One More Step

by Colleen Hoover

  Without hesitation, I launch through the doorways and rip the blue slip from our hall monitor’s hand. His name’s Ethan, and he hadn’t even finished writing it yet.

  “Hey!” he protests.

  I hold the slip over my head and wave it at him. “I’ll mark myself tardy. I understand!”

  With the crumpled note tucked in my right fist, I fly down the hallway corridors checking the windows in every door, scanning the rows of seats for familiar hair, perfect green eyes, and…exceptionally white Vans.

  I find his feet four classrooms into my hunt. He’s in the front row, which is both good and bad. It means I won’t have to pass many people to get to him. But it also means that I’m about to put on a show. So be it. This show must go on.

  Pulling the door open with enough force to make it quickly ricochet closed again and causing it to slam against my shoulder, I stumble into the classroom while Señor Marisol is writing out today’s date in Spanish on the white board. I was one of his favorite students, which plays to my advantage because rather than yelling at me, he welcomes me to his class.

  “Qué pasa, Frankie?” He barely glances my way as I stroll to the front of his classroom, stopping just short of Hudson’s desk.

  Hudson’s face is stark white and his mouth is stuck in this sort of O shape that matches the huge roundness of his eyes. He wasn’t expecting this, but neither was I. I wasn’t expecting him at all. And that’s the point of everything—to embrace the unexpected.

  “Hudson Walsh, I kinda have a thing for you. Maybe a big thing. Maybe small. I don’t know, but all I know is … ” I swallow hard as I mistakenly glance around the room and notice a few phones out, filming. I’m about to go viral.

  “Yes, I walked toward your cousin at Friday’s dance. But I kissed you because of fate. And I love my stupid unicorn keychain, and our date was the best date I’ve ever had and I’m still sure I can beat you in a backward skate-off, but … ”

  I took a breath, and in that time my rambling is cut off by the warmth of Hudson’s lips against mine.

  He places a palm on either side of my face and leans down enough to match my height, his kiss pulling me up on my toes as my hands wrap around his wrists. The faint echo of whistles and clapping breaks through my personal sound barrier, and I start to smile from embarrassment. This kind of smile though, against Hudson’s? It’s worth the painful blush.

  His mouth breaks away, tugging one last time on my bottom lip as his forehead rests against mine. A nervous giggle slips from my lips and my cheeks ache from smiling.

  “Pretty sure one of those photos is ending up in the yearbook,” he says, chuckling.

  I laugh with him and close my eyes, lifting back up on my toes to kiss him again, just in case someone needs one more shot. From now on, I’m always taking mine.

  THE END

  ABOUT GINGER SCOTT

  Ginger Scott is an Amazon-bestselling, Goodreads Choice and Rita Award-nominated author from Peoria, Arizona. She is the author of several young and new adult romances, including bestsellers Cry Baby, The Hard Count, A Boy Like You, This Is Falling and Wild Reckless.

  A sucker for good romance, Ginger's other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. When she's not writing, she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son swing for the fences or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

  www.littlemisswrite.com

  www.facebook.com/GingerScottAuthor

  www.twitter.com/thegingerscott

  www.instagram.com/authorgingerscott

  OTHER BOOKS BY GINGER SCOTT

  The Waiting Series

  Waiting on the Sidelines

  Going Long

  The Hail Mary

  Like Us Duet

  A Boy Like You

  A Girl Like Me

  The Falling Series

  This Is Falling

  You And Everything After

  The Girl I Was Before

  In Your Dreams

  The Harper Boys

  Wild Reckless

  Wicked Restless

  Standalone Reads

  Cowboy Villain Damsel Duel

  Drummer Girl

  BRED

  Cry Baby

  The Hard Count

  Memphis

  Hold My Breath

  Blindness

  How We Deal With Gravity

  LOVE AT FIRST FIGHT

  * * *

  K.L. GRAYSON

  ONE

  ONE MORE STEP would mean certain death.

  I suck in a breath. Damn, this author is good. I’m about to flip the page to see what happens next when my passenger door flies open. A tall man slides into the front seat and gives me a devastating smile.

  Wow, he’s sexy. But that doesn’t excuse his behavior.

  “Why are you in my car?” I ask, noticing his sharp navy blue suit.

  It doesn’t fit him. Okay, yes, it physically fits him—to a T, I might add—but the rest of him doesn’t seem to match. Sexy Suit Man might fill out his dapper threads, but the scruff on his jaw and tattoos climbing his neck give a different vibe.

  Mama always told me not to judge a book by its cover, but in this case I can’t help it. This guy has heartbreaker written all over him.

  I crane my neck to see what type of shoes he’s wearing.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Your shoes,” I say. I set my book on the center console, fold my arms over my chest and scowl. “Don’t change the subject. What are you doing in my car?”

  The handsome stranger isn’t deterred by my scowl and looks from me to his shoes and back. “What’s wrong with my shoes?”

  “Nothing. They’re very nice.” I curl my nose and give them another onceover. “And shiny.”

  He chuckles, and oh, dear Lord the deep, throaty sound shoots straight through me. “Do you have a problem with shiny?”

  “No, of course not. I just took you for—you know what? Never mind. Why are you in my car?” I give him a little shove toward the passenger door, but the man doesn’t budge. “Get out.”

  “We’re going to come back to the shoe thing later. But first, the guy in there”—he hooks a thumb toward the coffee shop—“told me you’re the town Uber.”

  I’m going to kill Colin. He might be one of my oldest friends and my third grade ex-boyfriend, and give me a free coffee every morning, but he knows damn well that five to six pm is my designated reading time. And because there’s hardly ever anyone who actually needs an Uber in this podunk town before midnight, I end up going home at six and finishing said book until the first call comes through. So basically, Colin just ruined my night.

  Damn him.

  “I’m off the clock.” I reach across him to push open the door but stop short at the smell of his woodsy cologne.

  Don’t do it, Jules. Don’t you dare do it.

  My eyes close, and my traitorous nose breathes him in. The smell of a man can be wildly erotic. Some women like a nice butt or great arms—and don’t get me wrong, I’m an equal opportunity girl and the physical attraction has to be there—but nothing compares to the way a man smells.

  “Are you sniffing me?”

  I shoot up in my seat and shake my head. “No, that would be creepy.”

  Sexy Suit lifts a brow.

  “Okay, fine.” I cave. “I was sniffing you. But in my defense, you smell you really good. It’s hard not to sniff.”

  The man once again flashes his pearly white teeth. He really needs to stop doing that. Doesn’t he know what kind of effect he could have on a woman when he does that? Particularly this woman.

  With a shrug, he leans toward me, presses his nose to the crook of my neck, and draws in a deep breath. My brain screams at me to push him away. He could be a serial killer, for all I know, but my body doesn’t move. Instead, I find myself tipping my head to give him
more room, and when he pulls back, I look up. His face is mere inches from mine.

  Dark brown eyes sear into me. “You smell intoxicating.”

  “Oh yeah?” I breathe, refusing—and failing—to fall for his fancy charm.

  Our gaze holds. His eyes drop to my mouth, and my tongue darts out, wetting my lips. His eyes darken, and for a split second I think he might actually kiss me.

  And I’ll let him—stranger status be damned—because sometimes you just know when a guy will be a good kisser, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that this guy’s lips could rock my world.

  A light tap on my driver’s side window startles us both, and we yank apart. I take a second to collect myself before turning my head. Colin is standing outside with a knowing smile. He waits for me to roll the window down, and because I’m still mad at him, I shake my head.

  “Come on, Jules. Don’t be stubborn.”

  “Jules,” the stranger echoes, as though he’s trying my name on for size. “Is that short for something?”

  “Juliette. But most of my friends call me Jules.”

  “I like Juliette better.”

  “Of course you do.” Choosing to deal with the lesser of two evils, I roll the window down and frown at Colin. “What do you want?”

  Colin’s smile grows. “I see you’ve met Mason.”

  Mason. I like that name. It’s strong and suits him much better than, well, his tailored suit.

  “If the guy who highjacked my car is Mason, then yes, I did.”

  “I didn’t highjack your car,” Mason says with a touch of amusement.

  Not literally, but the second he climbed into my vehicle, he highjacked every one of my senses, so that’s basically the same thing. But I refuse to admit that. The guy has enough ammunition in his arsenal. The last thing he needs is to know I’m wildly attracted to him.

  “It would seem that Juliette and I are having our first fight,” Mason tells Colin.

  “There will be many more to come with this one.” Colin grins and looks past me. “But don’t let her snarky tone deter you. She’s really quite sweet.” He looks at me, his smile faltering when I narrow my eyes. “When she’s not mad at me. Speaking of…” Colin lifts his hands, revealing two steaming cups of what I know will undoubtedly be my favorite drink: caramel macchiato. “A peace offering for interrupting your reading time?”

  “You’re forgiven,” I say, taking both cups. I double fist them and take a sip out of the one on the left. “Mmm… I swear this is liquid crack.”

  “Uh, Jules, the other one is for Mason.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Colin nods and points to the cup in my right hand. “I felt bad for sending you a customer during your scheduled reading time, and then I felt bad that he had to be the one to actually interrupt your reading time, because we all know what a bear you can be when that happens. Anyway, when I saw you two still sitting here, I thought a nice, warm drink would smooth things over.” Colin smiles at Mason. “She doesn’t like her reading time to be interrupted.”

  “I’ve gathered. What’re you reading?” Mason asks, reaching for the cup. I try to pull my arm back, but there’s only so far you can go in a tiny car.

  “None of your business,” I say, releasing the cup with a huff. “You better drink all of that.”

  TWO

  Mason

  SHE’S FEISTY, AND I love it.

  “Oh, I will.” I tilt the cup toward Colin. “Thanks, bro.”

  “Anytime.”

  Juliette looks at me over the rim of her drink. Her green eyes are filled with uncertainty, and if I’m not mistaken, a hint of curiosity.

  The feeling is definitely mutual, sweetheart. You’re the first girl in years to grab my attention, and I’m not sure what to think about that.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” I murmur, fighting the urge to brush a chunk of hair out of her face so I can get a better look.

  Said eyes widen at the unexpected compliment.

  Damn, hasn’t anyone ever told her how beautiful she is? High cheekbones, big eyes surrounded by dark lashes. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and not a hint of makeup.

  “Are you a serial killer?” she asks.

  “Do I look like one?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. Ted Bundy was handsome too.”

  “I don’t know whether to be offended that you compared me to Ted Bundy or flattered that you think I’m handsome.”

  Juliette snorts.

  It’s adorable.

  She’s adorable.

  “I don’t… I mean…” She shakes her head. “I never said…” She stumbles over her words and finally snaps her mouth shut.

  I smile, because her breath catches every time I do it. I like knowing I have that sort of effect on her. “So, I’m not handsome?”

  “Quit putting words into my mouth.”

  “Well, which one is it?”

  I can tell by the look on her face that she knows there’s no way around this one. She either has to admit that she finds me attractive, or risk insinuating that I’m ugly.

  Juliette rolls her eyes. I’m normally not a fan of the gesture, but on her, I find it cute. “You’re not really going to make me say it, are you?”

  This time I can’t resist. I lean forward, brush my hand along the apple of her cheek, which now holds a beautiful shade of pink, and whisper, “Yes, I am.”

  Her head tilts toward my hand. The movement is subtle—most observers probably wouldn’t notice. But I do.

  “Yes,” she says softly. “You’re handsome. But you don’t need me to tell you that. I bet you have women falling at your feet.”

  She’s right. I do, but I’ve never found that sort of behavior attractive in a woman. But this…this push and pull, her making me work for it, is really doing something to me.

  I’ve spent the last several years working, building my clientele, and never had time for women, let alone a relationship. I never wanted to have time. But now I’m settled—at least I’m trying to settle, if I can ever get my little spitfire here to take me where I need to go—and maybe it’s time I open myself up to the possibility of something outside of work. Something along the lines of a date with a beautiful brunette.

  “Wow. Is it getting hot in here, or is just me?” Colin’s voice breaks through our lusty fog.

  Juliette closes her eyes. “It’s thirty degrees out,” she says.

  I glance over her shoulder in time to see Colin loosen the bow tie around his neck. “Well, if the heat you two are producing is making me hot, you must be burning up.”

  “Goodbye, Colin.”

  “Goodbye, Jules. Mason…” He nods and turns to walk back inside.

  I lift my hand in a wave, and as soon as Juliette rolls up her window, I say, “You two are—”

  “Just friends.”

  “Friends with benefits?”

  Her eyes widen. “No. Just friends. We’ve known each other since kindergarten—not that it’s any of your business.”

  I plan to make her my business, but I don’t dare say it out loud. Not yet, at least. “You two have never dated?”

  She opens her mouth, no doubt in preparation to tell me where to shove my questions, and then lifts a shoulder. “Maybe.”

  Damn. I like Colin. Now I sort of want to punch him. “How do you maybe date someone?”

  “We were in third grade,” she says with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.

  “What happened? Did he cheat on you?”

  Juliette’s easy smile falters. “He didn’t cheat on me.”

  “But someone else did?” When she gives me a look, I shrug. “I could sort of hear it in your voice.”

  “Yes, someone else did, but I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Fair enough. What would you like to talk about?”

  “You getting out of my car.”

  “There she is,” I say, smiling. “And stop pretending like you want to get rid of me. We both know
you’re enjoying the company.”

  “Okay, now I really need you to get out so I can finish reading my book.”

  “You see, I can’t. This town doesn’t have a taxi service, and according to Colin and my trusty Uber app, you’re the only driver around.”

  “I’m off the clock.”

  “How is it that this tiny town even has an Uber driver?”

  She shakes her head. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fine. Where are you going?”

  “To the nearest hotel that won’t have bedbugs.”

  Juliette laughs. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I don’t joke about bedbugs.”

  “You really don’t have a place lined up to stay?”

  I shake my head.

  We sit in silence for a few seconds and finally, Juliette pulls out her phone. “You probably don’t want to stay at the hotel in town. I’ve heard sketchy things. The closest nice hotel is in the city, about thirty miles away.”

  “I don’t want to go that far.” I want to be close to my business so I can work on getting things set up.

  “I might have another option for you.” She fires off a few texts, tucks her phone in her purse, and pulls onto the street. “I pick up drunks.”

  “Huh?”

  “You asked how a small town like Benton ended up with an Uber driver. I pick up drunks. Well, I’ll really pick up anyone who needs a lift and has the Uber app, but I mostly did it for the people who are too intoxicated to drive. I wanted them to know they don’t have to get behind the wheel, that there’s another option.”

  Wow. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “That’s…really great of you.”

  I watch her hands tighten on the steering wheel as she drags in a breath. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Sure.”

  “If my sarcastic attitude didn’t run you off, this probably will.”

  “Try me,” I say, relaxing in the seat.