“Nah,” I say, and right away, she relaxes, so I let out a chuckle. “But your uncle Brody did. And Coach Huff made sure to talk to me too.”
She sighs dramatically, her shoulders sagging.
“They are all insane,” she utters, her cheeks reddening. “I’m sorry. I told Dad and Cade that it was literally just dinner—that’s all. But, well … my dad is a bit over the top.” She cringes. “Okay, he’s a lot over the top.”
I don’t like her answer, not one bit.
Throwing my truck into park, I tilt my chin up at her. “Just dinner, huh? You sure about that?”
Shifting around on her feet, she shrugs. “Well, yeah. I mean, it was just dinner.”
“Not to me, babe,” I drawl. “To me, that was step one in mygetting the goalieplan.” I wink. “But probably best you don’t tell your dad that, I suppose.”
I’ve intrigued her—that’s for sure.
“Getting the goalie, huh?” She fights back a smile. “What exactly is that about?”
“Why don’t you hop in, and I’ll tell you all about it, sweet cheeks?” I nod toward my passenger seat and watch the internal battle that’s going on inside her head right now.
No one is going to keep me away from Isla Hardy. Not my coach. Not Brody O’Brien. And not her dad either.
“Why should I?” She eyes me over thoughtfully.
I lean a little out the window, giving her a stupid-ass grin. “Because you want to, Nineteen—that’s why. Besides …” I hold my hand up, wiggling my fingers. “These guys are all yours if you decide you want them again.”
That seems only to annoy her, and she glares at me, so I laugh.
“All right, I’m joking. I’m joking.” I shrug. “Kind of. But either way, I promise to be on my best behavior if you get in.”
Though that internal battle is still raging—and I know damn well she’s wondering if she should trust me enough to continue hanging out with me—for whatever reason … she steps off the sidewalk, crosses the street, and climbs in my truck.
And, fuck me sideways, she sure smells good.
Once the door is shut, I shift the truck back into drive just as another car finally comes up behind me, and we head down the road.
“I’ll take the ride and all, but I have class in a few hours,” she tells me like I’m trying to kidnap her or something. “So, no funny business. I can’t go far.”
Looking over at her, I lift a brow. “What time is your class exactly, Isla?”
“One,” she utters, and I bark out a laugh.
“Babe, it’s fucking eight thirty in the morning. I think you have plenty of time.” I shake my head. “That’s four and a half hours. I can think of a lot of stuff we could do with a time frame like that.”
I look away from her, but I’m sure her eyes are bugging out of her head. I didn’t mean it in a pervy way. Well, not really anyway.
What am I saying? Everything I think about when it comes to this girl is perverted.
I’m just about to tell her we can go back to The Tower and watch a movie, but then I realize that may be too forward. I mean, I don’t know many dudes my age who actually watch a movie when they invite a chick over to do that. So, instead, I decide on breakfast.
Yeah, breakfast is good.
It would be even better if I could eat her for breakfast.
Before I tell her, my phone rings, and when I see it’s the nursing home on my screen, I hit Accept, forgetting that the Bluetooth is hooked up, making the call blare over the speakers.
“Hello?” I say, expecting it to be one of the nurses, telling me about an upcoming appointment or something for Juliet. That’s usually the only time they call.
“Hello. Is this Hendrix?” It’s a voice I don’t really recognize, and even though I’m aware Isla is looking at me, I keep it on the truck speaker because I’m driving, and the last thing I need to do is be distracted when she’s in my passenger seat.
