My teeth grit. I hate that he knows I have a crush on him.
Just me. I throw a glance over at Vampire Bill. At night, I put his cage in here. He doesn’t like to sleep alone. Neither do I. And you need to forget about Connor, I add.
Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Good night, Penelope. I’ll find you tomorrow.
Find me tomorrow…?
I stare at my name typed by his fingers…and it feels surreal that I’ve just had a decent conversation with him.
Still, I’m not sure I’ll talk to him when I see him.
With a sigh, I pick back up my pirate romance, and before long I’m asleep, dreaming of my own blond, curly-hair-chested pirate.
Penelope
Someone clears their throat. A male. “Hey…you down there. Do you have any clue how hard you are to find?”
I stiffen at the husky words, embarrassed that Ryker has, once again, caught me with my butt straight up in the air. This time I’m scrounging around on the bookstore floor, looking on every shelf for the right workbook for my next class.
“What do you want?” I say without looking at him, tautness in my tone, although it’s a bit muffled from speaking while bent over.
“You. I told you last night we’d talk, and here I am.”
Ignoring him, I move another collection of books aside on the shelf, but my search is fruitless. A long frustrated groan comes from me.
“We do have a class to get to, so today would be nice,” he says from above me, “although the view from here is stellar. Your curves are…lush.”
He’s staring at my ass.
“Keep your eyeballs in your head, quarterback.”
“Hard to do when you’re bent over.”
“Try harder,” I snap.
I huff out a breath and put my hand on the shelf above me to help me stand up. Ryker immediately extends a hand, his fingers clasping mine as he heaves me up. It’s the third time we’ve touched skin to skin—yes, I’m counting—and I inhale sharply as the sensation ripples up my arm and out like waves from a skipped rock on the water. Breathlessly, I stare down at the place where our hands are joined, and he’s looking as well, a look of speculation on his face. He swallows and drops my hand swiftly. His face changes, closing in and shuttering like a window, becoming contained.
No one really knows him, I think, except Maverick.
What I do know is he’s a god on the football field, an authoritative kickass quarterback that has kept Waylon in the top ten of the SEC for the past three years. Back last year, there was even talk of Ryker being a Heisman candidate, but that day is long gone…
I glance down at my hand, my skin burning where we touched, as if an electric current has had its way with me. I press my palm against my leggings.
I blame my reaction on the early morning, my lack of breakfast, and the search for the missing workbook.
“What do you want anyway? I’m busy.”
Amusement gleams in his eyes. “Damn. No one talks to me the way you do.”
I shrug. “I see you for what you are.”
A quick smirk. “A hot quarterback?”
“An asshole,” I correct him.
“Some girls love assholes.”
“I don’t.” My arms cross.
“I think you do. I’ve seen the romance books you bring to class, the ones with bare-chested men on the covers.”
“Those are called alpha-holes.”
“I see. This romance novel thing has its own lingo, then?”
“Doesn’t everything?”
He grins. “What kind of football lingo do you know?”
“That you’re a gunslinger.”
He straightens, interest lighting his gaze.
I shake my head. “You really think I wrote that article about you and didn’t research the hell out of it? And for your information, a gunslinger is a quarterback whose arm is good for long, deep passes.”
He rubs his jaw. “Are you saying you’re a secret Ryker Voss stalker?”
I stiffen. “The interest was strictly professional.”
“So you’ve never checked out my Instagram or Twitter?”
“Never.” Okay, I have. In fact, I did last night after texting with him. All I found were a few pics of him hanging out with Blaze and Maverick, some of his workout routine—damn, his body is tight—and a few random shots of a tiny white kitten.
But…
I won’t let the fact that he likes small animals soften me.
He grins. “You blush when you lie, Penelope.”
“I’m not blushing.” My face is hot as hell.
He considers me. “You find what you were looking for down there?”
I huff out a breath and put my hand on my hip. “No. It’s the stupid workbook for class. We’re supposed to have it by today and here I am…scrambling.” I run a hand through my hair.
“You’re stressed out.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
He fishes around in his black backpack and pulls out a paperback book, flashing the red and black cover at me, a small grin on his face. “This the one?”
“Don’t tell me you got the last one.”
He shrugs. “Someone delivered it to my dorm before classes started.”
“Jersey chaser?” I smirk.
“No, just a service the administration provides for athletes.” He pauses. “You seem to think I don’t do anything for myself. I assure you; I’m a grown man.”
Indeed, he is.
His broad shoulders shift, calling attention to his untucked, blue pinstriped button-up shirt that’s rolled up, displaying his muscled, tanned arms. My eyes get hung up on his golden arm hair. It’s nothing too crazy, mind you, but something about it on him is so fucking hot that my brain hurts.
I silently curse myself. This predilection for hair has never happened to me before. It’s just…him.
His shirt hugs his chest, shaping and contouring to his muscles. My eyes drift down, taking in the khaki pants that are tight against his crotch.
How big is his cock? Is it in proportion to the rest of his body? Because damn—
“Penelope.”
I blink. “Yeah?” My gaze finds his and is captured by his piercing blue-green eyes. They gleam as he studies me intently as if trying to suss out something important about me.
It’s like we’re both perplexed when we’re around each other.
Again, I blame my lack of sustenance.
I don’t know what his excuse is.
He continues. “I want to help you with something.”
“How magnanimous of you,” I say tartly. “But go on.”
“Will you just listen?” He rakes a hand through his long hair and tugs on the ends.
My equilibrium is thrown by the earnestness in his voice, and I chew on my lip. “Fine. Talk.” I lean against the shelf.
He nods. “First of all, the date bet at Sugar’s was not my idea, and I know that’s not an excuse and it’s on me for taking Archer’s bait…” His voice drifts off. “I wanted to apologize right away, but you ran off to the back, and Charisma refused to let me see you. Plus, I did have to get home and change my pants.”
“So I heard.” I cock my hip.
His eyes capture mine. “I’m really sorry I hurt you. It was shitty.”
“It was.”
He clears his throat. “I want to do you a solid and make up for the bet.”
“Like what?” I could bring up the homecoming party, but I waffle. In the wee hours of last night, it seemed like a good idea, but I’m not sure being around Ryker is a good idea. He makes me feel weird things.
A slow smile builds on his face as he takes me in, sweeping over my red pointy-toed flats, gray leggings, and roomy black sweatshirt that reads Forks, Seattle. He looks around the bookstore with a bit of bemusement on his face as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say.
“What?” I ask, feeling cross at him because he’s relaxed, and I’m still pissy because I don’t have my workbook.
His eyes come back to me. “Who is it that you want? Answer me that and you’ll know what I’m here to help you with.”
My eyes flare. “You don’t mean Connor, do you?”
He nods.
I pause. “You’re going to get Connor Dimpleshitz as my—I’m just throwing out a guess here—boyfriend?”
A shrug. “Let’s just say ‘get you a date’ for now. It’s up to you to make the boyfriend thing happen, although I don’t doubt you can manage it. You’re a pretty girl, and surely, you have game.” His voice is doubtful as he stares at my sweatshirt.
“I have game!”
“Uh-huh.” His tone is dry.
I shake my head. “But…why?”
“Because you like him, and I want to do something nice. In fact…I bet you I can get him to ask you on a date.”
“Really?” I say skeptically. “Another bet? That’s your answer?”
He inclines his head. “You know you can’t resist a bet from me.”
My eyes narrow. “Who told you that?”
His lips curl up in a grin. “You love to prove me wrong. It’s obvious every time you see me.”
“God, I do love knocking you down a peg.”
He laughs, and I suck in a quick breath at the way it lights up his face. Some of the earlier tension related to the bet fiasco eases, but not all of it. He has apologized—very well, I might add—but I’m still wary. On the other hand, I remind myself I still need a date to homecoming in four weeks, and if he can get me Connor…