The Deal (Off-Campus Book 1)

I’m grinning like the town idiot. And now is not the time to be grinning like the town idiot, not when I’m buck naked in a room full of showering dudes and my girlfriend is glaring daggers at me. But I’m so happy to see her that I can’t control my facial muscles.

My eyes eat up the sight of her. Her gorgeous face. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail with a pink hair thingie. Infuriated green eyes.

She’s so damn hot when she’s mad at me.

“It’s nice to see you too, baby,” I answer cheerfully. “How was your break?”

“Don’t you baby me. And don’t ask about my break because you don’t deserve to know about it!” Hannah glowers at me, then shifts her attention to the three hockey players in the neighboring stalls. “For the love of Pete, would you guys just rinse off and skedaddle already? I’m trying to yell at your captain.”

I choke back a laugh, which ends up spilling out when my teammates snap to attention like they’ve been issued a command by a drill sergeant. Showers turn off and towels come out, and a moment later, Hannah and I are alone.

I shut off the faucet and turn around. The shower door does a good job of hiding my downstairs area, but all Hannah has to do is peek over and she’ll get an eyeful of my quickly hardening dick, who is unbelievably happy to see her.

But she doesn’t sneak a peek. She simply keeps glaring at me. “You invoked a campus-wide hands-off law? Are you kidding me?”

I’m not at all remorseful as I meet her eyes. “Of course I did.”

“Oh my God. You are unbelievable.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Who does that, Garrett? You can’t just go around and tell all the guys at this school that they’re not allowed to touch me or you’ll kick their asses!”

“I didn’t tell all the guys. Do I look like I have that kind of time?” I flash a grin. “I told a few key people and made sure they spread the word.”

“What, if you can’t have me no one else can?” she says darkly.

I snicker. “Well, that’s just insane. I’m not a psycho, babe. I was doing it for your sake.”

Her jaw drops. “How the hell do you figure that?”

“Because you’re in love with me, and you don’t want to date anyone else. But see, I was afraid your stubborn self would try to do it just to back up your cover story, so I had to take some preventative measures.” I prop my forearms on the stall door. “I knew if you went out with anyone else you’d end up regretting it, and then you’d feel like an ass when you finally came to your senses, and, well, I wanted to spare you all that pain and suffering. You’re welcome.”

She looks stunned for a moment.

Then she starts to laugh.

Jesus, I’ve missed the sound of her laughter. I’m tempted to hop over the little door and kiss the crap out of her, but I don’t get the chance.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Hannah jumps in surprise when Coach Jensen appears in the shower area.

“Oh, hey, Coach,” I call out. “Not what it looks like.”

His dark brows knit in a displeased frown. “It looks like you’re taking a shower in front of your girlfriend. In my locker room.”

“Okay, then yeah, it’s what it looks like. But I promise, it’s all very PG. Well, except for the fact that I’m naked. But don’t worry, no kinky shit is going to happen.” I grin at him. “I’m trying to win her back.”

Coach’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. I can’t tell if he’s amused or pissed or ready to wash his hands of this whole thing. Finally, he nods and opts for option number three. “Carry on.”

Coach shakes his head to himself as he ambles off, and I turn back to Hannah in time to see her trying to sneak away.

“Oh, hell no,” I announce. “No way, Wellsy.” I snatch my towel and wrap it around my waist as I stumble out of the stall. “You’re not running off on me.”

“I came here to yell at you,” she stammers, her gaze dipping to her feet. “And now I’m done yelling at you, so…”

She yelps when my wet hands cup her cheeks to force her to look at me. “Great, you’re done yelling. Now I want you to talk to me, and you’re not leaving until you do.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Tough cookies.” I search her agonized expression. “Why did you break up with me?”

“I already told you—”

“I know what you told me. I didn’t believe you then and I don’t believe you now.” I set my jaw. “Why did you break up with me?”

A shaky breath leaves her mouth. “Because we were moving too fast.”

“Bullshit. Why did you break up with me?”

“Because I wanted to see other people.”

“Try again. Why did you break up with me?”

When she doesn’t answer, frustration blasts through me, and I react by crashing my mouth down on hers. I kiss her roughly, desperately, the days and weeks of missing her catching up to me and pouring out in the form of deep, hungry kisses that leave us both breathless. She doesn’t pull away. She just kisses me back with the same unchecked passion, her hands clinging to my wet shoulders like she’s lost at sea and I’m her life preserver.

That’s how I know she still loves me. That’s how I know she missed me as much as I missed her. And that’s why I wrench my mouth away and whisper, “Why did you break up with me?”

Her anguished gaze locks with mine. Her bottom lip quivers, and as several seconds tick by, I wonder if she’s going to answer me. I wonder if—

“Because your father told me to.”

The shock almost knocks me off my feet. As my equilibrium turns into a seesaw, I drop my hands to my sides and stare at her, unable to comprehend what I just heard.

I swallow. Then I swallow again. “What?”

“Your father told me to end it,” she admits. “He said that if I didn’t, he’d—”

I hold up my hand to silence her. I’m too stunned to listen. Too enraged to move. I force myself to breathe. Long, calming breaths that help steady my wonky balance and clear my foggy head. Then I exhale in a slow rush and run a hand through my damp hair.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I say quietly. “You’re going to wait outside for me while I get dressed, and then you and I are going to—I don’t care where we go. Your dorm, my car, anywhere. We’re going to go somewhere, and you’re going to tell me every word that son of a bitch said to you.” I take another breath. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

HANNAH

Garrett doesn’t say a word as I recount everything that happened between his father and me. We’re in my room because the arena is closer to the dorms than it is to Garrett’s house, and he was in too much of a hurry to have this conversation. But all he’s done so far is loom over me with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, listening intently as my confession spills out of my mouth like confetti.

I can’t stop talking. I recite his dad’s threats verbatim. I explain why I went along with them. I beg him to understand that I did it because I love him and want him to be successful.

And through it all, Garrett says nothing. He doesn’t even blink.

“Will you please say something?” I mumble when I’ve finished talking and he still hasn’t said a word.

His gray eyes fix on my face. I can’t tell if he’s angry or annoyed, if he’s disappointed or upset. All those emotions would make sense to me.

But the response I get?

Makes no sense at all.

Garrett starts to laugh. Deep, husky rumbles that bring a frown to my lips. His brow relaxes and his arms fall to his sides as he sinks down on the bed beside me, his broad shoulders trembling with mirth.

“You think this is funny?” I demand, genuinely offended. I’ve been a total misery zombie this past month, and he finds it amusing?

“No, I think it’s a damn shame,” he says between chuckles.

“What’s a shame?”

“This.” He gestures between us. “You and me. The whole fucking month we missed out on.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

My throat closes up. “Because I knew what you would say.”

Another chuckle pops out of his mouth. “I highly doubt that, but okay, humor me. What would I have said?”

I don’t understand his weird-ass reaction, and it’s making me uneasy. “You would have told me that you didn’t care if your father cut you off, because you’re not going to let him control you, or us.”

Garrett nods. “Yup, you’re on track so far. What else?”

“Then you would have said you care about me more than you care about his stupid money.”

“Yup.”

“And you would have let him cut you off.”

“Right again.”

My stomach lurches. “He said you aren’t eligible for financial aid, and that you wouldn’t be able to get a bank loan.”

Garrett nods again. “Both true.”

“You would have had to clean out your savings account to pay for next term’s tuition, and…and then what? We both know you can’t afford rent and expenses and car payments when you’re not working, so that means you would need to get a job and—”

“I’m gonna stop you there, baby.” The smile he gives me is infinitely tender. “So…let’s back up. I let my father cut me off. Ask me what I would’ve said next.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. A little too hard, so I soothe the sting with my tongue. “What?”

Garrett leans closer and sweeps his fingertips over my cheek. “I would’ve said, Don’t worry, babe, I’m turning twenty-one in a few weeks, and my grandparents left me a trust fund that I can access on January 2nd.”

I suck in a shocked breath. “Wait—what?”

He lightly pinches my bottom lip, shaking his head in frustration. “My grandparents left me an inheritance, Hannah. My dad didn’t know about it because my mom signed all the papers behind his back. Gran and Gramps hated the old bastard—they really fucking hated him—and they saw how controlling he was when it came to me and hockey. They were afraid he might try to access the trust and do whatever he wanted with the funds, so they made sure I was taken care of. They left me enough money to pay my father back for everything he’s ever paid for. Enough to pay for the rest of my education, and all my expenses, and probably enough to sustain me for a few years once I graduate.”

My mind reels. I’m having trouble processing the information. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms.

As the significance of what he’s just told me sinks in, I experience a flood of pure horror. Sweet baby Jesus. Is he telling me I broke up with him for no reason?

Garrett sees my expression and chuckles. “I bet you feel pretty stupid, huh?”

My mouth falls open, but I can’t formulate any words. I can’t believe… I’m so… God, he’s right. I’m so fucking stupid.

“I was trying to do the right thing.” I moan miserably. “I know how important hockey is to you. I didn’t want you to lose that.”

He sighs again. “I know, and trust me, that’s the only reason I’m not pissed off at you right now. I mean, I’m annoyed to shit that you didn’t just talk to me about it, but I understand why you didn’t.” His eyes flash. “That asshole had no right to do that. I swear, I’m going to—” He stops and puffs out a breath. “Actually, I’m going to do absolutely nothing. Not worth my time and energy, remember?”

“Does he know about the trust fund now?”

A triumphant gleam enters his eyes. “Oh, he knows. My grandparents’ executor couriered him a check yesterday. I estimated what I owed him and threw some extra cash on top of it, and he called last night and yelled at me for about twenty minutes before I hung up on him.” Garrett’s tone goes serious. “Oh, and there’s something else you should know—Cindy dumped his ass.”

Shock and relief war inside me. “Really?”

“Yup. Apparently she packed her bags a week after Thanksgiving and never looked back. That was another reason he was so pissed off on the phone. He thinks we said something to make her leave.” Garrett’s cheeks hollow in anger. “Son of a bitch still can’t take responsibility for anything he does. He can’t fathom how it might be his fault that she left.”

My head continues to spin. I’m happy Cindy extricated herself from that abusive relationship, but I’m not happy about the month Garrett and I were apart. I’m not happy that I allowed Phil Graham to scare me into giving up the guy I love.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I’m so sorry, Garrett. For everything.”

He reaches for my hand. “Yeah, me too.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who tried to be all heroic and broke up with you for your own good.” I groan. “God, I can’t even be selfless without screwing it up.”

He snickers. “It’s okay. At least you’re hot. And don’t get me started on your stripper tits.”

I squeak when he suddenly cups my breasts over my sweater and gives them a hearty squeeze.

He makes a contented little noise as he rubs his palms over my quickly hardening nipples. “Oh, I’ve missed these. You don’t know how fucking much.”

A laugh flies out. “Seriously? You’re going straight to second base when we haven’t even officially gotten back together?”

His lips latch onto my neck, and his tongue darts out for a teasing lick. “As far as I’m concerned, we were never broken up.” Then he nibbles on my earlobe, eliciting a flurry of shivers. “So the way I see it, we could hug and kiss and cry, which will take about, what, twenty minutes? And then twenty more minutes where I forgive you and you vow your undying love to me. Maybe ten minutes of you giving me head to make up for all the time we’ve lost—”

I punch him in the arm.

“But what’s the point of wasting more time when we can get right to the good part?”

My lips quiver in amusement. “And what exactly is the good part?”

Before I can blink, I’m on my back with the deliciously heavy weight of Garrett’s body on top of me. He flashes his trademark grin, that sexy crooked smile that never fails to make my heart pound, and then his mouth covers mine in a hungry kiss.

“This—” He sucks on my lower lip and rotates his hips seductively “—is the good part.”

I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight against me, and it’s so familiar, so wonderfully perfect, that the love in my heart overflows and stings my eyes. “I love you, Garrett,” I choke out.

His husky voice tickles my lips. “I love you, Hannah.”

Then he kisses me, and everything in my world is right again.