“That isn’t…” He seems to struggle to find the words.
Fresh embarrassment warms my face. “No, of course not.”
I stare at the ground, hoping it will swallow me up.
Vaughn dips his head to meet my gaze. “No wait. That’s…” He trails off as if he’s considering his words carefully. “It isn’t what I meant, but I have thought about it.”
“You have?”
“Of course I have. You’re beautiful and sexy, and we’ve been making out every chance we get. It’s basically all I’ve thought about outside of soccer.” He gives me a sheepish grin.
“I’ve thought about it too.”
His dark blue eyes search my face. “Just because we’ve both thought about it doesn’t mean we need to jump into anything. Besides, this isn’t how I’d want it to happen. You deserve better than my crappy mood after Barrett got me all riled up.”
My stomach dips, and I think I fall a little more for him.
“Even in a bad mood, you’re pretty cute.” Or really cute.
The first real smile since Barrett opened his mouth finally curves up Vaughn’s lips. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“You don’t know how I do what?”
“Pull me out of my negative thoughts so easily. Any other night I’d be left stewing about Barrett’s words for weeks, but I already feel better.”
“Good. You’re too hard on yourself. And you won.” I move my leg, which has his bouncing too. “It wasn’t the best you guys have played all season, but you still found a way to beat them and keep the dream alive.”
He nods ever so slightly. “I channeled your optimism.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. The guys needed to know we could win. Once they knew I believed it, they did too.”
“That wasn’t me. That’s all you. You’re a good captain, Captain.”
He chuckles.
“Hey, I have an idea,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“How about we take one of the four-wheelers out so I can kiss the rest of your bad mood away?”
“I’m not in a bad mood anymore.”
“Good.” I stand and pull him toward the four-wheelers. “But I still want to spend the rest of the night kissing you.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Vaughn
“Again,” Dad yells and then blows the whistle.
We take off, sprinting from one goal line to the other and back. I’ve lost track of how many we’ve run. At least ten. And Dad doesn’t look like he’s ready to ease up any time soon.
When everyone is back, Dad hesitates to blow the whistle again. Hope blooms in my chest. I get that we started off kind of rough yesterday, but we pulled it together and won.
“Are you tired? Do you want to quit?” He lets his gaze roam over every player. “If you are ready for the season to be over, just say the word. We can all go home right now.”
