Scoring Chance (Carolina Comets)

Miller’s fingers must be magic because in the last week since our date, I’ve written ten chapters.

And I haven’t deleted a single one.

It’s safe to say at this point he’s my muse. After we kissed for the first time, I wrote. After the other night in his car, I really wrote. I can’t stop thinking about my book, and the urge to write has never been stronger. I know it’s all because of Miller and the way being with him makes me feel—alive.

He hasn’t been around in three days thanks to the season starting, but we’re still texting all the time. We haven’t yet gotten a chance to go on our second date—that’s tonight—and I am more than looking forward to it.

I’ve never really been one to fool around on the first date, but when Miller slid his fingers up my legs, it was like my body just knew what it wanted—him. And oh, man, was it right. I still can’t shake the feeling of him between my thighs, can’t get over the way I fell apart around him. The way he stroked me gently and kissed me so damn tenderly while I came down from my high…

He might be a virgin, but he’s no fool. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

To say I was shocked when he confessed his virginity to me would be an understatement. That was the absolute last thing I thought he was going to say. It doesn’t seem real. How can he be twenty-four, a professional hockey player, and a virgin? Women throw themselves at him constantly. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, for crying out loud!

When he told me his reasoning, part of me felt bad for him because it’s obvious he struggles with missing out on so many “normal” things because of his dedication to hockey. I mean, he’s glad it all paid off, but I can see where that could be hard sometimes. He’d never even had a Yoo-hoo until the other night at the drive-in.

That was another surprise—there was no way he could have known what that place meant to me when he pulled into the abandoned lot, which made it all that much sweeter that he chose it.

I used to love the drive-in for my own reasons, but now…now I love it for others.

I clench my thighs together for probably the fifth time today.

“Aunt Scout! Miller is here!” Macie calls from the common area, which she and Stevie are currently cleaning up.

“What?!”

I poke my head out of the truck window, and sure enough, Miller is here.

Well, not technically here here.

He’s currently across the street, sitting up on a stone ledge. Next to him is Eddie, who is waving his hands in the air, talking fast. He must be telling some story because Miller has his head thrown back in laughter. They look like two old friends catching up.

A smile overtakes my face at the sight of them together.

Most people would turn their nose up at Eddie. Hell, I’ve witnessed assholes driving by and yelling obscenities out their windows at him, some truly vile things.

Then you have Miller, a hotshot hockey player taking five minutes out of his busy day to treat this man like the human being he is.

I’m so glad he’s not an asshole.

Almost as if he can sense I’m thinking about him, he turns his head and looks my way.

I see the grin that fills his face, and he elbows Eddie, then nods toward me. Eddie turns his attention in my direction, then says something to Miller. I wish like hell I could read lips from this far away because his grin grows wider as he nods, agreeing with whatever Eddie said to him.

Miller pats Eddie on the back and gets up, heading toward the truck.

I busy myself with work as he saunters—and I really do mean saunters—over. I may act like I’m not paying him any attention, but from the smirk on his face, he knows I am very much tuned in to what he’s doing.

He sends a wave to Macie and Stevie as he makes his way up to the window.

“Hey,” he says casually when he reaches the truck.

“Um, hi. Did I get the time of our date wrong?” I ask.

“Nope. We’re still on for four. I was just coming by to see Eddie.”

“Do you hang out with him often?”

I’ve seen Miller talking with him several times over the years. He always buys him donuts and coffee, and they sit on the wall or along the sidewalk.

“I try to stop and see him at least weekly, sometimes more often if I can find him. He moves around to a few different places, but since I come here so often, I try to check up on him here.”

“How’d you meet him?”

He lifts a shoulder. “He was here. I was here. We just started talking. We’ve been friends since. I’ve tried to get him off the streets a few times, but he refuses, and I’m not going to push it. But during the winter, when it gets cold, I make him at least let me pay for a hotel so he can warm up.”

“That’s sweet of you, Miller.”

His brows furrow. “It’s not sweet. It’s basic human decency.”

“Trust me, not every person is decent like that. The things I’ve heard people say to him…”

His face darkens. “Let me catch one asshole saying shit to him. Wright won’t be the only one to get arrested on our team.”

“Oh my gosh. I almost forgot about that.”

It happened just a few weeks after the Comets lost in the Finals in one of the worst ways ever. It was all over the news, and people were worried Wright was going to get shipped to a different team, but he didn’t. He stayed and came back better than ever the following year.

“Need any help cleaning up?” he asks, looking around at the mess I’m still working on.

Sundays are always our busiest days, and this one was no exception. The line was out of the parking lot at one point, and it just seemed to get bigger and bigger. I’m about eighty percent sure it’s because we brought back the Comets Cosmic Brownie donut for the start of the season, and fans were hoping a player would be here. I wanted to ask Miller to stop by, but given how much we’ve been hanging out lately, it felt weird cashing in a favor like that.

“I think I’m about done. Macie and Stevie are working on the tables now, and I’m almost finished in here. I was going to run home and clean up first. I most definitely need a shower.”

“Or…” he says. “You can shower at my place.”

I lift my brows. “Your place?”

He nods. “I was thinking maybe I can make you dinner.”

I was not expecting that. “You cook?”

“A little. Not much.” He blows out a breath. “All right, fine. I was going to boil noodles, throw some jar sauce on top, and call it good.”

I wrinkle my nose. “No. That will not do. How about I cook, and you can make a salad?”

“I feel like that’s not fair. You’ve been working all day.”

“I don’t mind. It’ll be a nice break from making sweets.”

“We can run by the store after you’re done here and grab ingredients if you want? We can stop by your place and grab clothes for tomorrow.”

He says it so causally like he didn’t just skip over the many hours we still have left in the day.

Does this mean…

“I’ve never had a slumber party either,” he says. “Figured since we’re checking some things off my list, like Yoo-hoos, maybe try that one too. Plus, I’m leaving for an extended away trip soon. If you stay over, we could maybe even get a third date in before I go.”

I feel like it should scare me, like I shouldn’t be staying at his place so soon. I wait for the little voice in my head that says it’s a bad idea and we should take it slow.

But it never comes.

I’m not sure how I feel about it, but before I can analyze it, Stevie says, “She’ll stay!”

“Stevie!” I yell at her.

“What?” She shrugs. “I’ve totally been listening in the whole time. You should stay at his place.” She looks at Miller. “And it’s really weird that you’ve never had a Yoo-hoo before.”

“Don’t judge.”

“And stop listening in!” I add.

She walks away with her hands in the air like she’s innocent when we all know she’s far from it. She’s probably just going somewhere else to hide and listen.

Miller looks back at me. “Don’t let her pressure you. If you don’t want to stay over, you don’t have to. It’s not like I’m expecting anything, if you catch my drift.”

I do catch it, and I appreciate it. But…I actually think I’d be okay if something did happen. I didn’t realize how dormant I’ve felt in the last three years, and now that I’ve had an orgasm that didn’t come from my vibrator, I want more.

“I can do a slumber party,” I tell him.

“Yeah?” I nod. “Cool.” He leans closer. “And, Scout?”

I inch forward. “Yes?”

“Maybe don’t pack any pajamas.”

He shoves off the truck, spinning away and leaving me there with my mouth hanging open.

Stevie holds her hand up for a high five. “Nice.”

He smirks…and taps his hand to hers.

For what feels like the hundredth time, I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into with Miller…and why I’m so excited about it.

“Do you want cheese on the garlic bread?”

“Yes, please.”

I nod, grabbing a tub of grated parmesan. Normally I’d grate it myself, but I have no idea what kind of supplies Miller has at his place.

We look ridiculous walking through the store together right now. I’m still wearing my trusty overalls, and my hair is a chaotic mess. He’s my exact opposite—put together in jeans and a nice t-shirt that looks entirely too soft and still has fold marks on it.

“Do you have extra virgin olive oil at home?”

“Among other types of virgins, yes.”

“Miller!” I hiss.

“What? I meant you and butt stuff.”

I shake my head, steering the cart toward the next item on our list.

When we get to the aisle with the tomato paste, I’m annoyed it’s on the top shelf. Why do they have to put things so high?

I rise up on my tiptoes and reach for the jar, but I don’t make it very far before Miller is there behind me. One hand goes to my waist, and his warmth washes over me as he reaches around, grabbing the jar with ease. My ass is lined up with his cock, and I don’t miss the way he presses against me, making sure I feel every single inch of him.

Two can play that game.

I grind against him, adding friction to the fire he’s trying to ignite.

He groans, and a deep growl moves through him. “Woman.”

I laugh, ducking under his arm and squeezing around him. “What?”

“You’re mean.”

“Oh, I’m mean? You know exactly what you were just doing.”

“Reaching for the jar you needed?”

“Uh-huh.” I glance down at the bulge that’s not so hidden in his jeans. “You know what they say, Miller: play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

“Oh, I have a prize for you…”

I let out a loud squeak as he stalks toward me with a spark in his eyes that’s pure desire.

He doesn’t stop until he has me pressed against the cart. He places his hands on it, caging me in like he’s a predator and I’m his prey.

“I hope you know that once we get home, this game will continue…and you will lose.”

“Is it really losing if I’m satisfied in the end?” I challenge with a lifted brow.

He narrows his eyes. “Who said I’m going to let you come?”

“I saw the look in your eye the other night, and I think you enjoyed your fingers between my legs as much as I did.”

He knows I have him there. “You—”

“Hey, you creep! You leave that young woman alone!”

Miller whirls around, and I peek around him to find an old woman pointing a finger at us.

“I’m not—”

“OH MY GOD, HIS PENIS!”

Miller rushes toward her. “Ma’am! I—”

“Security! Security! He’s trying to touch me with his penis!”

Then, the old woman starts screaming, and that’s when all hell breaks loose.

“I can’t believe she hit you, or that you went down.”

“I can’t believe she called security on me. I’m the one who was assaulted!”

“Well, you did point your boner directly at her…”

“A boner that was your fault!” He winces when I remove the ice pack from his face. There’s a cut from the metal spikes on her purse and a pretty dark bruise has formed, but it’s nothing too serious. “What the hell did she even have in her bag? That thing was heavy as hell.”

“I’m pretty sure it was full of bingo daubers. I counted like twenty while we waited for management to sort it out.”

“Seriously?”

I nod. “Seriously. And then she asked for your autograph after all of that.”

He shakes his head. “I’m just glad nobody called the police.”

“She threatened to.”

“I didn’t even do anything!”

He rises off his stool as he says this, but I shove him back down.

“I know,” I say. “They know too. We got it all settled.”

He groans. “God, Coach is going to flip when he hears about this tomorrow. And all the guys are going to laugh.”

I giggle because it’s hilarious when you think about it. Miller doesn’t appreciate it, sending a stern glare my way, which in turn makes me laugh harder.

Eventually he cracks, and we’re both laughing.

“You know,” he says once we’ve settled down, “we’re really not having a good track record with dates. The first one I…”

“Ruined it by screaming at the waiter about your virginity, and the second…”

“I ruined with my virgin wiener.”

That sends us into another fit of laughter.

“I think I’m most upset we ended up leaving the store empty-handed because I was really looking forward to our dinner,” Miller says.

“It’s fine. We’ll do it another night. Besides, I was kind of craving pizza anyway.”

“I think we needed something easy after that chaos. It should be here in about ten minutes if you want to go shower.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, even though I really do want to wash up. I’m still a mess from working in the truck all day.

“Yeah,” he says, taking the ice pack from my hands. “I’ll be fine. My bedroom is down at the end of the hall. The bathroom is kind of hard to miss from there. I’ll give you the grand tour after we eat.”

“If you insist…” I hop off the stool and start heading that way, then realize my mistake. “Oh crap! We forgot to stop by my place for clothes. Now our slumber party is ruined.”

“No. No way. We’ve already had enough things get ruined—this one won’t be one of them. I’ll find you something to wear.”

I laugh. “Yeah, right. Your clothes aren’t going to fit me, Miller.”

He narrows his eyes. “I’ll find you something and set it on the bathroom counter.”

I want to argue because there is just no way he’s going to find anything that’ll cover everything, but he’s already had a hard enough evening, so I don’t.

“Okay. I’ll be quick,” I promise, heading off down the hall.

Miller lives in one of the big, swanky buildings downtown that overlooks the city, and his place is massive. Stevie and I could easily fit our entire apartment inside of his living room. I’m dying to peek around in every room, but I don’t want to be nosy. I can’t help myself when I get to his bedroom, though. I have to look around.

I don’t know why, but to me, Miller always screamed a messy-frat-guy apartment. That’s not the case at all. It’s neat and tidy, and even his bed is made to perfection. I wonder if he has a cleaner come in or if he’s just this organized himself.

There aren’t any knickknacks lying around, just a book on the side table. I peek at the cover and burst out laughing when I see what he’s reading: The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Of course that’s what he’s reading.

I set the book back down, then make my way into his bathroom. It’s the same monochromatic scheme as the rest of the house, but the real beauty of the space is the massive walk-in shower. There’s no door; you just walk right in, and there’s a frosted glass window so you’re not completely boxed in. Deep gray stonework covers every inch, and there’s a black bench tucked in the back. It’s easily the most gorgeous bathroom I’ve ever seen in person.

I strip, setting my dirty clothes near his hamper, then I turn on the water to let it heat up. Water spurts out from two different directions, and I giggle with glee because I already know this is going to be the best shower of my life.

Once the water is warmed up—which takes all of twenty seconds—I step inside and literally groan with relief when the heat rushes over me.

I stand under the streams for several minutes before I even consider doing anything else. There’s not much in the way of products in here—though that’s not surprising—so I make do with what I have. I apologize to my hair for having to use the 2-in-1, then squirt some of his woodsy-scented body wash into my hands.

I freeze when I hear the door creak open and then remember it’s just Miller bringing me clothes, and I relax. I know he can’t really see, just the outline, but I can still feel his eyes on me. My immediate reaction is to be embarrassed by this, but I can’t bring myself to actually feel that way, not when I can feel his stare dancing along my body as I rinse the soap away.

There’s a part of me that wants to invite him into the shower, wants to haul him to me and kiss him senseless…but I’m not sure I’m ready for that quite yet.

Based on the fact that the soap is long gone by the time he makes the decision to leave the bathroom, he’s thinking about it too.

Once he’s gone, I shut the water off and grab the nearest towel to dry off.

“Oh god.” I moan, slipping it around my body. “Even the freaking towels are amazing.”

I notice my dirty clothes are gone, and sitting on the counter are the replacements.

I laugh when I pick them up. “He’s insane. This won’t fit.”

I’m proven wrong when I pull the shirt over my body, and not only does it fit, but there’s also still room. It hits mid-thigh, which is good because I have no underwear and the pair of shorts Miller left won’t fit.

I run my fingers through my wet hair, fluffing it up a bit so I don’t go out there looking like a drowned rat.

I look at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a shirt that’s just big enough to cover me, but if I lift my arms at all, all my goodies are going to hang out, and I look ridiculous with my wet hair. This is the best I can do given the situation, though.

The situation is I’m staying the night with Grady Miller.

Oh god. What the hell has my life turned into over the last month and a half? I went from working constantly and holing up at home when I had time off to having a sleepover with a hockey player.

Stevie said I needed writing inspiration, and this is some top-tier stuff. Maybe after whatever this is with Miller runs its course, I’ll finally have a finished book.

A faint knock at the front door pulls me from my thoughts, and right on cue, my stomach growls because it knows it’s pizza time.

With one last glance at myself, deciding there’s not much else I can do, I take a deep breath and set out to find Miller.