Page 1 of Call the Shots
CHAPTER 1
JUNE
GOLF CART CATASTROPHE
I beganmy shift by disappointing the front desk manager of student admissions…for the ten thousandth time.
“Morning, Sherri!” I called.
“You’re fifteen minutes late.”
“I know, I’m sorry?—”
“Again.Fifteen minutes late,again.”
“I’ll do somebody’s paperwork!”
Her sigh was the loudest sound in the lobby.
The cartoon Roman with a scroll—Marrs University wasn’t built in a day!—hanging on the wall welcomed in new students, and me, a housing assistant director who was up so early I felt hungover. I wasn’t usually the one to give tours to athletes, or in the admissions office at all, but I’d been assured this was an emergency.
And I needed all of the good graces offered.
I grabbed the blue folder off the counter markedHOCKEY TRANSFERand swiped open to?—
Oh no.
I stared in disbelief at the black-and-white print of Bear Moreau, a disinterested look in his dark eyes, hockey stick resting over his shoulder. It was the kind of dominant pose thatshowed how comfortable he was with his body and the muscles hinted at in the outline of his jersey. His dark hair parted in the middle, swept-back?—
What am I doing?
Was I seriously ogling my cheating ex’s stepbrother?
I snapped the folder shut. “I can’t give the tour.”
“What?” Sherri demanded. “June, I’ve put up with your crap for months?—”
Ugh. She was right, everybody had. When we started university, my ex and I picked the same organizations because we wanted to run the campus together. Fantastic for carpooling yet devastating for trying to avoid somebody post-breakup. Now, when I needed to do anything, I had to make sureXavierwouldn’t be there.
My stomach churned at the thought.
“Bear Moreau is the one guy I can’t give a tour to,” I pleaded. “I’d rather drag a corpse around campus and let the wild squirrels pick off of it.”
“June—”
“I’ll scour the sidewalks with a toothbrush!”
“June—”
“I’ll rip out my fingernails! Anyone but Bear?—”
“June!” Her eyes were directedbehindme.
I glanced over my shoulder seeing who I should’ve checked for all along.
Bear pushed himself from one of the stiff lounge chairs. So much taller than I realized, he easily towered over me, his cut jaw twitching with irritation. My heart thumped as he stared me down, as unamused as he looked in that picture.
“B—Bear—” I stammered.
