Sugar Rush (Offensive Line #1) (6 page)

Under thirty seconds in the room and Colt has every girl sitting pretty in the palm of his hand.

“What are you doing here?” I ask bluntly.

Rona looks at me with big eyes, silently begging me to chill.

I ignore her. I can’t chill. This guy is an electrical wire to my body, destroying my regular functions. I’m still stunned by the fact that he’s here.

“I, uh,” he laughs at himself softly, dipping his chin. The gesture is so adorable I can taste the estrogen spike in the room. “I’m a little addicted to those Oreos you made. The chocolate coated ones. I smuggled out a few handfuls from the party yesterday but I ate the last one this morning and I can’t get them out of my head.”

“We don’t keep those in stock. We made them for the party. Sorry,” I apologize, the sentiment feeling obligatory.

I’m not sorry. I’m confused. And torn. And turned on? And mad, but at what or who I don’t know. Me? Him? Harrison Ford?

Be real; Crystal Skull was shit. We’re all a little mad about it. All day, every day.

The problem is that the longer I look at him, the longer
he
stands there looking at
me
, the more convinced I am that the cookies aren’t all he came here for. It’s me. He wanted to see me, and as the realization hits home, a very girlish, giddy part of me wants to rise up to meet him, elated and flattered to find him here looking for me.

The rest of me, though, it sees what’s happening. It can feel the storm coming. It can read the danger written in the perfect plains of his face.

His smiles are clouds on my horizon.

His voice thunder rumbling in the distance.

COLT

She’s annoyed. Or hungry. Or hangry. Horny? It’s hard to tell.

I don’t know what kind of greeting I expected to get ambushing her like this, but when I see her standing there with her eyes like a half-cocked revolver directed right at me, I think this is it. This is what I wanted. Her frost. Her cold shoulder. It’s hotter than the open flame in the makeup chick’s eyes. This look from Lilly is a myriad of things that clash and war with each other across her face – shock, excitement, irritation, joy – and it’s so genuine I can hardly stand it.

Lilly watches me carefully. Cautiously. Like she’s afraid of what I’ll do. Like I’m a lion in her home and she’s worried I’ll go bat shit and murder everyone. Or worse, that I’ll curl up on the couch and make myself at home.

“Did I come at a bad time?” I ask with a knowing grin.

She narrows her eyes at me. “You knew this was happening today.”

“Would you believe me if I said I forgot?”

“Sure.”

I point at her mildly. “Sarcasm. I definitely hear it this time.”

“Really?”

“There it is again.” I look over the kitchen absently. “What are you making for the segment? Oreos by any chance?”

“We could,” Rona offers affably. “You could help.”

Lilly swerves her eyes to her friend, issuing a silent warning.

Rona is unaffected, utterly unafraid of the venom in Lilly’s eyes. “They’re easy to make.”

“It’d be great publicity for the bakery and a huge boost for the episode,” Sandra agrees readily. “That is, if you’d be willing to participate, Mr. Avery.”

“What about the host?” Lilly argues. “What about Ron?”

“Don.”

“Right, yeah, Don. What about him.”

“He’s gone,” Captain Mustache tells her. “He did his intro out front and took off.”

“He ditched his own show before we even started filming back here?”

The guy shrugs at her. “He said he had a tee time.”

I check my watch. It’s eight-forty. I don’t have to be to practice until noon. I have plenty of time, and I never turn down a chance to get in front of a camera. If I want to stay on the minds of coaches, fans, and sponsors, if I want my career to last longer than a minute, then I need to stay in the spotlight. I have to be visible. It’s why I’m on TVs across the country with ice cream on my dick. It’s why I agreed to do an interview with Vogue where I talked about my favorite sex positions and cold called Taylor Swift asking her to be my date for the Teen Choice Awards. She said yes because, come on. Why wouldn’t she?

“I got the time to jump in,” I agree, slipping my hands into my pockets, settling in. I look at Lilly with a smirk. “What about you, Hendricks? Are you in?”

“No,” she answers immediately.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not going on camera.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

She sighs impatiently, her arms crossing over her chest. “Because I don’t like celebrities.”

I chuckle. “Kind of a big assumption that being on one episode of
Tastetastic
is going to make you a celebrity, don’t you think?”

Her cheeks burn a pale pink. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what it sounded like.”

“I’m not at all surprised that you misunderstood me.”

“Why? Because I’m a dumb jock?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it, the same way you implied being on one episode of
Tastetastic
was going to make you a celebrity.”

She glares at me, her eyes an open flame.

It warms my heart to see it.

“Are we doing this?” Rona asks uncomfortably, looking between the two of us.

Lilly backs into a corner, away from the center island. “You guys go ahead.”

“You’re really not gonna do it?”

“No, I’m really not.”

I drop down onto a stool next to her, my shoulder bumping against hers. “Well, I guess I’m not doing it either.”

Her blushing, pink lips pull into a straight, disapproving line. “You won’t do it if I won’t?”

“I came here for two things. You and cookies. If you’re not baking ‘em, I don’t want ‘em.”

“Rona made the ones you ate at the party.”

“No, I didn’t,” Rona calls to us.

She’s watching. They all are. Rona, the producer, the makeup girl eye-fucking me, Mr. Mustache. The camera. All eyes are on us but I keep mine focused on hers. On Lilly’s.

“Why are you here? Really?” she insists bluntly.

“I told you. Cookies and your smiling face.”

“That’s insane.”

“So is not wanting to be on TV.”

She rolls her eyes. It’s a reason not to look at me. She tries two more times to avoid it, but her eyes always come back to mine.

“Give it one hour,” I bargain, dipping my voice low and persuasive. “Think of what it will do for the bakery having me on the episode. Of what kind of publicity you’ll get when I take the cookies to practice and hand them out to the press.”

She’s skeptical. Her tone tells me as much when she asks, “The press will be at your practice?”

“We’re Super Bowl contenders. They’re everywhere we are. I’ll tell them about the episode. When to watch. Hell, have you got a t-shirt? I’ll wear it.”

“I’ll get one!” Rona offers. “Green or purple?”

I think back to yesterday, to what Lilly was wearing. A purple sweater to match their van. “Purple. Extra-large if you’ve got it.”

Lilly jitters her leg impatiently. “You’ll really do it if I go on camera? You’ll be in the episode and tell the press about us?”

“I swear it.”

She frowns, her eyes on the glare being cast across the stainless steel top of the island. “What do you want in return?”

“I told you; an hour.”

“An hour baking.”

“That’s it. Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” she agrees guardedly. “It’s a deal.”

“You won’t regret it.”

Her eyes turn to me so they can be impatient with me. “You better hope that’s true or it’s your ass.”

“I love it when you’re ruthless. It turns me on.” I clap my hands together, jumping off the stool to address the room. “Get your aprons on, ladies! It’s about to get sticky up in here.”

Lilly snorts indelicately. “And right out the gate you gave them something they’ll have to edit out.”

“Are you kidding me?” I laugh. “I just gave them their opening sequence.”

It takes a while for everyone to set up. Almost an hour. Lilly has a hurried, whispered discussion with Rona before she signs the waiver, and even though I don’t know the reason why she doesn’t want to do it, I understand the reason why she will. She’s doing it for the bakery, for her friend, and I hope in some small way that she’s doing it for me. That she wants to spend this time with me because I could spend all day with her if she’d let me. I’m hooked on her in the craziest way, a way that brought me down here first thing in the morning to get close to her again, and I’m already regretting the fact that I’ll have to leave in a couple hours.

As the girls get the ingredients set up I make a show of pulling my red plaid shirt off over my head and tossing it to Sandra off camera. I’m not wearing anything underneath. Nothing but tan skin, a cut core, and a smile.

Rona and Kendra slow clap. Someone tosses a dollar onto the table in front of me.

Lilly throws my new purple t-shirt in my face.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” she accuses, but she’s smiling. It’s beautiful on her. Like a rose in winter.

I slowly pull the shirt over my head, stepping in close to her. “You could, you know. Help yourself to this.”

She looks up into my eyes, carefully avoiding my chest. My still naked abs. “I’d rather not.”

“You’d rather kiss me.”

She laughs at my boldness. “No. No, I wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, you don’t want to kiss me.” I tug the shirt down to the hem of my jeans, closing in another step. “You want
me
to kiss
you
.”

“Your lines are better today. Way off base, but less offensive.”

“I wanna lick you.”

She grins. “And we’re back.”

I slowly put a hand on the counter next to her hip. “I thought about you all last night.”

“I know for a fact this is not a story I’m going to enjoy.”

“I was watching Game of Thrones. Have you seen it?”

“I do live in America, yes.”

“Cersei Lannister was being a bitch, her kid was acting insane, and I was starting to wonder why I was watching the show. Then Daenerys Targaryen showed up.”

She smiles despite herself. “I like her.”

I slide my hand along the counter, closing the distance between us. “I love her.”

“You mean you would love to bang her,” she chuckles.

“I mean she’s a badass woman with more backbone than half the characters on that show,” I reply seriously. “And do you know who she reminds me of?”

“I have an idea.”

“My mom.”

She blinks, surprised. “Oh.”

“Who’d you think I meant?” I ask innocently.

Lilly’s eyes burn with silent irritation.

“Anyway, she’d like you,” I continue.

“The Mother of Dragons?”

“My mom.”

“The Mother of Arrogant Asses?”

“The one and only.”

Her mouth quirks on the right, sardonic and subtle. “Why’s that?”

“Because you tell me no. She thinks more people, mainly women, should tell me no.”

“I like her already.”

“She’s very likeable. It’s in the Avery blood.”

Lilly looks to her right, noticing my hand on the counter less than an inch from her hip. She takes a deliberate step back, her face taking on that worried-over-the-lion look she wore earlier.

“No,” she says simply.

“No what?”

“No to whatever it is you’re thinking right now.”

“I’m thinking you smell nice. What is that? Dior?”

“No.”

“Hilfiger?”

“No.”

“Hermes?”

“No.”

I grin. “Are you going to say no to everything I ask?”

Her eyes dance playfully. “No.”

“Are you mad I’m here?”

Lilly pauses, her face falling serious. “No.”

“Do you want me to go?”

She hesitates. “No.”

“Do you want to get dinner with me tonight?”

“No.”

Despite her pattern, I’m not ready for that answer. It throws me for a loop. Stumbles my step.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I got turned down for a date. I don’t know for sure that it’s ever happened before. It definitely feels new.

“Are you sure?” I ask, searching for my footing.

“Yes.”

“
Now
you know the word.”

She smiles. “Sorry.”

I groan affectedly. “Don’t apologize. That’s salt on the wound. It makes it so much worse.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she laughs.

“I want you to be real with me. If you’re saying no, you’re saying no. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop trying, though.”

“It’s a free country.”

I study her closely. “Do you want me to quit trying?”

She looks away. “I’m done playing Twenty Questions.”

“No way! I want my answer.”

“Nobody gets everything they want, Avery.”

“I do.”

She grins artfully. “Not today you don’t.”

Five minutes later and we’re filming. I’ve been on TV before, this isn’t my first rodeo, but I can tell the girls are nervous. They giggle a lot, something I wouldn’t have thought Lilly was capable of doing. I like it, though. I like everything she does, even when she’s shutting me down.

She’s beautiful under the bright lights with her cheeks flushed. They match her lips, and there’s something insanely sexy in the way she quirks them at me. It’s not a smile, not even a grin, but when I’m being obnoxious she twists them in this way that’s disapproving and laughing at the same time. She’s annoyed but she likes it. She likes me, even if she won’t say it. It does it for me in the worst way. She doesn’t give me anything for free. I’m earning those smirks, those hot little lip quirks, and I eat them up like candy for breakfast, wondering what it would be like to taste her, just for a second.

“Colt?” Sandra calls loudly. It doesn’t sound like it’s the first time.

I tear my eyes away from Lilly. “What’s up?”

“Rona was handing you the next cookie to dip.”