Page 45 of The Goal

“Oooh, a guarantee? Not even a simple ol’ promise? You’ve got a lot of confidence in your mama, John.”

“Of course I do. Because my mama’s a rock star.”

“I really raised a charmer, huh?”

“Yup.” I grin as I balance the phone on my shoulder and slide out of the pickup.

“Okay, give me a quick rundown of what you’ve been up to,” she orders.

I make my way to the massive front steps of Briar’s hockey facility. “Not much,” I confess. “Hockey, school, friends—the usual.”

“Still no girlfriend?” There’s a teasing note in her voice.

“Nope.” I hesitate. “I did meet someone, though.”

“Oooh! Tell me everything!”

Laughing, I reach into my pocket for my student ID to unlock the front doors. Security is tight here. “Nothing to tell yet. But when I’ve got more details, you’ll be the first to know. Anyway, I gotta go. Walking into the rink.”

“All right, call me when you’ve got more time to chat. Love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

I hang up and swipe my ID in the keypad, then barrel into the sleek,air-conditioned lobby where framed jerseys hang on the walls and colorful championship pennants stream down from the ceiling.

I wish I’d had more time to talk to Mom, but when it comes to Briar hockey, there’s no such thing as slacking. Coach Jensen runs a top-notch program that prides itself on excellence and hard work. Just because we’re sucking balls these days doesn’t mean those fundamentals have been lost.

In a brisk stride, I head for the locker rooms. I still have my phone in hand, and after a moment of hesitation, I give in to the urge to text Sabrina.

Me: Morning, darlin. Give any thought to what we talked about? I’ve got a first date offer here with your name written all over it…

Then I put my phone away and go to practice.

SABRINA

I’m already lateto meet the girls, but when I fly outside after my evening tutorial, I know instantly that I’m about to be even later.

Beau Maxwell and a few of his buddies are congregating at the bottom of the steps, surrounded by half a dozen football groupies. From where I’m standing, it’s obvious that the boys are enjoying the attention. Although Briar is primarily a hockey college, the football players get plenty of limelight around here too.

“S!”

Beau breaks away from the group when he spots me on the steps. His blue eyes light up, which brings ugly scowls to the faces of the girls around him. They clearly don’t appreciate my poaching their quarterback/potential hookup for the night, but I don’t particularly care. I haven’t spoken to Beau in weeks, and I can’t deny that I’m happy to see him.

I descend the stairs while he ascends them and we meet halfway for a hug. Strong, muscular arms wrap around me and swing me right off my feet. I laugh, ignoring the groupies who are murdering me with their eyes.

“Hey,” I say when he sets me back on my feet. “How’ve you been?”

“Not great, actually. Not great at all. My bed is cold and lonely without you in it.”

I can tell he’s joking because his pout is exaggerated. And even that silly expression doesn’t make him any less handsome. With his dark hair and chiseled features, Beau’s sexy as hell. We met at a party last spring where, within seconds, he sucked me in with his dimpled grin and easy-going charm. I think we fell into bed with each other about ten minutes after that, and he’s one of the rare guys I allowed myself to see more than once.

Except now we’re standing face to face, and he’s doing nothing for me. No tingles. No heat. NoI want to hit that again. As gorgeous as Beau is, he’s not the one I want to be naked with these days.

That honor falls to John Tucker. A.k.a. the sweetest, hottest, most patient guy on the planet. A.k.a. the guy who asked me out via text this morning and who I still haven’t texted back.

“Seriously, baby, what did I do to deserve such punishment?” He clutches his heart with mock pain, and the scowly, fumy groupies get scowlier and fumier.

“Uh-huh. I’m sure your bed’s been miserably empty since I left it. I bet you’re living the sad, lonely life of a monk.”

---