“What’s the other half?”
“Sheer, stubborn determination to win.” She eyed him, a smile playing on her lips. “I think you’ve got that down, too.”
He laughed. “You think?”
“Oh yeah.” She opened the gate and walked into the stands. He couldn’t believe it wasn’t locked, but maybe they didn’t worry about that in North Carolina. “You’ve definitely got the stubborn part down to an art form. I mean, look at the way you took over and demanded to be my fake boyfriend? If that isn’t sheer determination, then I don’t know what is.”
“Nah. I just wanted to get in your pants.”
“Well, you succeeded.” She grinned up at him.
“That’s something I’ve always been pretty confident in,” he joked, tightening his fingers on hers. “My ability to woo a woman.”
“Yeah, I can see why.”
“Though, I never went to the extremes with anyone else that I went to with you.” He roamed his gaze over her. She wore a grey wool jacket, a pair of jeans, and a white knit hat. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and she looked so damn pretty it hurt.
She chuckled. He expected her to say something sentimental or sweet, but she turned away, her cheeks going even redder. “You didn’t tell me who you were in high school yet.”
He blinked at the change of subject. “Uh…why don’t you guess?”
“Guess?” She strolled toward the area where the team sits when they’re not on the field. “I have a ninety-four percent chance of getting it right, based on what I know about you.”
He raised a brow. “Sounds as if you like those odds.”
“I do.”
“Enough to bet on it?”
“Hmmm…” She paused, as if she was worried she might be wrong. “What are we talking here? Money? Sexual favors?”
He scanned the surrounding area. There were no cameras, and they were definitely the only ones here. “If you’re wrong, you have to do any sexual favor I ask for.”
She laughed. “That’s all?”
“Yep.” He gestured toward the field. “Right here. Right now.”
She sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out. He could almost make out her breath in the cold air. “Seriously?”
“What’s the matter?” He spun her until her back rested against the chain link fence, then grabbed both her hands. He lifted them so they pressed against the metal on either side of her head. “Are you too scared your calculations are off?”
“God, no.” She bit down on her lip, her gaze on his mouth. “Fine, but I pick the favor.”
He groaned. “Deal. Go ahead and guess already.” He nibbled on the side of her neck. “Take all the facts you know about me and tell me what I was like in high school.”
When he lowered his head and nipped the spot where her shoulder and neck met, she groaned and arched her back. “You’re very take charge, and you came from a military family, so you probably moved around a lot. It wouldn’t have given you a good chance to develop the team camaraderie that most sports need to flow nicely, and you were always the new kid, so I’m guessing you weren’t in any sports. You don’t strike me as the musical type, so I’m thinking…”
When she didn’t finish, he cocked a brow. “Yeah?”
“You were the guy who kept to the edge of the crowd, didn’t have any activities he excelled at, even though you were smart. I’d say you were into art and a loner. Maybe even a skater boy.”
He shook his head. “Wrong.”
“Not possible.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “You’re lying.”
He laughed. “I’m not lying. Your odds were off, and you lost.”
“Impossible,” she said, her lips pressed tight. “What were you, then?”
“Hmm.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. But he didn’t kiss her. He just hovered there, enjoying the moment. Her hands curled into fists, but she didn’t fight his hold. “Tell me,” she demanded.
“I was the quarterback—the guy chasing down the cheerleaders. And they chased me, too.”
“No way. That’s not possible.”
He laughed. “I assure you it’s true.”
“If you were always moving around, how did you gain that position without knowing the coaches? The rest of the team?”
“I was just that good.”
She turned her head, a challenging light in her eyes. “Prove it.”
“And how do you propose I do that?” He looked at the area she’d been looking at. There was an errant football under the corner of the bleachers. “Ah. I see now.”
“If you can throw a ball and impress me? Then you win.”
“I already won.” He lowered his head towards her. “Be warned: I will be collecting my prize as soon as I throw that ball.”
She smirked up at him. “Consider me scared.”
He laughed at how she’d turned his words from last night back on him. He pushed off the fence, releasing her in the process, and then made his way over to the football. It had been years since he threw one with any seriousness besides f**king around in the desert, but he should still be able to prove he had skills.
Or that he’d had skills, anyway.
“We’ll go mid-field, and then I’ll throw it as hard as I can. Deal?”
“Deal.” She started running toward the field. “Let’s go, slow-poke!”
He shook his head at her silliness, and then easily caught up to her. Hell, he could have blown past her, but what fun would that have been? By the time they made it to midfield, she was out of breath and he was laughing.
“All right.” She bent over and rested her hand on her knees. “Impress me, quarterback boy.”
He grinned. “Done.”
“Wait,” she called out, holding a hand up. “You need a kiss for good luck.”
She straightened and then threw herself against him, kissing him full on the mouth, her arms snaking around his neck. He fumbled the ball as he wrapped his arms around her, hauling her close. Fuck football. He’d rather be playing with her.
But she broke away and danced out of his reach. “Go for it.”
He took a deep breath, picked up the ball, and gave himself a second to re-center his bearings. Once he had it all figured out, he positioned himself, eyed the wind, and then cranked back before letting loose. The ball arced across the field with a perfect spiral, then hit the ground and bounced a bit before landing a little bit in front of the ten yard line.