Chapter One
Chessly
The first semesterof my junior year at Mountain State College settled nicely into its regular rhythms.
Then I met Finn McCabe.
Usually, I attended the Homecoming bonfire with Piper Maxwell and Saylor Davis—friends I’d made during freshman year when we all lived on the same floor in Hanover Hall. We did our best to coax our fourth partner in crime, Jamaica Winslow, to join us, but she’d made it as clear as glass she had zero interest in sports or any of the trappings that went with it. She never attended football games and couldn’t be dragged from her books for such a waste of time as a Homecoming bonfire.
But Jamaica had recently started hanging out with Callahan O’Reilly, starting tight end for the Wildcats, and he’d bribed her other best friend, Axel Benson, to make sure she made it to the bonfire. Axel had commandeered me as his second in case she tried to bolt before Callahan could finish up with the football team’s bit and join us.
That was how I ended up catching a ride back to the dorms with Finn after the team tossed the effigy of the Tigers onto the bonfire and all the fireworks had faded into the night sky.
“You sure you don’t want to ride with us?” Jamaica asked for the third or fourth time since Axel and his boyfriend Drake had “abandoned” her, “forcing” her to catch a ride home with Callahan. Sometimes my friend could be a bit of a drama queen.
“I’m sure I want to avoid being up close and personal with the PDA I saw in front of the dorms last Sunday morning.” I didn’t even try to hold back my grin at my friend’s wide-eyed response. Everyone in the lobby of Hanover had seen the lip-lock Callahan had laid on Jamaica before she let herself out of his truck the previous weekend. They’d practically steamed up the entire courtyard in front of the lobby.
“You’ll be a gentleman with my friend—right, Finn?” Jamaica narrowed her eyes at the man in question. Clearly, his size—he was a defensive end—didn’t intimidate her in the least.
Then again, she’d made her demand from the safety of the circle of Callahan’s arm.
“Aren’t I always a gentleman?” Finn sounded utterly perplexed, but I didn’t miss the twinkle in his whiskey-colored eyes.
I kind of hoped he had his fingers crossed behind his back. After all, we’d spent the better part of the evening covertly eye-fucking each other at every chance we’d got. The way he looked at me left tingles on my skin that had nothing to do with the late-October chill in the air.
“I’m counting on it. Chessly is good people, not some jersey chaser with a dubious agenda.” My friend’s tone held all kinds of warnings.
Finn shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, and I wondered at what Jamaica wasn’t saying.
“She’ll be fine. Promise.” Finn saluted her with two fingers in what I supposed was his version of Scout’s honor or something. To me he said, “My truck is over here.” He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and nodded in the direction of some vehicles parked in the next row of the parking lot behind the stadium.
The autumn breeze coming off the mountains carried a definite shiver of winter with it. Even dressed in my jeans and my favorite fleece-lined hoodie, I was missing the heat the bonfire threw off when we were standing near it. I didn’t know how Finn couldn’t feel the cold while wearing only his game jersey and jeans.
Stepping over next to him, I said, “Thanks. “As we started walking toward his ride, I called over my shoulder, “Don’t keep Callahan out too late. He has a big game tomorrow.”
Snickering at the not-so-discreet bird Jamaica flipped me, I double-timed my stride to keep up with Finn’s long-legged amble. When we came up alongside an old blue Chevy that had weathered some hard times, he kind of ducked his head and opened the passenger door for me.
“Your chariot, milady.” Under his breath he added, “Such as it is.”
His deceptively ambling gait around the front of his pickup threw me because a second later he joined me in the cab, sliding in gracefully behind the wheel. For such a big man—he stood north of six foot six and must’ve tipped the scales above 250—he moved with the grace of a panther.
Clearing my throat to cover for ogling the guy as he slid his key into the ignition, I pulled the seat belt across my chest and buckled it. “You have wheels. That’s a big step up from having none.” I glanced around the inside of his truck. Though Spartan in terms of state-of-the-art bells and whistles, the interior was clean—a plus I also appreciated.
“You don’t have a car?” he asked as he carefully pulled out of his parking space and headed toward the front of the lot.
“Nope. Haven’t managed that yet.”
As we waited in a line of vehicles to exit the stadium parking lot, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and slid side-eyes my way. I couldn’t help the tiny smile that quirked the corner of my mouth. From the way he was acting, he was casting around for something to say. It kind of tickled me that this great big man who had his way with opposing offenses every Saturday afternoon was nervous sitting in the cab of his truck with me. I could have rescued him, but I wanted to hear what he came up with.
When we reached the stop sign, he had a decision to make. Clearing his throat, he said, “Where am I taking you?”
“To Hanover. You know where that is?”
“The all-women’s dorm?” A wisp of a chuckle escaped him. “Yeah, I know where that is.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you a player off the field too?”
Though I’d been eyeing him all evening, maybe I needed to rethink my interest.
