One Night with a Quarterback Read Free Page B

always told me it’d be the death of me some day.”
    He hid a smile. “Yeah, you kind of do.”
    She gaped at him a moment, then slugged him in the arm and pulled back like she’d been burned. At her wince, he gently took her fist and rubbed his thumb over her fingers. That had to hurt.
    â€œOkay, are you packing rocks in there?” She hissed in a breath, then let it out slowly when he took a chance and kissed the back of her hand. “That’s a little better,” she murmured.
    â€œYou should learn to pick on someone your own size.”
    â€œWho, a fourth grader?” When he didn’t let go of her hand, she stared at their now-laced fingers a moment, then kept walking.
    She went with the flow. He liked it.
    â€œSo what does a guy who hangs out in clubs, wears cute glasses, has biceps like boulders, and takes random chicks with smart mouths for pancakes in the middle of the night do for a living?”
    â€œOh, just hanging out, looking good in glasses and taking random chicks out for pancakes. Throw in some weights and that’s about it.” He smiled at her eye roll. “Not a bad way to make a living.”
    â€œUh-huh.” She stopped for a second, stepping off to the side to admire a shop window. The store behind was pitch black, but the window display of shoes was illuminated. And from the look on her face, she would have climbed in and rolled around in a pile of the things if she’d been able.
    â€œLike shoes?”
    â€œLove,” she corrected. “Love shoes.” She popped one foot to the side and raised the leg of her jeans a little to show off her heel. “When you’re as short as I am, you learn to compensate.” After another fond gaze, she shook back her hair, then bent over at the waist. Surprised, Trey stepped back from the whipping hair and watched as she deftly arranged the long strands into some messy bun thing. “That’s better.”
    Another hundred feet, and he opened the door to the diner for her. She paused for a moment, as if still weighing the pros and cons of going with him. He let the door shut again, still outside.
    â€œYou can head back. I’ll walk you to the lobby.”
    Please don’t say yes.
He’d do it, but it might kill him.
    He wanted more time with her. Almost craved it. Needed to know if she could handle him without imagining him in his number sixteen jersey, and everything that went with it. Needed to know what she, Cassie, thought of him as a man.
    â€œNo. I’m good. We’re good.” With a brilliant smile, she reached over and opened the door herself, stepping through and giving him another minute of hope.

Chapter Two
    Okay. Hot guy, check. Stack of pancakes, check. Last night of freedom . . .
    Damn it.
    Cassie stared at the nearly empty plate in front of Trey. The man ordered almost three times as many pancakes as she had, and demolished them.
    Of course, they were damn good pancakes. Where the diner had lacked in ambiance and service—their server was sitting at the bar, practically asleep on the counter, head pillowed on her arms like she was hungover—the food had been amazing. Her own plate was nearly empty. If it wouldn’t have been disgusting, she might have been tempted to run her finger over the sticky remains and lick the syrup off. But not only would that be disgusting, he might take it as some sort of really bizarre seduction.
    And please. She had better tricks in her bag than that. The point was, did she want to use them?
    â€œSo, Cassie,” Trey asked after a healthy gulp of milk. Milk. The man drank milk. It was almost adorable. Like the way he had to slide his glasses back up his nose an inch every time he looked up from his plate. “What does a smart mouth with a healthy lust for shoes do for a living?”
    â€œIT stuff, mostly.” She leaned in a little, careful not to stick a boob in the syrup, and whispered,