Scoring Chance (Carolina Comets)

I’m not sure if it’s the three glasses of champagne that have calmed her nerves, but Scout seems like she’s fitting right in. I’m sure it helps that she’s already familiar with several of my favorite people on the team, most of whom are currently seated around our table.

She’s smiling at the conversation Lowell and Rhodes seem to be stuck in, and I can’t help but watch her watch them.

She wore her hair down tonight, something she doesn’t do very often. I have this weird urge to pull it off her neck and place my lips there instead because seeing her in that dress again is making my head all fuzzy.

Or maybe it’s the vodka I’m drinking.

“No, I’m telling you, Rhodes, it’s not going to happen.”

“Come on. Then we can tell people we both got married in Vegas.”

“We’re not even engaged!” Lowell cries out.

“Then propose, moron!” Rhodes argues back.

“Uh, hi,” Hollis says, poking her head around her boyfriend. “Do I get a say in this?”

“No,” both guys say in unison.

“If it’s any consolation, I vote Vegas too,” I chime in. “Who doesn’t want to get married by Elvis?”

“See!” Rhodes points at me. “For once, I agree with the kid.”

“I think you should have a wedding in October,” Harper, Wright’s wife, says to her sister. “Then you could use pretty pumpkins as décor.”

“Again, we’re not even engaged. We haven’t even talked about marriage.” The captain sounds like he’s had this exact conversation a thousand times already.

“What? My sister-in-law is good enough for you to impregnate but not marry?” Wright challenges Lowell with a lifted brow.

“Yeah!” Harper nods. “You knock my sister up, then what? Be her boyfriend forever?”

“No!” He shoves out of his chair. “I’m getting a drink.”

He stomps off, and everyone at the table laughs. We all know Lowell and Hollis aren’t ready to walk down the aisle, but it doesn’t mean we can’t tease them about it.

“You guys are so mean getting him all wound up,” Hollis declares in defense of her boyfriend.

“Yeah, but he plays better when he’s mad, and we could really use a win on Monday to kick off the preseason.”

She shakes her head, but I’m sure she knows Rhodes is right on the money.

“I’m not looking forward to being the only one on diaper duty,” Hollis remarks, talking about her adorable new baby.

“We’ll help you, you know that,” Harper says, nodding toward Ryan.

“I’ll help too,” Scout says quietly from beside me. “I mean, if you need it, of course.” She dips down in her seat when everyone stares at her. “I have some experience with kids. I helped raise my niece.”

“Did you really?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah.” She nods. “Macie’s father is…well, he’s not in the picture.” I can see a cloud of darkness fall over her face. I’m sure there’s a story there regarding Macie’s dad, but I know now isn’t the place to ask for details, not that I’m owed any. “It’s just been me, Stevie, and Macie since the day she was brought home from the hospital.”

“Gah! Babies are so cute when they’re all tiny and squishy,” Ryan says fondly. “You just want to boop their little noses.”

“Agreed.”

“You like kids?” Now it’s Scout’s turn to be surprised.

I’m one of those weird guys who wants a big family and loves children. I know what an empty home feels like. I don’t want that for my future.

I’m about to answer when Harper cuts in.

“They look like aliens. Someone send Sigourney Weaver to kick some ass, because ew.” She wrinkles her nose.

Greer points at her. “I’m with this one. Babies and kids are gross.”

“Macie thinks you’re gross,” Scout says to him, a tipsy laugh bubbling out of her. “She calls you the jackass.”

Greer’s face turns sour, but everyone else laughs.

“Smart kid,” Smith remarks.

“She calls you the old man.”

“Hey, that’s what we call him too,” Wright says, earning himself a hard glare from said old man.

“I might be old, but I can still whoop your ass.”

“Please. Like I’m scared of you.” Wright rolls his eyes just as Smith reaches out and whacks him across the back of his head. For once, I’m not the guy getting hit, and it feels nice not to be picked on.

“Hey! Be nice, or I’ll tell Coach,” Wright threatens.

“Real mature, honey.” Harper pats her husband’s cheek.

“I’m mature,” he mutters, which doesn’t sound mature at all. “Whatever. I’m getting a drink.” He rises from his chair.

“Do they have beer at this thing? I can’t take any more of this champagne,” Rhodes gripes, following behind Wright.

Their wives exchange glances and then go after them.

“So, when did this thing happen between you two?” asks Emilia, the team’s social media director and Smith’s girlfriend.

Scout gestures from herself to me. “Us?” Emilia nods, and my date barks out a laugh. “No. We’re not… No.”

It’s not her words that sting, because they’re not wrong; it’s her laugh—almost like she couldn’t fathom dating me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Do I want her to want to date me? Or am I just spending so much time with her lately that she’s in my head?

“That’s right,” I say. “We’re not together.”

“No?” Greer asks from across the table, rolling the bottom of his cup around in circles over the table. “Hm.”

I scowl, not liking the sound that just came out of him.

“In that case,” he says loudly, rising to his feet. He extends his hand across the table…right to Scout. “May I have this dance?”

“You dance?” She stares at his outstretched hand.

“I took ballroom lessons for my mother’s third wedding.”

She glances at his hand again, then at him, and back at his hand. Finally, she shrugs. “Why not? Just nobody tell my niece I danced with the jackass.”

Greer smirks at her. “It’ll be our little secret.”

I hate his smirk, and I hate the way Scout smirks back.

I really hate that they have a secret.

Greer pulls Scout out onto the dance floor and tugs her so close her body is snug against his. I know for a fact it’s not ballroom etiquette because I took ballroom lessons too.

He nuzzles her neck, whispering something into her ear while his fingertips play along the cutout in the back of her dress. Scout throws her head back, laughing at something Greer says.

They look good together. Scout looks happy.

I should be happy she’s having a good time, should be glad tonight isn’t a complete disaster for her.

But I’m not happy because seeing Scout in Greer’s arms is making my blood boil. I hate it more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.

And I hate that I’m not sure what the hell that’s supposed to mean.

“Dude, Miller…” Smith says, and I feel his hand clamp over my own.

I look down and see that my knuckles are turning white against the glass of vodka I’ve been sipping for the last two hours.

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?” Emilia asks.

I hesitate only a moment before nodding my head. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“But…”

I swallow, not answering because, from the knowing smile on her face, I’m not so sure I need to.

There isn’t anything going on with us.

But I…I think I want there to be.

“Want my advice, kid? Talk to her. Tell her how you feel,” Smith says, reading my mind. He looks over at his girlfriend. “It’s something I wish I had done a hell of a lot sooner.”

I’m out of my seat before I can realize what I’m doing.

I’m crossing the dance floor.

I’m shoving Greer out of the way, and I’m taking his spot.

Distantly, I hear him laugh, but I don’t pay him any attention.

All I can focus on is Scout, who is staring up at me with wide eyes as I pull her against me—breaking all ballroom rules myself. She lets out a tiny squeak but doesn’t protest the interruption.

I like that she doesn’t.

We glide across the floor, not missing a single step, moving in perfect sync with one another.

“This is unexpected,” she murmurs quietly.

“I took lessons, too.”

She tries to hide her smile, but I see it anyway.

I know how ridiculous I sound, how petty, how childish. But dammit, I don’t want Greer to dance with Scout. I don’t want him to flirt with her. I don’t want him to know what she feels like in his arms because I want all those things.

I want Scout.

I…

“Date me.”

She rears her head back, completely caught off guard by my words.

The feeling is mutual because I can’t believe I just said them.

“What?”

“Date me,” I repeat. “I mean…” I clear my throat. “Would you like to go on a date? With me, I mean.”

We’ve stopped moving. I’m not sure when that happened, but we have. Now we’re just standing here staring at one another.

And it’s fucking unbearable. With every second that ticks by, I feel more and more like a total moron.

Date me? Really? Fuck, it’s no wonder I’m still a virgin with dating skills like this.

I should take it back, should tell her to forget it…but I don’t want to do either of those things.

I have to say something, though, because this is doing nothing short of killing me.

“Scout, I—”

“Okay,” she says, and the words die on my tongue.

Now it’s me who leans back, surprised. “O…kay?” I draw the word out, making sure she said what I think she did.

She nods. “Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”

“I…” I swallow down the excitement. “Okay. We’re going on a date.”

“Yep.”

“It’s going to be a good date,” I tell her, pulling her back in.

“Okay.”

We begin slowly moving to the music. “The best first date you’ve ever been on.”

“That so?”

“Yep. It’s going to—”

“Miller?” she interrupts.

“Hm?”

“Don’t make me regret this already.”

I laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

I firmly believe the only reason Scout is allowing me to drive her home is that she’s still a little tipsy from the champagne.

Well, that and I only booked the limo service for one way, so it was either me or an Uber.

She chose me.

“This is my place.” She points up at the apartment building in front of us.

I can see under the yellow streetlights that it’s a little run down, but it’s not as if I was expecting to drop her off at a mansion or anything.

“It’s not much,” she says like she knows what I’m thinking. “But it’s home.” She fidgets with the small wristlet purse she brought. “I, uh, live with Stevie.”

“You live with your sister?” She winces. “Are you embarrassed by that? Because you don’t have to be. The first year I was with the Comets, I lived with my coach. Now that’s embarrassing. Talk about awkward when you have to masturbate.” Oh fuck. “I mean, not that I masturbate. I—”

She throws her head back and laughs, and it reminds me of earlier when Greer made her do the same thing.

“What did Greer say to make you laugh earlier?”

She looks surprised by the sudden change of subject. “Huh?”

I don’t know why I care. I shouldn’t care, but I do.

“Earlier, when you were dancing with Greer, you laughed like that. What did he say to make you laugh so hard?”

The streetlights are just bright enough that I can still see the red that colors her cheeks.

“He, um, he told me to do that.”

My brows squish together. “Huh?”

“He told me to laugh like he just told me something funny because he wanted to test something.”

“He wanted to…” Holy shit. I shake my head. “That asshole. He was testing me, wasn’t he?”

She nods. “Afraid so.”

“And it worked.”

“It did, but…” She lets out a heavy breath, and I brace myself for her to tell me she’s taking back agreeing to a date, it’s a mistake, and she doesn’t want to ruin our—reluctant on her part—friendship or something. “I’vehadacrushonyouforawhile.”

It comes out in one big, long word, and I’m certain she didn’t just say what I think she did.

“What?”

She groans, cradling her face in her hands, then realizes a few moments too late that she’s wearing makeup and that’s probably not a good idea. She sinks down into her seat and takes another fortifying breath.

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while. So, I wasn’t really mad about it.”

My brows shoot up. “You’ve been crushing on me?”

The red on her cheeks deepens as she nods. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since you’ve been coming to the truck.”

Oh fuck. That makes me feel kind of awful.

I’ve seen Scout at the truck so many times over the years, but I never really saw her until recently, and I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on.

“I never knew,” I say quietly.

“I know.” She tucks her lips together like she’s hurt by this, but also maybe not surprised. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. The guys on the team are right—I am a fucking idiot.”

Her brows furrow. “Stop saying that. You’re not an idiot. You’re not stupid. You’re just…well, you’re Miller.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. I happen to like Miller.”

“As a friend?”

“Or more.” She blushes again, then clears her throat. “Anyway, this is me.”

I laugh. “Yeah, you said that.” I point at her. “Wait here.”

She giggles but remains in the car while I hop out. I jog over to her side and pull her door open, bending at the waist in a dramatic fashion.

She laughs again, and I swear I love the sound of it more every time I hear it.

She slips her hand into mine, allowing me to help her from the vehicle.

“Come on. I’ll walk you up.”

“You don’t—oh, okay,” she says when she sees the look I’m sending her, daring her to keep challenging me.

Unsure of where to go exactly, I let her lead the way, but I keep my hand on her lower back the entire way because I can’t seem to stop touching her.

My fingers rest against exposed skin. It’s warm and soft, and I want to touch more of her.

But I’m getting way ahead of myself.

We stop in front of a door that has a Carolina Comets-themed wreath on it, and I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sure it’s just because Macie is a big fan, but I’m going to pretend it was you who picked that out so you could support your best friend.”

“Best friend, huh?” Her lips pull into a half-smile. “Wow, we’re moving fast.”

“It’s because you can’t get enough of me, always wanting me to be around.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to help you sleep at night.”

“Oh, I don’t need to tell myself anything. I sleep just fine knowing how obsessed with me you are, Miss Crushing on Me for Months over here.”

“You know, the more you talk, the more I’m really starting to doubt my sanity.”

“Nah. You like me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Despite your inability to get over yourself, I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Yeah?” She nods. “Good. I did too. Especially the part where you agreed to a date with me.”

She groans. “Ugh. I did, huh?”

“Yep, and I’m holding you to it—though it may not be until I get back from these two preseason games…”

“That’s fine. I’m sure I’m going to need time to prepare myself for it.”

“I promise to make it not suck.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that.” She grabs hold of the door handle. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime.”

She doesn’t move. Neither do I.

We stand there in silence for several seconds, letting the cool, September night air settle between us.

“I…um…good night,” she says.

“Good night.”

She laughs, dropping her eyes to where our fingers are still laced. “I kind of need my hand back, Miller.”

“Right. But here’s the thing—I kind of don’t want to let go.”

“Kind of?”

“More than kind of. I definitely don’t want to let go.”

I don’t want to let go because I’m scared if I do, she’s going to come to her senses and tell me the date is off, and I really don’t want that.

I like Scout. I like her a lot.

“But…” I draw the word out. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you,” she says, but it seems like she doesn’t want to let me go either because I swear this is the slowest anyone has ever stopped touching someone else.

When we finally let go, it feels weird, like I’m missing something vital. I’ve never felt that before.

“Good night.”

“You said that already.”

“Well, this time I mean it.” She spins around, digging into her purse for her key like she’s trying to prove a point.

I can’t help but laugh.

She glares over her shoulder at me.

I laugh harder.

“Stop it, Miller. I’ll take our date back.”

I gasp dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” She finally retrieves her keys and inserts one into the lock.

“Hey, Scout?”

She sighs loudly, turning my way. “Yes?”

I take a step closer, closing the short distance between us. She gasps softly at my sudden movements but doesn’t shift back.

I swallow the knot lodged in my throat as she stares up at me, waiting.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you before, but I see you now.”

Her mouth floats open. Then closes.

Opens again.

Then, I swear she mutters, “Oh, what the hell?”

And her mouth crashes to mine.

I slide my hands over her waist, tugging her closer as she grabs my lapels and does the same. Her back hits the door with a loud thud that will likely wake a sleeping Stevie, but I don’t care.

I don’t care because I’m kissing her. I’m kissing her, and all I can think is She tastes as sweet as she smells.

It’s stupid and absurd, but it’s exactly what I imagined her lips would taste like.

And I need more.

I run my tongue along her bottom lip. She lets me in, letting out a soft moan when our tongues slide together.

I’ve kissed many women before, but not even one of those kisses has ever come close to comparing to this. It’s soft and unhurried, like we’re both afraid to move too fast because then we know it will be over.

I have no idea how long we kiss, how long our bodies are pressed together in the dimly lit hallway, how long we stand there holding on to one another when our mouths finally drift apart. We’re a mess of heavy breaths, and I can feel her shiver beneath my fingertips.

I should go. I know I should. I just can’t bring myself to move my feet.

I’m not sure how much longer I stand there, but it’s long enough to hear her teeth chattering, and I know then that I’ve overstayed my welcome.

So, with reluctance, I place one last kiss on her forehead and whisper, “Good night, Scout.”

“Good night…Grady.”

I swear, I’ve never loved my name more.