Page 35 of Calling the Shots

She’s one hundred percent right. It’s been fun, but we have no business being in a real relationship together. A go-on-dates, meet-the-parents kinda thing. We wouldn’t work.

Gracelyn’s too young, and I’m not the right guy for her. It’d be messy and complicated. We’re all wrong for each other.

We had a fun fling, but we absolutely need to leave it at that.

Much as I hate seeing the harsh words there on the screen.

And hate the feeling I have right now even more, loneliness creeping in and filling the empty house with deafening silence.

I want to hear her laugh, see her bright smile light up the room, feel her soft breath on my skin as she lays peacefully beside me.

It’ll never work, though. Both of us know it. She was just the first to admit it.

I delete the text I typed out on my phone before I pulled out of her lot:Want to go out Saturday night?, the letters disappearing one by one.

Tossing my phone onto the counter, I head to bed, working hard to ignore the bitter disappointment weighing heavy on my chest. After all, Gracelyn and I had a casual hookup, nothing to carry on about.

But laying alone in my bed in the dark, all I can think about is her.

Her big, blue eyes, pupils blown wide as she gazes up at me through a fringe of dark lashes. Golden curls spilling over her shoulders, the creamy skin of her chest turning pink as she bounces up and down on my cock. The sweet sound of her voice as she cries out my name, panting. Her thighs squeezing me tight, nails clawing at my skin as she unravels.

God, she’s beautiful.

It’s going to be tough seeing her car next door, knowing she’sright thereand I can’t talk to her, see her, touch her. I mean, technically I could do all those things, but I shouldn’t.

Not after she sent me the oldIt’s been funtext.

No matter how good her body felt in my hands, how right everything between us is when we’re alone together. Just the two of us, without any preconceived notions or small-town bullshit.

Leave her alone, Mack.

Not bothering to turn on the light, I rip my clothes off and flop into bed. I’m more than happy to leave the last hour of today behind me.

The brush off always sucks, but this one hurts a little bit more than usual.

* * *

As the days roll by, I expect to forget about Gracelyn. Put what happened between us in the rearview and move on with my life.

Turns out, that’s easier said than done.

I spend more time thinking about her than I’d like. Doesn’t help that I live next door to her place of employment. I catch myself glancing out the window more than is strictly necessary, hoping for a quick glimpse of the sassy, curvy blonde.

Guess I’m a masochist or something.

But surprisingly, I hardly ever see her. She must sneak in while I’m working and by the time I’m home from football practice in the evenings, her car’s already gone.

Probably for the best.

Much as I’d love to pursue her, she made it pretty damn clear she’s not interested in anything more from me. I need to let the spark between us fizzle like a Fourth of July firecracker dunked in a bucket of cold water. Keep us both safe from combustion.

So I go about my normal life, waiting for the memory of Gracelyn—the way she lit me up inside—to fade.

After a long and grueling practice, I pull into the lot of the grocery to grab something for dinner. Thunder rumbles off in the distance. Thank goodness the weather held out and we made it through drills this afternoon. We have a big game on Friday night and the team needs every repetition we can get.

Head down, I hurry into the brightly lit store on a mission. Soft rock plays over the speakers as I make my way over to the deli in search of a rotisserie chicken. I’m in luck—there’s one left, sitting all by it’s lonesome in the metal warming tray.

Homed in on the target, my hand darts out to grab the food. Stomach growling and mouth watering, the delicious scent of salty, spicy chicken floats through the air. I’m downright starving and cannot wait to dig into that bird. Hell, I may even feast in the parking lot.

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