Full Count (Cessna U Wildcats Book 3)

by Kimberly Readnour

  “Yes,” I lie, keeping a straight face. What I want is to play baseball. Turning down my chance at making it pro during last spring’s draft fucking killed me. But it isn’t about what I want. I made a promise to my parents that I intend to keep. Besides, I have no other choice. If I can’t find a job right away, I need grad school as a backup.

  The hard stare from my adviser tells me he isn’t buying my bullshit. “Think it over and come back next week with some ideas. The programs can get quite competitive. With another organization that’s relevant to your field on top of your extra-curricular activities, you shouldn’t have any problems being accepted to a program.”

  “Fine, I’ll come up with something.” I stand, not at all pleased with how this meeting went. Joining another organization will accomplish nothing but snatch more time from an already tight schedule. The whole idea sucks since I’m not sold on the idea of graduate school.

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you next week.”

  I nod and let my feet lead me to the hallway. Pulling out my phone, I check the time—one more hour to go before meeting Lexie. I run a hand through my hair. Christ. I truly am the shittiest person. Out of all of my friends who I’d trust with my secrets, Lexie would be the one. She wouldn’t tell a soul. But the moment the truth spilled, her outlook toward me would be forever changed. I keep my personal life private for many reasons. I won’t risk losing the most important thing in my life. No matter the consequences or sacrifices I have to make.

  I just didn’t realize living this lie would be so difficult.

  Chapter Three

  Lexie

  Current Day

  Garret: Fun Fact. Irish men grow funnier as they age. Muscles aren’t mandatory. ;)

  Please pick up the phone. I silently beg for my best friend, Cara, to answer. Today’s the day I’m testing Garret’s friendship, and I could use a dose of encouragement. I place my caffé mocha back in the cup holder and flip the car visor down for one last makeup check. I’m already running late thanks to Mom and my rug-rat brothers. A few more minutes won’t hurt, but Cara isn’t picking up. I let out a resonated sigh when the call goes to voicemail.

  “You’re on your own, Jenkins,” I say to the mirror. Either Garret will see me as more than a friend, or he’ll put me in my place. Either way, the time to get my flirt on has arrived.

  My stomach does a weird flip, which frustrates me. These nerves are unwarranted. It’s not as if I’m going in totally blind. There have been times when his playful flirting seems real. The slight looks he shoots my way or when his eyes soften the longer we talk makes me think he likes me for more than a friend. But who knows? I may be putting more meaning behind what I’m seeing. Not once, since the first day we met freshman year, has he ever acted upon those gestures.

  Shit. He’s totally going to laugh at me.

  My phone rings, jolting me out of my thoughts. Thinking it’s Cara calling me back, I answer without looking at the screen.

  “There you are. I—”

  “Are you busy this weekend?” my dad’s voice interrupts.

  I glance down at the phone as if confirming the name would change anything. Why didn’t I double-check the caller ID before answering? I close my eyes and rest my head back against the headrest.

  “No, why?”

  “I can’t pick the boys up. Jillian is taking her new puppy to the vet.”

  And that’s a problem, because? “So, why are you telling me? Shouldn’t this be something you discuss with Mom?”

  “Your mother will just harp on me about shit I can’t control. She’s still…bitter.”

  No shit, she’s bitter. “Fine, I’ll tell her, but the boys will be disappointed.” That’s a lie. They hate going to Dad’s house. And since Jillian moved in, their reluctance has only gotten worse. But it still cuts to have a father who chooses his flavor of the month over you.

  “Then, they need to behave better when they’re here.”

  “Is that all you need?” Tears prick my eyes for no reason other than the pity I feel for my brothers. They’ll never know what it’s like to have a caring father. Then again, neither do I, but I don’t want them to go through what I did. Selfishness is such a horrible trait. One I hope isn’t inherited.

  “Don’t be like that. You don’t want to turn into your mother. Oh, and speaking of which, Jillian is asking again for you to come down to her gym. She said any afternoon is good. Please take her up on this.”

  “Tell Jillian thanks for the offer, but I’m already fumbling for time. You know, between working on my senior design and helping Mom raise two boys.”

  “Your health is important, too. Don’t neglect it. There’s a lot of hidden calories in those mochas you insist on drinking.”

  Did he not understand my jab or choose to ignore it? Either way, I’m over this conversation. “I know exactly how many calories the drinks have. I don’t eat unhealthily, but thanks for caring. I’ll let Mom know about this weekend.”

  “I knew I could count on you.”

  Click.

  I stare at my phone in disbelief. That man is incorrigible. I snatch my book bag off the passenger seat and grab my calorie-packed drink before exiting the car. Garret is probably wondering where the hell I am by now. I had texted that I’m running late, but I didn’t expect to be derailed by Dad.

  My feet slap against the concrete in stormy cadence. I’m so mad. I’m sure I sound like a bull in a china shop. But how dare he harp about my weight. So what if I’m not Hollywood-style thin? I have curves. Get over it. I happen to like my tits and ass.

  I don’t slow my pace until I spot Garret sitting on a bench by a scantily clad girl. She laughs at whatever he said and then leans toward him, shifting those long legs to where their knees practically touch. I come to a halt, clenching the coffee cup tighter. His expression remains passive, so I can’t tell if he’s enjoying her display of flirting or not. Dad’s criticizing words slam back into my mind. And I hate that. I hate that a few negative comments are all it takes to start second-guessing myself. An insecure girl isn’t who I am. I’m happy with my appearance. Sure, this girl’s tall frame makes my size ten hips seem full in comparison, especially given the fact I’m vertically challenged, but I’ve never cared about my body frame. Not really. I’m what most people deem normal. The average size is sixteen to eighteen for fuck’s sake.

  But there’s no denying the girl is gorgeous. Just like Dad’s girlfriend, Jillian. Garret’s only talking to this girl. He’ll never be rude to anyone. But he has never dated or even flirted with anyone for a comparison. The irrational side makes me wonder if this type of girl—tall and thin—is who he’s attracted to. Is this why he friend-zoned me all those years ago? Because this is the kind of girl he wants? Honestly, he could have his pick of women. Most of the baseball team could. So why would he want me when he could have all the Jillians of the world?

  He’s never once made me feel inadequate, though. Plus, there’s still the niggling feeling he has a girlfriend. I’ve never come right out and asked, but he has gone home every weekend since freshman year. If he doesn’t have a girlfriend, maybe my height puts me at a disadvantage. The man towers over me. Even so, I never thought about the difference being a hindrance. I don’t have any qualms about my head hitting his chest region. I glance at the mocha in my hand and frown. Maybe I don’t need this. I go to toss it in the trash but stop. Forget that. I’m not wasting a perfectly good drink. I refuse to succumb to my dad’s altered reality.

  Instead, I march over to where Garret and Miss Beauty Queen sit, determined to be who I am. I have nothing against the other girl, but she’s not going to encroach on my territory. Because if he is single, I’m going to make him see me for more than his best friend.

  “Sorry I’m late. The damn rug-rats kept me busy.”

  “Hey.” He stands, and his entire face lights up at my greeting. The girl on the ground? Yeah, that would be me. The cause—fainting from too much swooning. Damn, he’s bea
utiful. “How’s my girl?”

  I let his arms wrap around me and hug him back, lingering a tad too long before I pull away, but he keeps his arm around my shoulder. Tucked against him, I can’t help but take a whiff. He smells good, freshly showered and clean with a hint of sandalwood and musk. It’s a powerful combination.

  The girl eyes me for a beat and then directs her attention back to Garret. I make a point not to move as if I’m posturing to make her believe Garret’s mine. But face it, I kind of am. “I guess I’ll see you around?” She hesitates as if waiting for Garret’s reply.

  “Um, sure.” Garret squeezes my shoulder. “We better get at it. Lots to do, right, babe?”

  Babe?

  My heart skips a beat, but then reality settles in. Garret must be wanting to ditch the girl. But even that thought makes me way happier then it should.

  “We sure do, honey.”

  The corners of his mouth stretch to the widest grin, highlighting that dimple I love so much.

  “Oh, okay. Bye.” The girl steps around us. She gives us one last glance before sauntering away.

  I press my lips together, almost feeling sorry for her. When she’s out of hearing range, I glance up at Garret. “Were you trying to ditch her?”

  “You have no clue.”

  “Well, honey, I’m here to save you. No other girls on my watch.” Jeez, did I really say that?

  A smirk slides into place. “Mmm, look at you being all possessive. I like this side.”

  I slide my arms around his waist and glance up at him. “I know a good thing when I have it.”

  His eyes darken as heat laces the edges of his stare. My heart ticks up a beat. This look right here—the one that screams desire and longing—is what makes me think he wants more. But then, he drags his gaze away and nudges his head in the direction toward Captain’s Cup.

  “Let’s kick some ass on this project.”

  I release my hold and nod. “Let’s go.”

  We head toward the café, and I don’t miss the fact that his arm is still draped around my shoulders. And I don’t mind the placement. Not at all.

  Chapter Four

  Garret

  Current Day

  Lexie: Fun Fact #2. You’re lucky. I happen to like funny guys.

  “You want another mocha?” I ask as we enter Captain’s Cup. This café is one of Lexie’s favorite spots on campus, and since we don’t have a lot to go over tonight, I thought it would be a nice place to discuss our project.

  Lexie hesitates and tosses her old cup in the garbage. “That would be a lot of calories.”

  “Maybe you just need a fun way to burn off those extra calories.”

  “You volunteering for the job?”

  I fucking wish. Lexie’s answer throws me for a minute. I tease her all the time, but she usually never comes back with anything equally suggestive. I choose my next words carefully, pawning it off as if she’s joking. “And ruin this good thing we have going?”

  “That would be tragic.”

  “Hell yeah, it would. Who would I get to do the leg work for our design?”

  “The truth comes out. You’ve only kept me around for the good of the project.”

  “I can’t erect this by myself.” I laugh when she shakes her head. “Seriously, I’ll grab you another mocha. I know they’re your favorite.”

  Her mouth opens to protest, but I stop her. “I don’t want to hear a word about calories, silly woman. Believe me when I say you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Fine, but a small.”

  “You got it. Go find us a seat, and I’ll be right there.”

  My gaze lingers on her ass as she walks away.

  “The line’s moved,” a guy says behind me.

  I snap my attention to the counter and step forward. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. It’s a fine ass. Lots to hang on to.”

  I turn and glare at this obnoxious asshole. “Did you seriously insinuate my girl’s ass is good for fucking?”

  “Whoa, sorry, I didn’t realize you were together.”

  We’re not, but damn if I’m going to let some asshole trash-talk Lexie like that. I narrow my eyes. “Just be more respectful.”

  He throws his hands up in defense. “I will. Sorry.”

  I turn around, but my insides are still fuming. And I don’t know why the prick’s remark got to me. It’s not like I have the right to check Lexie out either. If anything, it’s more disrespectful for me to be ogling her. But I won’t let anyone demean her like that.

  A few minutes later, I join Lexie at a table in the back. She has the schematics we’ve been pondering over for all of last year laid in front of her.

  “I can’t believe it’s almost time to build our creation. We have so many person-hours on this project already. We better at least get an honorable mention for the D. I. C. K. award.”

  “Yes, we definitely earned a dick mention.” That statement earns me a questionable glance from a freshman. I laugh. The Dennison, Irvin, Craig, & King Scholarship, a.k.a. the DICK award, goes to the lucky senior the sponsors deem worthy enough. The award is very political and controversial. But it’s hard to complain when the prize is worth ten grand.

  Each year, a local firm sponsors the prize. They give their proposal and expectations to team members during our junior year. Each team member draws schematics and designs a three-dimensional model. Our year happens to be sponsored by Shuster and Foyer. Here is where the contest gets controversial. Even though it’s a team project, only one winner can be determined.

  Along with the monetary winnings, the winner is guaranteed a grad school enrollment at Cessna U. If the company loves the proposal enough, they interview the team members and exercise the option of hiring the one they deem worthy. It’s a prestigious award. One that would benefit me greatly. It just sucks I’m in direct competition with Lexie.

  “Most definitely.” She snorts, but her humor dies the moment she glances up from the drawing and takes in the large-sized caffé mocha. “Thanks for feeding my addiction. I’ll never get to bed tonight.”

  “No problem. But I can think of better addictions, though.”

  Lexie rolls her eyes. I better lay off the flirting. She’s liable to smack me upside the head.

  “I’m blaming you when Dad yells at me for drinking too many of these,” Lexie says, tipping the cup toward me. “I’ve already been lectured once today.”

  I instantly see red. No wonder Lexie was hesitant when I asked earlier. Her dad makes digs at her all the time concerning her weight, which is ludicrous. What kind of father does that? Lexie is drop-dead gorgeous. She has the blondest hair, almost white in color, with the most striking honey-stained eyes. They’re warm and mesmerizing. She draws me in with one smoldering look. And her curves—damn, those curves have been starring in my dreams for years. If the situation were any different, she’d be mine in a heartbeat. But I know that scenario is off the table. Besides there being too many deal-breakers between us, I’m not exactly free to date.

  “Is everything okay? It seems like something’s bothering you.” Her words jolt me back to reality.

  “Nah, I’m fine.”

  Lexie cocks her head and places her hand on my knee. My dick springs to life. Christ. This girl gets me hard with a simple touch. Usually, her contact is quick and fleeting, but she doesn’t move her hand this time. It rests on my leg, deepening the ache coursing through my veins. I force myself to quit staring at her fingers and raise my gaze to meet her face. Her beautiful face that stares at me with concern.

  “I can tell something’s eating at you.”

  My lips twitch, refraining from making a sexual innuendo. Lexie’s clueless as to how much she turns me on. I’ve hidden my true feelings well. But I’d give my left nut to be with her. I hate that we can’t be together. But even if I let my guard down, I couldn’t be hers. Not truly. It wouldn’t be fair to her. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

  The words ar
e said jokingly, but the meaning is so far removed from the truth, it’s not even funny. It fucking kills me how much I hide from her. From everyone, really.

  Lexie leans closer, her voice dropping a few decibels. “We’ve been friends a while, so no. You can’t.”

  I swallow past the lump forming in my throat. Did her voice always have that sexy drawl? If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s flirting. But she never flirts with me. What is with her today? Even her morning text was suggestive. I clear my throat, still very aware of her hand on my thigh.

  “I met with my adviser today.”

  Her brows draw in, forming a crease. She gets that cute look whenever she’s contemplating something. “Did it not go well?”

  “He wants me to join an organization. One that will help me with my CV.”

  “Oh.” She straightens up, which prompts her to remove her hand. The cute lines reappear as she contemplates her question. “Can I ask you something without sounding like I’m prying?”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  “Why didn’t you go pro? You’ve never actually told anyone the reason.”

  And I never will. “What? And leave you with this project all to yourself? I could never do that to you.”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Deflecting.”

  One thing about Lexie, she could always see through me. There’s a small portion that wants to tell her the entire truth—this burden I’ve been carrying for so long. One look from those warm, inviting eyes and I have to tamp down the urge to spill the truth. I glance down at the drink in my hand, wondering if they laced it with truth serum. I suck in a breath and decide to go with the partial truth. It’s more than I’ve ever shared with anyone.

  “I have too much responsibility. My parents are expecting me to graduate and either get my masters or go to work. They’re not exactly young and certainly not rich. I need to step up. And going pro comes with too many ‘what-ifs.’”