Game For Love: All The Right Moves (Kindle Worlds Novella) (2 page)

The two of them watched as a group of men, full
y dressed in military gear, including rucksacks on their backs and gas masks on their faces, carrying a stretcher with a dummy on it, ran passed them.

Yeah, they needed to shut the hell u
p.

“Beasts,” Ryan called out
, toasting them before throwing back his beer. Turning back to Cole, who had just finished off his, he said, “Still want to complain?”

Cole shook his head and tossed his trash in the large garbage bin.
“Hell, no. Let’s hit the showers.”

The showers consisted of a
roped-off area full of pipes and hoses that the participants used to spray off the mud, sweat, and blood. There was no privacy, and since this was a family-friendly event, they could only strip down to their boxer briefs.

“How’s Anna?” Ryan asked, gingerly rubbing his elbow to break up the dirt that had coated it. Man, that was going to look nasty tomorrow.

Cole grinned, his eyes lighting up like they always did when someone mentioned his wife’s name. “Good.
After you drop me off at the hotel where she’s waiting for me, I’ll be doing even better.”

“Must be nice,” Ryan commented.

“No one waiting for you?”

Ryan thought of Ashley
, of her fiery hair and hot body. If he’d succeeded in asking her out a couple of weeks ago, then maybe she’d be the one waiting for him at his house. “Gunner’s waiting, but his massage skills are pretty much nonexistent.”

Cole laughed, taking the water hose and holding it over his head. More than a few women in the showers with them stopped mid-wash. “Who is she?”

Jesus, when did he become so easy to read? “No one.” He turned off the water, stepping to the side to let another man pass, and then made his way out. Cole followed him.

“You’re so full of shit, Turner,” his buddy called out
, as they got to Ryan’s truck. “You got your fake-out face on.”

“I do not.”
He reached inside the bed and fished out two towels, throwing one at Cole’s face.

With a bark of laughter, Cole caught the towel easily
, drying off while Ryan did the same. “Please. I taught you that face.”

Ryan unlocked his truck and climbed inside, Cole joining him. “You
didn’t teach me shit.”

Cole’s brows rose. “I remember you being the rookie upstart for The Outlaws.
I also remember you puking your guts out right before your first game.”

Ryan grinned,
started up his engine, and then pulled out of the makeshift parking lot. He followed the line of cars to the highway and hit the gas. “Those were the days. Nothing but the expectation to make the owners happy that they drafted me.”

“Not much different from now,”
Cole said, but they both knew better.

Every
year, the players got younger and faster, while every year, Ryan and Cole did the opposite. Only in sports was a man made to feel ancient at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. Though, he had to admit, there were times when a hit from a linebacker built like a tank made him feel more like ninety.

Cole whistled. “Anna just texted me.
The mud run raised over a 100k,
and
she ordered me two of everything on the room service menu.”

With his and Cole’s promise to match whatever was raised, the veterans outreach program would make over 300K.

“Nice. Makes my sore ass worth it.” Ryan slowed his truck down and turned into the hotel’s drive. He stopped right in front of the entrance, putting the engine in park.

“
Just your ass?”

Before Ryan could reply, he got a glimpse of a familiar face. It was Ashley. His heart sped up and before he knew what he was doing, he was already out of the truck and striding up to her. He caught her before she went inside.

“Ryan?” she gasped, her pretty blues widening.

Oh yeah, not only remembered him, but she was happy to see—

“Oh my gosh! Did you get attacked?”

Wait. What? “No.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Then why does it look like you’ve gone two rounds with Holyfield?”

“Because he went fifteen miles to raise money for Victorious Veterans,”
his buddy said, punching Ryan in the shoulder. He let out a grunt, shooting Cole a you’re-so-going-to-pay-for-that look.

“You did?” Ashley
said, her voice full of the familiar awe he’d come to expect from fans. But this time, it made things awkward. He didn’t want her fawning over him over helping the men and women who’d served to protect their country.

It felt wrong. “Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.”

She frowned.

“I mean, the charity is a big deal, just not my part in it,” he added in a rush. That brought back her smile and those killer dimples.

Suddenly, tears filled her eyes and she gave him a big hug, one so tight that her full breasts were flush against his chest. He couldn’t help his body’s reaction—it got all tight and hard at the same time, even as he tried to give her a decent, respectable hug back.

“My brother
, Rhett, lost his leg in Afghanistan, and V-Squared has been helping him with all the VA red tape,” she said softly. “If it wasn’t for those guys, he’d still be waiting to get therapy and a prosthetic. Thank you so, so much.”

As she let go of him and stepped back, he cleared his throat. “It’s the least I could do.”

She beamed at him. “So nice seeing you.” Turning on her heel, she began to walk away.

“You’re losing her,” Cole said, shoving his hand into Ryan’s back.

“Hold up.” Ryan jogged to Ashley. She turned around, her dimples no longer flashing and her eyes wary. What was it about him that made her so skittish? They barely knew each other. Unless… shit. “I’m not that guy.”

“What guy?”

“Typical jock.”

She raked her gaze over him, taking note of the mud-stained clothing and shoes. “I disagree.”

Excellent. “Then go out with me.”

“No.”

“If you do, I’ll donate another 100k to V-Squared, in your brother’s name,” he said, taking a gamble that this was the right move.

Of all the people
Ashley could meet on her way to pick up her best friend’s wedding dress from where the front desk was holding it, Ryan Turner was never in the top ten. Or top one hundred.

But the
re he was, standing in front of her, with puppy dog eyes and an offer she couldn’t refuse. Although she should refuse him, but unlike the egotistical jock she was used to, he offered to make a donation in her brother’s name—not his. So, no extra publicity for this year’s Sexiest Man Alive.

She blew out a breath, and his crooked smile grew bigger, like he just knew she was going to say yes.
Because, she had a hundred thousand reasons to do just that.

“Fine. One date. I’ll meet you at the restaurant of your choice.”

“Two dates, and I pick you up,” he said.

She watched as his friend pumped his fist in the
air, and then walked inside the hotel. Figures, he was in on it. She narrowed her gaze. “Did you really compete in a charity run?”

He held up
two fingers, seemingly amused by her question. “Scout’s honor. Plus, you can look it up on the website. And as Abraham Lincoln said, the internet never lies.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it, because it reminded her so much of the guy she knew from
puppy-parenting classes. “Fine. Two dates it is,” she agreed. “And you can quote me on it.” It wouldn’t be that bad. It
couldn’t
be that bad. Who wouldn’t want a little attention from a guy like Ryan? He was sexy, confident, and supported a charity close to her heart.

He rubbed his hands together. “Give me your number and address.”

“Why?” she asked, immediately wary again.

His dark brow cocked. “Generally
, that’s how this works. I get your number, we flirt over texting, and then when it’s date night, I pick you up.”

“There won’t be any flirting,” she said tightly. But she did dig into her purse and pull out her business card. “You can contact me at this number. I’ll text you my address whenever we decide on a date
for our… er, date.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Her mouth dropped open. That soon? Panicking, she tried to think of an excuse and only came up with the lamest of reasons. “I can’t.”

“You can, and wouldn’t you rather go ahead and get this over with?”

Well, when he put it like that… “You read my mind. Tomorrow night, then.” She shook her card a little, and he took it from her.

Flipping
it over, his eyes scanned the back. “Hmm.”

Hmm? What did that mean? “What time?”

“You pick, firecracker.”

The nerve.
He didn’t know her well enough to give her a nickname. “Seven.”

His gaze sliced to her, all dark brown, like her favorite chocolate. “I’ll pick you up at six fifteen.”

Butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she almost pressed her hand against it. Or maybe they weren’t butterflies. Maybe they were crows, warning her that this was a really bad idea.

“Bluebelle will be happy to see you,” she said.

He laughed. “I think Gunner’s moping over her.”

“Poor doggie,” she said sympathetically. “They should really have a play
date.” Oh, that was
it
. A play date at Beauregard’s Pet Playground would totally satisfy the second date requirement. Then she wouldn’t have to—

“Nope. Doesn’t count,” he said, forestalling any more planning of
dates that wouldn’t actually require them to be alone together. “If you want to get together at Beauregard’s, then Gunner and I will meet y’all. But that’s for
them
, not us.”

There is no us
, she wanted to snap. “Like you’ve just been waiting around, hoping against hope that somehow we would run into each other, like in a romance novel or something.” He gave her a pointed look, and she threw her hands into the air. “I’ll concede the romance novel-like meeting, but there’s no way you’ve been waiting around for me.”

That cocky grin she’d grown to love-hate reappeared on
his face, as he leaned in. “Baby, you have no idea just how
much
worth waiting around for you are.”

She blinked up at him. Her knees
wobbled, and she had to lock them into place to keep from
swooning
. “Yes, well,” she said, all flustered. “See you tomorrow.”

“No good
bye kiss?” he teased.

“Don’t push it, buddy,” she snapped, because kissing him seemed like a good idea. Especially with him so close.

He shouldn’t smell this good after a fifteen-mile workout. He should smell like a wet dog or like stinky butt. He should smell like something other than all masculine-lick-me-up-and-down scent.

Yeah, she really needed to go while the getting was good.

“I’m looking forward to our date, Ashley,” Ryan called out, and she wanted to sink into the floor.

She waved a hand at him, restraining herself from pointing a finger into the air. Besides, her mother would kill her, and someone would get a shot of it on their phone, post it to YouTube, and then where would she be?

If she didn’t like dressing up, then Ashley would have worn a ratty pair of sweats and her oldest
T-shirt for her date with Ryan.

Surprisingly
, he hadn’t texted her but three times. Once, to let her know it was him. The second, to ask for her address. The third, to show what very nice manners he had by thanking her and expressing how much he looked forward to their date.

Bluebelle
sat at her feet, head on her paws, staring up at her while she put on the last of her makeup. As a redhead, she didn’t have but so many choices—it was either screaming harlot or innocent powder puff. She liked neither, and hoped to God she looked confident and—and
pretty
for her date.

Oh, how stupid was that? Who cared if she looked pretty? Ryan had seen her dressed down, dressed sort of up, and then busines
s casual. It didn’t seem he had minded once what she wore to puppy-parenting classes. Why start worrying now?

After smoothing down her blue sundress, she checked the belt to make sure it had gone into every loop.
Fluffing her hair one last time, she made a face at her reflection.

“This will have to do,” she told Bluebelle.

Bluebelle just looked at her, and then huffed before closing her eyes.

“Gee, thanks.”

The doorbell rang, as she made her way to the living room. Her heart sped up, and those crazy butterflies returned. Ryan was here. At her door. Waiting on the other side to take her out and—