Page 37 of Pucking Amazing

But I don’t want them.

I want Sydney. Or Tyler. And Tyler.

Fuck.

The day drags on without a single text from Tyler. I’m getting restless, pacing around the pool, when a burst of laughter draws my attention.

It’s Sydney, looking like a goddamn snack in her modest one-piece and cover-up. I grin, soaking up the sight. I bet she thinks the suit is a professional choice but the joke’s on her—it’s sexier than all the barely there bikinis around put together, the way it teases and conceals her considerable attributes.

I’m captivated.

Screw it, I’m making my move. If Tyler isn’t ready to pick things up where we left off, that’s his business. And my business…well, tonight it’ll be Sydney. Throwing on my most panty-dropping grin, I saunter over to where she’s chatting with some of the staff.

“Can you believe that turnover in the third period?” Coach Alex is saying animatedly as I join the group. “Absolutely clutch.”

“Hell yeah! We’re on a roll,” I chime in, reveling in the post-win high.

Sydney smiles at me, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. To what do we owe the honor, Mr. Bigshot?”

“What can I say, I couldn’t resist the allure of hearing everyone say nice things about me,” I quip back, holding her playful gaze.

Coach Emma chuckles. “C’mon DJ. That assist in overtime was pure luck and you know it.”

“Bullshit, it was all me. They don’t call these magic hands for nothing!” I joke, wiggling my fingers.

The group dissolves into knowing laughter—my salacious reputation isn’t really a secret on the team. Or anywhere, for that matter.

As the conversation turns to post-game analysis, I sidle closer to Sydney. Leaning in, I murmur, “So, I was thinking... How about you and I explore the Tampa nightlife tonight?”

Sydney arches an eyebrow, looking adorably conflicted for a moment.

“I don’t know, Johnston. You keep getting me into trouble.”

Her words say no but her eyes are issuing a challenge. And damn if I don’t love a challenge.

“Hey, I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor,” I vow, throwing up three fingers in salute.

She laughs, shaking her head. “Fine, you’ve got yourself a date. But no funny business, you hear?”

I grin as images of just what kind of funny business we could get up to cross my mind. It’s a good thing I’m not actually a scout. “Mmm.”

After some killer fish tacos and a bit of restaurant hopping in search of the perfect key lime pie, Sydney and I find ourselves in the back of a tiny local joint I heard about from a friend who went to school down here.

The twangy notes of an old man strumming a beat-up guitar on a cramped platform blend with the clinks of glasses and chatter filling the dive bar. I lean in close to Sydney so she can hear me over the noise.

“Is it just me or do these lyrics make absolutely no sense?” I ask with a smirk.

Sydney giggles. “It’s like he picked random words out of a country music dictionary and strung them together.” She puts on an exaggerated Southern drawl. “My truck got towed, my dog done died, drinkin’ whiskey by the riverside.”

I laugh and throw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against me in the booth. “Don’t quit your day job to become a country star now.”

She fits perfectly tucked into my side, her curves pressing deliciously against me. I know I promised, I know I should behave myself, but damn if I don’t want to slide my hand down and grab that fine ass.

Sydney looks up at me through her dark lashes. “You don’t think I could make it in Nashville?”

She juts out her bottom lip in an adorable pout. I want to bite it.

“Oh, I think you’d be a star no matter what you did, beautiful.” I reach out and gently run my thumb over her lip. “But I like having you all to myself.”

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