Page 3 of Hard Hitter

It was on the tip of my tongue to offer her my bed for the rest of the night. Talk about bad decisions. Her eyes sharpened like she’d read my mind, or maybe my face, but even I wasn’t that stupid.

I rubbed the back of my neck, markedly calmer knowing she didn’twantthe guy in her room. “Eva’s not here?”

She sagged in relief. “No. Mysterious booty call. Can you please use your giant muscles to get rid of this guy?”

My jaw clenched, really unhappy with my role, but I moved toward the bed anyway.

What was I supposed to do with him? We couldn’t leave him outside to freeze his balls off, and I definitely wasn’t bringing him into our apartment with Mac’s mystery girl and RJ there.

With some effort, I hauled the guy up by his armpits, trying my best to ignore the full frontal on display. He grumbled something about trolls, and his breath knocked me back a step. Once I blinked away the acrid tears, I got a good look at his face.

Thank fuck, I recognized him. Miller something. Second string kicker. Not really a surprise he was a football player considering Eva’s social circle. He was a freshman, so he’d be living in the athlete dorm. I could drop him off in the lobby with a spare blanket.

Chloe held the doors for me as I muscled him out of her apartment and across the parking lot to my car. He didn’t stir as I heaved him into my passenger seat, and I made a mental note to scrub down the leather tomorrow.

As soon as the door closed, he slumped against it, snoring lightly. Chloe followed me around to the driver’s side, pulling me to a stop before I could climb inside. She searched my face, and my stupid heart took off at her close proximity.

“What are you going to do with him?”

I raised a brow. “Worried abouthimnow?”

“D would never forgive me if you murdered someone on my behalf.”

“Bold of you to assume they’d find the body.”

She scowled at me, and I relented.

“He’s a freshman football player. I’m going to return him to the athlete dorm where he can sleep off his bad decisions in public.”

The breeze picked up, and she shivered. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No. Go back inside, put on something warm, change your sheets, and get some sleep.”

Chloe wrapped her arms around herself, shifting her weight from foot to foot, finally gracing me with the wicked smile I expected. “Always a pleasure watching you manhandle another guy.”

“Chloe,” I growled, now completely sure she remembered the night with the hockey asshole.

She patted my chest. “If you ever need help in the bedroom department, give me a call.”

My dick went from half-hard to rock solid in the span of a breath. Thank god the dark parking lot didn’t reveal many details.

“Not interested,” I lied.

“You made that very clear when you turned me down the first time. In this case, I meant if you ever need help removing a lady from your bed, I’m your girl.”

I grunted, forcing myself to climb into my car instead of leaving her unwanted visitor here and taking his place. “Get inside before you freeze.”

She gave me a finger wave and hurried back to her apartment. Alone. I’d give my left nut to be the one keeping her warm, but a relationship between me and Chloe would never work. She wanted a temporary fun time, and I wouldn’t disrespect D’s sister by treating her like a disposable party favor.

I wouldn’t treat any woman that way, but especially not Chloe. D was my first and closest friend here at TU, and without him, I’d be alone in the athletic dorms counting the days until graduation. D was closer to me than my family, and he’d trusted me with his sister.

Chloe was off limits, and I’d kick the ass of anyone who touched her.

2

How did this keep happening to me? I was supposed to be in a nice, normal math class, but as I scanned the lecture hall, the sheer amount of Teagan University athletic gear made me break out in a sweat. Jocks everywhere.

I assumed my mistake was taking the lowest level of math I could—don’t judge, my last school didn’t require extra math classes for a communications major—but I immediately felt guilty for the assumption. Athletes weren’t stupid. My brother with his psychology degree was a shining example of that, and I handily proved non-athletes weren’t exactly geniuses.

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