“He’s a pain in the ass.” Ryan stacked plastic cups on the fridge.
“Yeah. But he’s our pain in the ass. I’m going to head down and lock up your car.”
“Thanks.” Ryan threw him the keys.
Ski nodded as he walked out the door. The once-empty halls were filled with crates and boxes. There was already a pyramid of empty beer bottles stacked at the top of the main staircase. Disgusting. He really needed to look into off-campus housing next year.
“Ski!” his second roommate yelled, giving him a fist bump while they carried their belongings up the stairs. More crap to be shoved in that small space of a room.
“The place looks great,” someone else yelled from downstairs. “How did it go this summer?”
Ski navigated around a pile of boxes and jogged for the front door, pretending not to hear the question. The summer was off limits. If he wasn’t talking to Ryan about it, there was no way he was letting anyone else in on his humiliation.
Stones crunched beneath his sneakers as he made his way to Ryan’s Mercedes, parked in the house parking lot. The door hung open in the space next to Ski’s car. The cars couldn’t have been more different, but the men who gave them the cars were the same. Controlling. Infallible.
Ski’s father had never found out about the almost-change of majors, or at least Ski didn’t think he’d found out. If he had, maybe he would have been happier that Ski stayed in pre-med. Instead his father was “distraught” when Ski told him he wasn’t going to be a surgeon. He was “distraught” his son would “waste his talent” in the ER. But he also made it clear he thought Ski would change his mind after med school.
That was best he was going to get from the old man. He’d never get understanding, never get support. It just wasn’t in his father’s DNA. And who knew? Maybe Ski would change his mind. But either way, it was his mind to change.
He leaned into Ryan’s car, checking the back seat. Nothing left. He closed the doors and pushed the button. The car alarm chimed to life as he turned back toward the house. He caught a glimpse of long black hair out of the corner of his eye. No. It wasn’t— was it?
Anger, pain hardened around his heart. He didn’t want to see her. But there she was talking to one of the brothers. The brother pointed at Ski.
She looked toward the parking lot, her eyes searching and then finding him. He wanted to think it was his imagination that her shoulders were slumped. Hope squirmed loose. Dammit. Hope was not good here.
He waited until she actually walked up to him before he said a word. “Samantha.”
“Hi.” She gave a poor excuse for a smile. Of course, his probably wasn’t much better.
“What are you doing here?”
“Picking up the check for the renovation.”
Ski hated hope. He wanted to bash the little bugger into the ground with a baseball bat. Nothing but a disappointment. But he should have known she wouldn’t be here for him. “Ryan’s inside. He should have your check.”
“Thanks.” She twined her fingers together.
“Yeah. Well. I’ll see you around.” As he walked past her, she reached out and touched his arm. The warmth of her fingers— the softness of her hands— it was enough to twist his gut in two. Why did it have to feel so good, when he knew it would only lead to heartache? His body must not have gotten the email.
“Can we talk?”
He unclenched his jaw. “Why? I think we both said everything we needed to say.”
“I didn’t.”
“Hey, Ski, Brent needs you inside,” one of the brothers yelled. Excellent— the perfect excuse to walk away so he didn’t have to listen to whatever heartbreak was heading his way.
“Please come walk with me,” she pleaded.
Mistake. Even thinking about going with her was a mistake. He knew that, so why did he nod in the direction of the house and yell back, “Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Because, even now, he couldn’t say no to her, that’s why.
They turned and headed down the street, away from the noise. She kicked the gravel as she walked, agonizing silence stealing all the air. Finally she looked up at Ski, and his stomach clenched at the sight of the tears pooled in her eyes.
Shit. “Are you okay? Is it your dad?”
“No. No. My dad is fine. He’s officially retired.”
“That’s good news.” He stopped walking and stared at her. It broke his heart watching her. Knowing he couldn’t have her. “What do you want, Samantha?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For hurting you.” A tear slid down her face.
Guilt. This was a guilt visit. Wonderful. The dull knife twisted in his heart a little further. “Don’t worry. I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine. Is that all you wanted?”
“No. I need to know if you accept my apology.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you and I need to know that you forgive me.”
He’d taken hits on the field that knocked less air out of him. When his lungs cooperated, he managed to ask, “What happened to this just being fun?”
“It wasn’t just fun.” She scrubbed a hand across her face. “Well— it was fun, but it was so much more.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I was scared, but I’m not anymore.”
Just in case, he grabbed that slippery bastard Hope and refused to let it run all through him. “Why?”
“Because you make me happy. You make me feel safe. I want to be with you. See where this thing can go.” She took a deep breath, and yes, he appreciated the things it did to her chest. She gnawed the corner of her mouth, watching him. “I want it all. As long as it’s with you. The history talk. The uncomfortable father, daughter, new boyfriend dinner. Everything.” She gave a little laugh. “Although, I think my dad likes you more than me, these days.”
He nodded. “It’s hard to compete with baby aspirin.”
“You saved his life. You’re a hero. To him and to me. Please tell me I’m not too late.”
He wanted it to be too late, after all the pain he’d felt over the past few days. He didn’t want to take another chance. But looking into her eyes undid all his resolve. She loved him. It was everything he’d hoped for. Everything he’d wanted. And he wasn’t dumb enough to turn his back on that, to turn his back on her.
He wrapped his arms around her and held on. He was never going to let her go. “I love you, Sammy.” His lips met hers. Long and deep. She felt good. This felt right.
The sweetest words he’d never get tired of hearing spilled from her lips. “I love you, too.” She leaned into him again with hungry, wanting lips.
“Ski!” Ryan screamed. “Get over here.”
She pulled away— damn Ryan—but she was smiling. “We better get back before your frat brothers carry you away.”
“I’d like to see them try.” He ran a finger under her chin.
She grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let’s get this over with so you can take me out to dinner. And I can show you how much I love you. Over and over again.”
He smiled and led her toward the house. He’d help his brothers for a half hour. Hour, tops. Then he was taking her up on her offer. He wanted to see everything she had to show him. Over and over again.
~»ΨΡ«~
Epilogue
Ski
SKI LEANED against the wall as Samantha threw another dart into the bull’s-eye. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“No kidding, Ski.” Sam batted her long, dark lashes and swooshed her ass from side to side as she held up another dart. She might not be kidding him, but she was definitely playing him.
Not that he cared who won. Well, he wouldn’t care who won, except for… dammit, what did he do?
The night had started out pleasant. They’d shared a nice dinner, a few laughs, a few kisses and then— why was it all bad things followed and then? Then they’d come over to the bar side of the restaurant. Ski thought he’d ask her for a friendly game of darts. The b
oard had been open. He’d teach her a few moves as he wrapped her in his arms.
Sounded so good in his head.
She’d actually asked if he’d show her how to throw a dart, all sweet and innocent. Sweet and innocent. Yeah, right. Hustler was more like it.
“I’m just a quick learner.” She gave him a wide-eyed look before she sent another dart into the center ring.
Con. Artist.
“Well, I guess I win.” She pulled her darts. “Beginner’s luck.”
“Beginner?”
“I might have played once or twice.” She slid the darts into the lip below the board and grinned over her shoulder.
Once or twice, my ass.
“So.” She grabbed her tool belt from the chair in the corner. “I believe you need this.”
Ski took the belt as his chin dropped to his chest. Crap.
CAR HEADLIGHTS followed Ski as he walked down the block ten minutes later. Four blocks. He only had to make it four blocks. The cool night air crawled up and down his body, Samantha’s tool belt the only thing blocking the wind. The. Only. Thing.
He never should have agreed to this, but when Samantha offered the bet he couldn’t say no. Ski was a dart god. So, he took the sure thing. If he won, she’d do a dance in nothing but her tool belt. Her body bare, with only her tools. Hot. If she won, he’d run home in nothing but her tool belt. Nothing. Birthday suit. Nada. The full monty.
Who would have thought she’d win?
A horn honked. “Ski!”
He turned partway around, squinting into the glare as a car slowed down behind him. Not Samantha.
“Ooh baby!” Great. Sorority women.
“Move your hands!”
Hell, no. “Keep going. There’s nothing to see here.”
“If you move your hands, there will be something to see,” a girl screamed just as Samantha pulled her truck over to the curb. The other women whooped and sped down the street.
“Wanna ride?” Samantha leaned out the window.
“I only have a block to go. What, are you jealous?” He moved one hand and shifted the belt lower on his hips.
“Jealous? No.” Fire burned in her gaze as her eyes slid up and down his body. “But let’s get you home.”
“I like the sound of that.” He walked up to the truck and rested a hand on the doorframe. He leaned in. Her lips got closer and closer. The faint aroma of pizza and beer still scented her breath.
His lips met hers. Soft at first, growing hard and demanding. His monty was definitely starting to get full. The redistribution of air reminded him why this was a bad idea. “Not here.”
She looked down and smiled. “No, not here.”
“I’m going to run. I’ll meet you at the frat.”
“I’m calling my dad. I don’t think I’m going to make it home tonight.”
“Good choice.”
She pulled out her phone, and Ski headed down the last block of his punishment, turning the corner to the frat house.
The frat.
He’d forgot about the guys. Not like they hadn’t seen him wearing less— in the locker room, for instance. Or during his pledge week.
Ski walked up to the house just as Ryan opened the front door, the sounds of the brothers inside telling him it was a full house. Ryan stepped outside and threw a towel at Ski’s chest.
Ski grabbed it and wrapped the towel around his waist under the tool belt. “Thanks.”
“Yep.” Ryan produced a beer and stuck it in Ski’s waiting hand before dropping into a chair on the front deck.
Ski spun the top off the bottle and looked down the empty block. Samantha’s truck was nowhere to be found. He sat a few chairs down from Ryan and set the cap on the windowsill. “How was the party?”
“Good. How was the date?” Ryan stared out toward the street and tilted his own beer back.
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Yep.” Air kicked up, chilling Ski’s overexposed skin. Heavy rock music thumped from inside as the brothers celebrated being back on campus. The smell of pot and beer wafted out onto the porch.
“So, should I ask?” Ryan took another drink. He hadn’t turned his head to look at Ski once, not that Ski blamed him.
Ski ran a hand down his naked chest. “Lost a bet.”
“That sucks.”
“Hey, boys.” Samantha came around the house carrying his clothes.
Clothes. Thank goodness. Ski jumped from the chair and held out his hand. Samantha smiled and pulled the clothes closer to her chest.
“I need to put those on.”
“Now that would be silly,” she whispered, “when I’m just going to have to take them off. I’ll meet you upstairs.” Hips swaying, she disappeared through the front door.
Shit. All he could do was stare after her. The woman was tempting and sexy and hot. And he couldn’t wait to get her alone. The things he’d do.
“She went up to our room, right?” Ryan asked. Was Ryan still here?
“Yep.”
“Then why are you down here?”
“Right.” Ski handed the half-empty beer to Ryan. He adjusted the tool belt over the towel and walked into the frat house. Maybe if he played his cards right, he’d get his part of the bet and have her in this belt and nothing else.
Tonight just kept getting better and better.
~»ΨΡ«~
EXTRAS
If you enjoyed reading about Ski and Samantha, watch for the next book in the Ritter University series, featuring Ski’s frat brother Ryan Kent. What Happens in College... will be available late summer 2015, through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iBooks.
Thank you for supporting an independent author. It would be great if you could leave a review or a rating wherever you purchased this book, or on Goodreads.
Would you like to know when my next book is available? You can sign up for my new release email list at http://www.vanessamknight.com or like my Facebook page at http://facebook.com/vanessamknightauthor.
Please turn the page for the first chapter of the next book in the series, What Happens in College...
Other Books by Vanessa
Chicago’s Finest Series (in order)
Second Time’s the Charm
Stark Raving Mad
Ritter University Series (in order)
Major Renovations
What Happens in College... [August 2015]
Christmas Breakdown [October 2015]
Rushing In [January 2016]
What Happens in College...
Chapter One
Karina
THE LIGHTS in the basement were dimmed, the music was too loud, and Karina Wolfe’s roommate, Savannah Whitley, was wearing a dress short enough to read her lips.
“How are you dancing in that dress without giving everyone a peep show?” Karina raised her voice enough to be heard over the music and dropped onto the couch, balancing her plastic cup of water. First night at Ritter University, first party— even if it was off-campus— first opportunity to embarrass herself. All good reasons why she had skipped the spiked punch and stuck with water.
“Well that’s easy.” Savannah fanned her blonde hair across her narrow back, the straight strands immediately slipping back in front of her shoulders. Everything about Savannah was narrow— and long— and tall. “I only slow dance, sway, and country line dance.”
Gabriella Blanco pulled on the pink stretchy material that barely covered Savannah’s lady bits, tugging it down about a half inch. “Sway?” She straightened up, the bling on her belt accenting the way her low-slung jeans clung to her hips.
“Sway. You know, back and forth. All that arm-throwing and butt-thumping is unnecessary. It’s all just foreplay, anyway.”
“If only her preacher father could hear her.” Gabi gulped down half her glass of punch.
Karina laughed. “If only your boyfriend back home could hear you now.”
Savannah gave Gabi a pathetic excuse for a glare. “Keep my daddy out of it
, and Leland would be just fine. He knows how much I love him.”
Karina sipped her water and wondered about the fake smile at the end— who was Savannah trying to convince?
Gabi dropped into the space next to her on the couch, her cut-off T-shirt with Latina Princess in pink glitter riding up over her flat stomach. “We’re not sitting here long. We’re going back out to dance.” She pulled her long dark brown hair away from her sweat-soaked olive skin. All Karina needed was four hours in the sun, a boob-job, and butt injections, and she too, could look that good.
“You can go anytime,” Savannah told Gabi. “Karina and I will go when we’re good and ready, bossy-pants.” Savannah had barely touched the drink in her hand. Her eyes were too busy bouncing from side to side. Maybe that’s why the girl could dance for forty-five minutes and not break a sweat. There was no liquid in her system.
Karina didn’t have that problem. She lifted her dark blonde hair off her neck, ignoring the sweat beading and dripping down her face. Her hair was barely past her shoulders and it was too hot— how did Savannah stand it? Her black jeans were stuck to the back of her thighs, and she tugged on the neck of her damp T-shirt to get some air on her skin. “How are you not sweating?”
“My momma always told me women don’t sweat. We glisten.” Savannah sipped her drink and Gabi rolled her eyes.
If it were only that simple. If only Karina would miraculously stop sweating because her mom said so. Her mom would love that, just pull some magic puppet strings and no more sweating… Check. Another pull of those strings and no more “slovenly” wardrobe, all jeans and T-shirts banished… Check. No more “horrible” attitude… Check.
A boy-band lookalike gazed in their direction across the dance floor. Karina smiled and nudged Savannah. “Speaking of fine. You have an admirer.”
Major Renovations (Ritter University #1) Page 10
