Scoring Chance (Carolina Comets)

I’ve come to a definitive conclusion: I am in love with Scout Thomas.

At first, I thought maybe my feelings for her were just clouded by a haze of incredible sex, and perhaps I was getting ahead of myself, but that’s not the case at all.

Not by a long shot.

Yesterday when we were at the truck saying goodbye, I just looked at her and knew I wasn’t going crazy, knew I wasn’t jumping too far ahead. Sure, I’ve only really known her since this summer, but that’s just it—I know Scout. And she knows me.

I know that I’m in love with her.

And I plan to tell her tonight…if I can figure out how.

Which is precisely why I’m standing outside her door, trying to convince myself to knock. I haven’t ever felt this damn nervous in my life. Hell, not even the Stanley Cup Final was this nerve-wracking.

Blowing out a steadying breath, I rap my knuckles against the door and wait.

Roughly four seconds later, the door creaks open, and Scout’s face fills the gap.

“You made it!” she says as she pulls the door open all the way. “You’re early too.”

“Yeah, we got done with videos early, so I figured I’d just head this way. I…” My words trail off as I get a look at what she’s wearing.

Her hair is wrapped in a towel, and she’s wearing a pair of shorts and a sports bra.

“Woman…” I growl, rushing into the apartment and closing the door behind me. “What the hell are you doing opening the door like that?”

She rolls her eyes, pulling the towel off her head and wringing her hair out into it. “Relax. People wear these things to the gym all the time.”

Well, she has me there, but I still don’t like it.

“I told you!” Stevie calls.

“Yes, and I ignored you,” Scout yells at her sister. She turns back to me with a grin. “Hi.” She kisses my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

“Hey, Grady,” Stevie says from the island in the kitchen as we make our way farther into the apartment. “Please ignore the mess. People live here.”

I laugh. “It’s fine. I don’t mind one bit.” I hand over the bouquet of flowers I’m holding. “These are for you ladies.”

“Shut up!” she says, taking them from me. “This is really sweet of you. I’ll grab a vase. I hope I don’t kill them before dinner with Dad, because they’d make a great centerpiece.”

I make a mental note to buy another bouquet for the dinner I’ve been invited to next week just in case.

Stevie hops down off the stool and retrieves a vase from a cabinet, getting to work arranging them.

I peek around the apartment that I’m pretty sure could fit into my living room and kitchen. The building it’s in is older, but the apartment looks newly renovated with sleek hardwood floors and granite countertops. It’s nice.

Stevie isn’t lying—people do live in it, and that’s obvious from all the knickknacks lying around and the backpack slung across the floor. It looks like a home, unlike my apartment, which sometimes feels like a museum. I don’t spend much time there, especially during the season, so it’s hard to even get it messy, but still. I much prefer this cozy space to the one I have.

With my schedule and Scout’s, it’s always easier to spend time at my apartment than here so we don’t disturb Stevie or Macie. This is the first time everything worked out where we can be at her place, and I already don’t want to leave.

It’s just a bonus that tonight is the famous mac and cheese night I’ve heard so much about.

“Dinner smells great,” I tell Macie, who is standing on a small stepstool at the stove, stirring the noodles. “What’s the secret ingredient today?”

“It’s hot dogs and baked beans!”

I want to curl my lips up, but at the last second, I remember I’m talking to a nine-year-old who sounds more excited than I’ve ever been about anything before, so I force a smile.

“It sounds…great.”

“It actually is,” Scout says quietly from beside me. “At first, I had the same thought you’re having right now, but it was actually way better than I thought it would be.”

“Guess you’re getting another of my firsts,” I say to her, winking.

She giggles, then grabs my hand. “Let me show you my room while I finish getting dressed.”

I follow her through the apartment, and the minute she tugs me into her room and slams the door shut behind her, I’m on her. I cage her in from behind, pressing up against the door. I slip my hand around her throat, arching her head back as my lips find her earlobe. I bite down, and she lets out a gasp.

“You look fucking edible,” I tell her quietly. A moan slips free when I nibble my way from that spot below her ear she loves to her shoulder. “You’re killing me in this.”

There’s no way she doesn’t feel that I mean it. My cock is straining so fucking hard against my jeans, and I have half a mind to rip this skimpy outfit from her body and fuck her until she’s screaming my name just for being a little tease.

But I can’t. We’re not alone.

Instead, I do a little teasing of my own, slipping my hand around her and cupping her through the skintight cotton shorts, pressing my thumb against her clit.

“What I wouldn’t give to taste this pretty cunt of yours right now…”

“Grady…” she whines. “Please.”

The single word has me spinning her around and dropping to my knees in front of her, tugging her shorts down along the way. I don’t waste a single second, shoving my tongue between her legs for a quick taste.

Fuck, she’s sweet. The greatest thing I’ve ever had. I could do this forever. Could spend an eternity tasting her and making her scream.

But right now, as badly as I want to, I can’t.

I pull away, tugging her shorts back up and pressing a quick kiss to her lips before putting two feet of distance between us.

It takes her a second to realize what’s happening—or more accurately, what isn’t happening.

When she peels her eyes open, there’s no mistaking the fire in her eyes. She’s annoyed she’s been played.

“You’re the worst,” she seethes.

“What’d I do?”

She glowers, brushing past me and marching to her closet. She yanks a shirt off the hanger and puts it on angrily.

I laugh the whole time as she stomps out of her room and back toward the bathroom, all while pushing my hard cock down because she’s not the only one who wishes we were alone right now.

I take a real look at her bedroom for the first time and, right away, I notice there are books everywhere. They’re on the shelves that line the walls, and there are literal stacks of them on the floor. It’s already a small space, so all the books in here make it feel even smaller, but it doesn’t matter because it just screams Scout.

I love it. I love her.

I continue my perusal. There are a few pictures on the wall. Two older men—one I recognize as her dad and the other I assume is Pops—are in one photo with their arms slung around her. She’s wearing a cap and gown; it must be her graduation. There are several of her and Macie and Stevie, plus a few of her with people I don’t recognize but am going to assume are authors based on the backgrounds.

I scan the spines of the many books that fill the shelves. Most of them sound like romance titles, but a few are something entirely different, making me wonder if they’re hers too or someone else’s.

When I accidentally bump into the small writing desk in the corner, her open laptop comes to life, and a Word document is pulled up on the screen.

I shouldn’t look.

I know that.

But I can’t help the few words that catch my eye.

Hockey.

Virgin.

What the hell…

I lay my fingers on the mouse and scroll.

There are at least a hundred and fifty pages, and so many familiar things stick out to me as I fly through the document to get to the beginning.

Once I do, I freeze.

Pucked by the Virgin [Working Title] by Scout Thomas

I begin to read, and as the pages go on, there’s one thing that’s abundantly clear: This book is about us.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I jump, slamming the laptop shut and spinning around to find a very angry Scout standing in the doorway. She flies into the room and right past me, scooping up her computer and hugging it close to her chest.

“This is private, Miller! You had no right!” Her cheeks are red, and her eyes are glowing with rage.

Something I find very funny considering what I was just reading on her laptop. It sounded like a fanfiction about her scoring with the virgin of an NHL team.

Only it’s not a fanfiction because it happened.

What the hell is happening?

“I’m sorry, but I had no right?” I ask, pointing to myself. “You wrote a fucking book about me, Scout. About us.”

“It’s not about us.”

“Really? Because it sure as shit looked like it to me.”

“Who cares if it is?” She laughs derisively. “This whole thing was just an experiment for you anyway. You wanted to lose your virginity, so you picked the easy target, the girl who was crushing on you and wouldn’t turn you down. This isn’t going to last, and you know it.”

My jaw slackens, and everything inside of me aches to the bone. “Is…is that what you think about us?”

She tips her chin up but doesn’t say anything.

The longer we stand here, the angrier I become.

“Has this all just been a game to you? Has everything we’ve been doing over the last few months just been research for your book? Using me? Like my fucking parents did?”

There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes at my accusations, but she still doesn’t say anything.

My chest feels like there’s an elephant standing on it, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.

I opened up to her as I’d never done before. I told her things nobody else knows about me…about my family.

I thought this was going to last.

There’s a knock on the door that drags our attention.

“Uh, hey,” Stevie says, pushing it open. “We can hear you, FYI.”

She looks between us, then stares at Scout for a long, long time. I’ve seen that look before from my parents—it’s disappointment.

With one last glance my way, Stevie pulls the door shut.

I look back over at Scout, but she’s not looking at me. She’s staring down at the computer tucked tightly to her chest.

I don’t like it. I don’t like that she’s not seeing how fucking hurt I am right now because I’m really hurt. This wasn’t what I was expecting from her. I know she’s been guarded with me, know she’s been hurt in the past, but this? This isn’t what I thought would come of this.

I step toward her, and only then does she finally look up.

“I have news for you, Scout.” Her hazel eyes meet mine as she bites down on her bottom lip. “This wasn’t a game to me. This wasn’t about losing my virginity. This was real for me. I trusted you. I fell for you.” I swallow hard, cupping the back of my neck and squeezing because that damn tension is back. “I fucking fell for you. I…I love you, but all I am to you is a plot point.”

Her jaw drops, but nothing comes out.

She doesn’t refute my words. She doesn’t tell me I’m wrong. She just stands there in silence, and I swear it hurts worse than taking one of Wright’s slapshots to the boot.

I have no clue how long we stand there, how long she stares at me wide-eyed, how long she keeps not saying a word…

But it’s long enough for me to know one thing—I’m right, and I’ve never hated it more.