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Striking Out with the Star Pitcher
Saved by the Crush's Brother
Playing Hooky with the Hottie
First Kiss with the Quarterback
Sleepover with the Enemy
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Senior Week Crush
Senior Week Fling
Senior Week Kiss
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Dating the Quarterback
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Long Hair Don’t Care
Maggie Dallen
Copyright © 2021 by Maggie Dallen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
Image © Shutterstock - Evgenyrychko
Cover Design © Designed with Grace
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
About the Author
One
Willow
* * *
Once upon a time, I made a deal with God. A bargain, really.
It was a long time ago. Almost ten years, to be precise. But as I stared down at my hands, trying to figure out if the new dark spots on my forearm were shadows from the flickering fire in front of me or fresh bruises, that conversation with the Big Guy upstairs might as well have been yesterday.
“We had a deal,” I muttered under my breath.
“What deal?” Callie leaned into me, nearly knocking us both off the log we were perched on. I gently pushed her until she was sitting upright and looked across the fire to our coworker Maverick.
He was scowling at Callie, but when he caught me looking, he gave me a little nod of acknowledgement.
Callie should never have come to this party. She was so not a party girl. She, like me, was a goody two shoes. Callie didn’t stay out past curfew, and she definitely didn’t drink. And if I hadn’t known that already, it was made very clear now as she swayed in her seat like we were out at sea and not firmly planted on solid ground.
By a lake, perhaps, but not on the lake.
“Let’s play Never Have I Ever,” some blonde girl said from the other side of the fire pit.
“Yesssss,” Callie hissed, her big eyes wider than ever with excitement.
I shared another look with Maverick. We had to get her out of here. Sooner rather than later. The only thing worse than a tipsy Callie would be a tipsy Callie playing drinking games with a bunch of hooligans.
That’s right, hooligans.
I knew a few of the people gathered around this fire and scattered around the lakefront, drinking and dancing. Some were my classmates from Lindale High and others were recent graduates like Callie’s crush Roman and his buddies, who were hanging out by a pickup truck on the far side of this gathering.
And then there were the tourists, like this blonde girl who’d just offered up the terrible idea of a drinking game. She’d told us her name, but I couldn’t remember it. The tourists who came to this little Montana ski town were instantly forgettable in my eyes. When you spent most of your life living in a seasonal tourist town, you got used to people coming and going. You knew better than to invest any time or energy into getting to know them or worrying about what they might think.
All in all, though, tourists and locals alike, this was a crowd that lived and breathed trouble, and I was so not here for it. Which was why I shook my head yet again when Callie turned to me and offered me a sip of her beer.
I didn’t do trouble, just like I didn’t do drinking. The only reason I was here was to keep an eye on Callie and make sure she didn’t get into trouble in some misguided attempt to catch Roman’s eye.
“No, thanks,” I said. I just barely resisted the urge to tell her she ought to stop.
I’d warned her several times already and all it got me was the stink eye from the cutest, sweetest, most outgoing girl in the Princess Troupe.
The Princess Troupe was where Callie and I worked. We dressed up as fairytale and storybook characters for kids’ parties. Maverick too, although he was a recent addition to the cast. As the only guy, he dressed up in all the prince roles. It was good part-time money for us high-schoolers, and the hours were flexible.
Honestly though, the best part for me was that it had given me friends.
Not that they necessarily thought of me as a friend.
I wasn’t entirely sure how they saw me. But whether Callie knew it or not, she was my friend. Probably my best friend. Maybe my only friend. Although our other coworkers could potentially be considered friends too. I mean, Flynn was even living at my house these days. His dad left, and his mom had been out of work. She had moved to the east coast with his brothers, but Flynn had stayed behind to finish the school year. He’d needed a place to crash, and I was almost always home alone. Did that make us friends?
And his girlfriend Isla was over all the time too. And Savannah and I worked well together, even if she ignored me when we were at school. Did that make us friends?
I scowled into the fire as I tried to sort out whether I could call them friends.
Was it okay to claim them as friends if they didn’t consider me a friend?
I pursed my lips. This was likely a question for my therapist. She knew the answers to these sorts of things.
But the thought of my therapist brought with it thoughts of the doctor’s office where I’d first met her, and just like that, my mood darkened again and all I could see were the possible bruises on
my arms.
Callie slung an arm over my shoulder, and she dropped her full weight against me along with it. Not that she weighed a lot. She was a petite little thing. But I wasn’t exactly a beefy muscleman myself, and we both started to tip over before I dug my feet into the rocky sand and pushed back to support her better.
This shouldn’t have been a big deal, but I’d been so tired these days that the mere act of pushing back against Callie made me feel like keeling over and taking a nap.
I bit my lip. Not good.
But as my brain rapidly spiraled toward paranoia, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm my rising heart rate.
I’d had the bloodwork done. That was all I could do. Even Dr. Kerney said so, and he was the expert, right?
I glanced upward. We had a deal.
I wasn’t sure why I kept reminding the Head Honcho up above. I wasn’t a super religious person. I never had been really. But when I was eight and bargaining for my life, this deal had seemed legit.
Now?
Well, right now I felt like a moron for talking to the starless sky, even if it was just in my head.
But all thoughts of childish bargains fell to the wayside when Callie tipped over backwards beside me. Her feet shot up in the air like some cartoon character, and if this really were a cartoon there would have been bubbles drifting up from behind the log to illustrate her high level of intoxication.
As it was, all that drifted up was her laughter. I found myself smiling down at her, because when Callie laughed, it was hard not to join her. Her laugh was just as infectious as her smile. She had that effect on people.
She smiled a lot and everyone smiled right back.
It made me wonder sometimes what kind of effect I had on people.
Not much was usually what I came up with. I didn’t really make much of an impact, for better or for worse. I just kept my head down and tried my best to live up to my end of the deal. I got good grades, I caused my parents as little worry as possible, I ate well and went to bed early. In short, I lived like an old lady.
And all for what?
I looked down at my arms as Maverick came over and scooped Callie into his arms.
“I’m taking her home,” he informed me.
I nodded. Probably for the best.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked.
I blinked in surprise. I knew Maverick cared about Callie. Anyone with eyes could see that he had a thing for her. But I hadn’t expected him to think about me. My estimation of Maverick went up several notches. “I’ll be fine.”
I saw Maverick glance over at Roman and the other guys from Callie’s new rock band. Not one of them seemed to notice that their lead singer was being carted off by an oversized football player. Definitely not Roman. Nope, the guy Callie had been crushing on for years was laughing at something a girl next to him was saying.
My lip curled up in a sneer at the sight of his happy-go-lucky smile.
Clueless idiot.
Did he really not see that the best girl in the world had a crush on him? Or…
I tensed as another thought occurred to me.
Did he know and he liked it? Was Callie just an ego boost to this guy?
When he shifted, I got a better view of his face, and anger surged up hot and fierce.
He was handsome, anyone could see that. The dark wavy hair, the lean, muscular body—he was hot and he knew it. But more than that, just like every time I’d ever seen him—at work when he was behind the catering table or at school before he’d graduated last spring—he was grinning and laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Well, la di da. Must be nice.
I watched Maverick walk away with a drunken Callie in his arms after promising that I’d let Callie’s other friends know where she’d gone.
I got up to do just that. After all, it wasn’t like I was having a blast sitting around watching these out of towners get wasted and tell each other inappropriate secrets just to see who could drink more.
But even as I told myself I was looking for Savannah and Isla, not to mention my new roommate Flynn, since he was my ride home, my gaze never wavered from Roman.
Roman. What kind of name was that? In a way, it fit him. With his dark hair and tanned skin, he could pass for Italian. And the word Roman made me think of Roman gods, which was also fitting. He could pass for royalty with that straight regal nose and a jaw that just wouldn’t quit. And then there was his demeanor. All heavy-lidded eyes and slow sexy grins.
He looked like an ancient ruler and was revered like a dang prince.
My eyes narrowed on this guy who’d so callously ignored Callie all night. Was this surge of anger disproportionate to his crime? Perhaps. But it felt good to have a solid target for all this frustration and impotent rage I’d been stewing in for the last few days.
Shaking a fist at the heavens wasn’t exactly empowering. But glaring at a guy who’d dismissed the only girl who’d ever made me feel accepted at Lindale High?
This I could do.
Roman’s head fell back with a laugh and the creases around his mouth deepened. Like a manlier version of dimples. And even from here I could see the crinkle around his eyes.
Laugh lines. The guy had freakin’ laugh lines.
So close to worry lines, but worlds apart.
My heart thudded louder and louder as I grew near. I should keep walking. I should walk past Roman and find Flynn, who was probably off making out with Isla somewhere. I should ask Flynn to take me home before I lost what little control I had over my emotions.
That was what I should do.
I glanced upward. All I could see was smoke and clouds. No stars. Certainly no sign from above that all my hard work and good behavior had worked. I could get a call any day now telling me that it was back. That my ten years of remission were over.
I shoved the thoughts away as I stormed ahead. I had no idea what I was doing. This wasn’t me. I didn’t lose my temper—ever. I never lost control.
How could I? I had rules to follow and vows to live up to.
But this guy?
All he had to do was smile and the world fell at his feet. All he had to do was hold a guitar and he had someone as awesome as Callie fawning all over him.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
I couldn’t even pretend to seek out Flynn anymore because my vision had honed in one annoyingly sexy, devastatingly confident smile.
He turned just as I drew near, and the way his eyes widened and his smile fell might have made me laugh at another time. But right now, it added fuel to my fire. “You.” I jabbed him in the chest as if there was any doubt which ‘you’ I was talking to.
“Me?” he said.
His friends were still laughing at something, but I could feel their attention turning to me.
“Who’s this?” one asked.
“Uh…” Roman said.
He didn’t even know my name. Of course he didn’t. Why would he? We’d only been one grade apart for the last decade or so. We’d only worked all the same parties every weekend for the past month. He’d only come to my house earlier tonight for our traditional after-work get together. Why on earth would he know my name?
I narrowed my eyes further. Self-absorbed jerk. What on earth did Callie see in him?
“I think she’s the local librarian,” one of the girls nearby offered.
This led to laughter. I didn’t care. I’d heard far worse. Did I dress like a librarian? Yes. I tended to get cold and cardigans were highly functional. I wasn’t really a jeans type. I didn’t find them comfortable and they rarely fit well. So dresses and skirts typically won out when I was dressing. Though thanks to the chill in the air from the lake tonight, I’d worn sensible slacks instead.
In short, I looked like a librarian.
The tight bun didn’t help. But how else was one supposed to keep her hair out of her face, hmm? No one had ever successfully answered that, so I stuck with the bun because it wa
s neat and tidy and...well, familiar.
Roman’s brows arched and he tipped his head down like he was studying me closer. “Willow, right?”
I made a huffing noise. Yes. Fine. All right, maybe he knew my name.
His lips quirked up at the corners, because, of course they did. Everything was just so easy and fun in Roman’s world. “Did you want to talk to me about something or…?” He looked around pointedly. A silent ‘why on earth are you standing here glaring at me?’
“You don’t even deserve her,” I snapped.
His eyes widened again. “Excuse me?”
I pinched my lips together and prayed for calm. I really should have thought this through. I wasn’t a confrontational person. Normally I didn’t even believe in conflict. There really weren’t many issues that couldn’t be solved with a logical conversation. Except...except…
I was so freakin’ tired.
I was tired of logic, and tired of reason, and tired of compromises and deals and trying so hard only to find myself here. Again.
Maybe sick, maybe not.
And it was the not knowing that made me feel like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. It was the not knowing that made me want to jump.
I wasn’t sure what all Roman could see in my eyes as he stared down at me, but whatever it was, it killed his amusement dead in its tracks. “You, uh...you okay, Willow?”
“No,” I snapped. Anger was good. Anger was a lifeline. I clung to it and held fast. “You don’t deserve her.” I said it again, slower and through clenched teeth.
“I…” He looked around again, like maybe someone would save him. But his friends were talking amongst themselves, watching us but not intervening. He was stuck with me. His brow furrowed. “I don’t deserve who?”
“Callie.” I stomped my foot and instantly regretted the move when I saw his lips twitch.
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