Players of Marycliff University Box Set, Books 1–3

by Jerica MacMillan

  His silliness helped her relax, and she smiled at him. “Oh, very. You’re very impressive.”

  “That’s what she said.” His deadpan delivery made the joke even funnier than it should’ve been.

  Abby threw back her head and laughed long and hard. She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. “I can’t believe you just made a ‘that’s what she said’ joke in the middle of a date in an expensive restaurant.” A wide smile stretched across his face, and he obviously felt no remorse.

  Their waiter walked up and filled their water goblets, smiling at the hilarity written on their faces, but obviously having missed the joke. “Would you like to hear our specials?”

  At their nods, he rattled off the soup of the day as well as two entrée specials. Abby held back her grimace of distaste when he listed the seafood special, but thought the steak option sounded good. It was probably expensive, though. The waiter took their drink orders and left.

  Abby scanned the menu, trying to pick something. Maybe I should just get a salad. Her eyes went wide when she saw the cost of a salad. She could only guess how much the steak special cost if they charged that much for a salad.

  “Abby.” Lance’s voice was low, reclaiming her attention.

  She looked up. “Hmm?”

  “Relax. Pick something you think sounds good. Don’t worry about the price, okay?”

  Abby’s cheeks grew warm. How did he know what she was thinking? “Okay.” She let her gaze drift back to the menu, still trying to pick something that wouldn’t cost a complete fortune, but feeling like she could get more than soup or a salad.

  After a few moments they’d both closed their menus and laid them on the table. Lance reached for his water and took a drink. “So you already said you’re from here. Do your parents still live around here? Any siblings or are you an only child?”

  Abby wasn’t thrilled to talk about her family, so she picked the easiest question to answer and turned the question back on him. “Yup. A brother. What about you? Do you have any siblings?” If she asked more questions, maybe she could keep the attention on him long enough that they’d run out of time before delving too deeply into her background.

  He nodded. “Two sisters, one older and one younger.” He sat slightly forward, one arm braced in front of him. The other was laid casually across the table in her direction. His gaze was focused intently on her face.

  “What are their names?” She reached for her water, needing a barrier to protect herself from his singular focus. It was intimidating.

  “Marissa is the oldest, she’s twenty-five. Gabby—Gabrielle—is the youngest. She’s seventeen and will be a senior in the fall.”

  “And are you the protective older brother?” She kept the wince off her face and the wistfulness out of her voice at the mention of a protective older brother. Lord knew she could’ve used one. Instead she wound up with Aaron. He’d stuck by her when they were little, but by the time he was a teenager, he stayed away from home as much as possible, leaving Abby to bear the brunt of caring for their mom and dealing with her constant stream of anxiety and phobias. Abby didn’t know what he’d been up to and didn’t care, especially since he left as soon as she graduated high school.

  Lance smiled, his handsome face distracting her from thoughts of her asshole brother. “I didn’t get much chance to be too protective with Gabby. I’ve been gone for most of the last four years up here. She was only thirteen when I left and hadn’t started dating yet. Marissa got annoyed by me trying to size up her boyfriends, though.”

  Abby laughed, imagining a younger, scrawnier version of Lance trying to intimidate his big sister’s boyfriends. “I bet. She probably didn’t want her little brother trying to intimidate or run off her dates.”

  “I never tried to run them off.” His face turned serious. “I just let them know there’d be consequences if they hurt her.”

  Abby laughed harder. “I bet they were really intimidated by a scrawny kid three years younger.”

  Lance pulled an offended look. “Hey, now. I wasn’t that scrawny.” His face relaxed, and he smiled again at Abby’s skeptical look. “No, really, I wasn’t. I was already over six feet tall by the end of seventh grade, and I’ve played football my whole life.”

  “Your whole life?” She tried to imagine a baby in a helmet and shoulder pads and had to bite her lip to hold back a smile.

  “More or less,” he replied with a shrug. “Pee wee football starts in kindergarten.”

  Abby’s mouth dropped open. “Kindergarten? What, like flag football?”

  Drawing his eyebrows together, Lance shook his head. “No. Full tackle with pads and everything. They don’t do that here?”

  “No. My brother didn’t play football until sixth grade, and that was only flag football. Tackle football leagues don’t start until seventh grade around here.”

  Lance’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “Seventh grade? Wow, that’s late. A kid that didn’t start football until seventh grade would be seriously behind in Texas.” The waiter brought their drinks and took their order. Lance ordered the steak special and Abby got Parmesan crusted chicken. “Anyway, so you have a brother?” Lance asked.

  With an internal sigh at being unable to avoid the question, Abby tried not to sound resentful when she answered. “Yeah.”

  Propping his chin on his fist, Lance looked at her, obviously expecting her to expand on her answer.

  She realized she needed to throw him a bone, but hoped to deflect attention away from her as quickly as possible. Aaron was one of her least favorite subjects of conversation. “His name is Aaron. He’s two years older than me. So is your older sister married?”

  Lance leaned back in his chair, studying her, his brown eyes serious and far too perceptive. “No, not yet. She’s been dating a guy for a while, and my mom thinks they might be pretty serious. Are you close with your brother?”

  Not wanting to even verbalize the hard no that would pop out, Abby shook her head and immediately turned the question back on him. “Are you close with your sisters?”

  Lance tilted his head back and forth. “I talk to Gabby more than Marissa since Gabby still lives with Mom and Dad. She keeps me updated on her life when I call on Sundays. I don’t talk to Marissa very often, but we catch up every couple of months.”

  Where was the food? Maybe if the food came soon, they could talk about something else. Or their mouths would be full and unable to talk. Either way this conversation could end. Her eyes darting around, Abby tried to come up with something to say to keep the conversation moving and not reveal too much of herself. “So your parents are still together? That’s cool.”

  Lance narrowed his eyes and reached for his soda. “I take it yours aren’t?”

  Clamping her lips together in frustration at giving anything away, Abby shook her head.

  Lance reached across the table, pulled her hand away from where she was fiddling with her fork, and held it in his. “What happened?” His voice was soft, inviting confidence.

  With a deep breath, Abby focused her eyes on where his long, tan fingers wrapped around her small, pale hand. She decided to give him as many bare facts as possible—they were supposedly getting to know each other after all, that’s what people did on dates, right? It was all ancient history at this point anyway. “He bailed when I was a little kid. I don’t even remember him, I was that little when he left. It’s always just been my mom, my brother, and me. And since Aaron took off, it’s just Mom and me.”

  His brows pinched together, Lance stroked his thumb across her palm. “That sounds like it was hard.”

  When she looked up at him, his gaze was focused on his thumb caressing her hand. And somehow that made it easier for her to look at his face, with its dark, even brows and firm jaw, as she answered. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know anything different, though, so it is what it is. Can we talk about something else? I don’t like talking about my parents.” She tried to pull her hand back, but Lance wouldn’t let go. />
  He brought his eyes to her face, giving her that same all-too-perceptive once over that made it clear he knew exactly how uncomfortable she was. “Sure. We can talk about something else.” She let out her breath on a relieved exhale, happy when he lobbed her a softball. “What’s your favorite color?”

  Since she couldn’t tear her eyes from his, all she could think to say was, “Brown.”

  Lance’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Brown?”

  Flushing, she looked down at her hand in his, trying to come up with a cover. “I know. Most people think brown is such a boring color. And I admit it can be, but there are some things that are brown that are just rich and beautiful.”

  He smiled. “Like what?” His voice was curious, not challenging.

  She looked around the room, hoping for inspiration. “Leather. Wood. Eyes.” On the last word, she met his eyes again. Yours, specifically. Biting her lip, she kept the words from spilling out. Lance held her gaze, leaning closer.

  And then suddenly releasing her hand and leaning back when the waiter arrived and placed their food in front of them, breaking the strange intimacy of the moment.

  Feeling a mix of relief and disappointment, Abby tucked her hair behind her ear and picked up her fork. “And what’s your favorite color?” she asked, wanting to keep the easy questions going. The rest of the meal continued with light topics, both of them trading questions and stories. Abby successfully steered conversation away from uncomfortable topics like her mother, and while Lance seemed aware of what she was doing, he didn’t push. He had topics he liked to avoid too, like going back to Texas at the end of the summer, so she returned the favor and let that topic go.

  This was a light and casual date. No need for either of them to get into sharing their deepest and darkest secrets.

  “Would you like to see the dessert menu?” the waiter asked when he returned to clear their plates.

  Lance arched an eyebrow at Abby in question. She shook her head. “I’m stuffed.”

  Getting out his credit card, Lance took care of the bill.

  On the way out of the restaurant, Abby was very conscious of Lance walking close beside her, one hand on the small of her back. Once in the lobby, he ran his hand down her arm and threaded his fingers through hers, just like he had when he picked her up from her apartment. Abby glanced up at him, not sure what to make of the gesture. Their date was ending. And with it, their relationship, such as it was. He was a great guy, but she knew she wasn’t the type of girl he was looking for. But he just smiled back at her, continuing to hold her hand until they arrived at his car.

  Lance turned her to face him and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. His hand traveled to the nape of her neck, drew her close, and his mouth came down on hers. Abby gasped at the contact of his lips, the reality of his kiss surpassing her memory of last night’s, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue along her lips and into her mouth. He tasted her, savored her, then broke off, leaving her panting against the side of his car, wishing for more. He unlocked her door and held it open for her while Abby was still reeling from the kiss.

  After closing her door, Lance slid into the driver’s seat and kissed her again, the same kind of earth-moving, breath-stealing kiss. “What would you like to do now?”

  Abby took a deep breath, acutely aware that Lance’s hand still cupped the back of her head. Even though she wanted more of those kisses—so many more, all of them forever. Because she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of them. But despite that, she’d made her decision. She wasn’t going to sleep with him. If she felt this addicted from just a few kisses, she’d be ruined if they went any farther. She knew it would only be the once, and she didn’t think she could handle that. “Go home?” Despite her stern reminders to herself of her good intentions, the statement still came out more like a question than it should have.

  Lance smiled, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Are you asking me? Because if you are, then I say no. Unless you mean going home with me?” The hopeful tone offset his sexy smirk with just a hint of sweetness that she almost couldn’t resist.

  But she firmed her resolve and grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from her head. “No, I really need to go home.”

  “Why? Let’s hang out some more. I like hanging out with you.” He was almost pleading with her now. It was flattering, but she reminded herself that she was just another notch on his bedpost. He was attracted to her, for whatever reason, and wanted to seal the deal. But she wasn’t like that. It was best if they went their separate ways.

  She gave him a soft smile. “Thank you. I like hanging out with you too, but I need to go home.”

  Lance frowned at her insistence that he take her home, and then his frown deepened when he looked down at his hand that she’d placed on the seat between them. “Why do you need to go home?” He sounded grumpy now.

  “I need to do laundry, remember?” It was a lame excuse, and she knew it. She knew he knew it too. But it was the one she’d given him yesterday, so she was sticking with it.

  “It’s only two. Can’t laundry wait a little longer?”

  Abby shook her head. “No. I need to get it done tonight, and I have to work tomorrow so I don’t want to stay up late to do it.”

  His frown softening, Lance’s eyes roamed her face, studying her like he was trying to see inside her. “You really need to do laundry that bad?” he asked quietly.

  Swallowing hard, she nodded and looked down at where her hand still covered his. “Yeah, I do. I need clean clothes for work.”

  Lance sighed and turned toward the steering wheel, taking his hand away, and Abby felt unaccountably sad about that. “Alright. Home it is.”

  The drive back to Abby’s apartment went by in charged silence. Lance rested his hand on her leg, just above her knee, except for when he needed to shift. Abby was glad that he hadn’t completely withdrawn, and since she knew she wouldn’t see him again, she enjoyed the simple affection of his fingers and thumb caressing her skin.

  At her apartment complex, Lance pulled into a spot across from her door. He killed the engine and turned to face her, his hand starting to travel up her thigh.

  “Thanks for lunch. I had a nice time.” She blurted out the words.

  Abby knew Lance was going to kiss her again, and she wasn’t sure if she could tell him no again after one of her kisses. With his track record, he’d still try to convince her to let him inside or come home with him, even though they were already at her place.

  His head leaned towards hers. “I had a nice time, too.” He brushed his lips against hers once, then again. When he pulled back, Abby was at once relieved and disappointed that it was such a simple and chaste kiss.

  “Can we make plans for tomorrow?”

  Abby blinked at him, then jerked back in shock when his words finally registered. “What?” This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to say he’d call her, or something equally lame and untrue, and they’d both go their separate ways. He’d find someone else to smash, and she’d cherish the memory of those perfect kisses. Why was he changing the rules?

  Lance stared at her, confused. “Tomorrow. Can we do something tomorrow?” He spoke slowly, like she needed help catching on.

  “Why?” She voiced the question that ping ponged around her head. Megan said he never went out with someone more than twice. Pie that first night obviously didn’t count, but he’d said yesterday and today were dates. This should be over now.

  Lance furrowed his brow. “What do you mean why? I just told you I like hanging out with you. You have to do laundry today. I get that you don’t want to wear dirty clothes or stay up too late, so I’m dropping you off. But I want to see you again. I figured tomorrow would be a good option.”

  “I thought you didn’t see anyone more than once or twice.” She couldn’t keep her thoughts from coming directly out of her mouth, and other than why, this was the other thing zooming around and around in her brain.

  Lance’s brows drew d
own. Now he looked angry as well as confused. “What? Why do you think that?”

  Abby waved his question away, definitely not wanting to answer it. Who wants to hear that people spread rumors about their sex life? No one. No one wants to know that. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, it’s not like this can go anywhere. You’re leaving in two months. I’m staying here. What’s the point?”

  “We can’t see each other because I’m leaving? We can’t have some fun together because it has a definite end date?” His voice grew louder and more agitated as he talked.

  Abby put a hand on his arm, reflexively trying to soothe him. “Okay. I just … if I spend every day with you, I might get attached. And then you’ll leave, and I’ll be here. I’m tired of being left. I can’t.” It was the truth. The simplest and honest assessment of why her spending time with him was a bad idea. The only lie was the “might.” She’d definitely get attached. She was already a little attached as it was. Best to end this now, even if he wasn’t following his usual pattern.

  Lance blew out a breath and seemed to deflate with it. He covered her hand with his and nodded. “Okay. Fine.” Though it sounded anything but okay or fine with him.

  Pushing open his door, he climbed out and walked around the car to Abby’s door. He held it open while she got out, then took her hand to walk her to her apartment. He waited for her to unlock her door, then cupping her face in his hands, kissed her. His lips were soft and gentle on hers. It was a kiss full of promise and longing.

  He pulled away, still holding her face in his hands. His eyes studied her one last time. “Goodbye, Abby.”

  “Goodbye, Lance.” There was a finality to their words that made her heart fill with a melancholy ache. But she embraced it.

  After a beat, he let her go, and she turned and went inside without a backwards glance.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A key scraped in the lock, and the front door opened in a way that suggested the person coming in hoped to remain undetected. Chris turned the handle before pushing the door closed and turned the handle back so it latched.