Summer Fling (Players of Marycliff University Book 1)

by MacMillan, Jerica

  "Okay. Thanks."

  The comfortable and utilitarian theme extended into the bedroom, with a queen sized bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a bookshelf crammed with books the only furniture. Discarded clothes littered the floor between the bed and the door to the bathroom

  Abby went into the small bathroom. It was surprisingly clean from what she knew of college guys' bathrooms. No globs of toothpaste left in the sink, and only a few items on the small counter—hand soap, deodorant, shaving cream, after shave lotion, and a razor. The soap sat on the edge of the sink, the other items clustered neatly in the corner next to the wall.

  Abby stripped off her tank top, dropping it on the floor. She grabbed a washcloth from a pile of mismatched towels under the sink, got a corner of it wet, and wiped up the soda that had seeped through her shirt. She slipped Lance's t-shirt on and looked at herself in the mirror.

  She snorted when she saw the Superman logo in the middle of her chest. Well, somewhat below the middle of her chest, because the shirt swallowed her. The shoulder seams came almost halfway down her upper arms, and the shirt covered her shorts.

  She tried pulling the shirt tight around her torso, twisting the extra fabric behind her, and tucking it in at the small of her back. She'd seen other girls do that and look cute. On her, she thought it just looked silly. She fidgeted with the shirt some more, folding here, tucking there, trying different things to make it so she didn't look like a toddler wearing her dad's clothes. With a huff of annoyance, she gave up and let the shirt hang loose.

  "It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone." Abby reached up and redid her ponytail. "I've already dumped soda over both of us and treated the guy to a personal wet t-shirt contest. Worrying about making a good impression on the hot guy sort of went out the window already."

  With that little pep talk, Abby went back out. Lance looked up from his phone and smiled at her. He stood up from the couch. "Ready?"

  "Sure."

  Lance opened the door and gestured Abby through, locking it behind him. He jogged a little to catch up to her so he could open the door to his car before she got in.

  Abby gave him a confused look. What was with this guy and his insistence on opening doors? She'd agreed to get dessert with him, but it wasn't like this was a date. He was just bored and didn't want to be home yet. That's what he'd said. That didn't make this a date, right?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lance wasn't sure why he'd bullied the girl into wearing his shirt instead of just taking her home.

  Well, yes he was. He didn't want to just take her home and drop her off. The way she called him out on his manners and didn't take any bullshit piqued his curiosity. And he was afraid that if he even took her back to her place for a clean shirt she'd change her mind.

  He was being truthful when he said he'd been thinking of leaving the party when she showed up. But he'd been thinking how nice it would be to just go home and hang out by himself for a while. Until Abby crashed into him and spilled soda all over his shirt. He'd liked the feel of her body crushed against his. Until the sticky cold feeling had seeped in. That was kind of a mood killer.

  When she said she needed to find a way home, he'd seen an opportunity and taken it.

  And, damn, but there's something about a hot chick wearing your shirt that was just sexy. He didn't really understand it, but he liked that Abby was wearing his Superman t-shirt. He'd almost put it on, then on impulse decided to bring it out for her and grabbed a different shirt.

  He was kind of hungry, so the dessert thing wasn't entirely an excuse. But now he wasn't just hungry for pie. He was hungry for her.

  He wanted to get to know her. Get the chance to feel her against him again. See if he could rile her up some more and see what happened. See what would happen if—

  No. He had to stop that train of thought before his feelings became more obvious. She seemed like a no-nonsense kind of girl from their interactions at the party, but she wasn't too sure of him. She kept shrugging him off when he touched her and maintained as much distance between them as she could without being rude. Even now she was sitting close to the passenger door. He clenched his hands around the steering wheel to keep himself from touching her again, just to see how she'd react. He didn't want to scare her off.

  Lance glanced at her out of the corner of his eye while driving to the diner. She looked wistful, almost sad, with her arm resting on the window ledge propping up her head, and the wind whipping the little hairs around her face.

  He cleared his throat. "So, what's your major?"

  Abby turned to look at him, her hand falling to join the other one in her lap. "Spanish. You?"

  "I just graduated. I got my degree in Marketing."

  "Congratulations. So are you job hunting now?"

  Lance shook his head. "No. I have an internship for the summer, and my dad expects me to come take over the family business when that's done."

  "The family business, huh? That sounds like you're in the mafia or something."

  He laughed at that. He was right about her. She was a spitfire and he liked her sense of humor. "No, not the mafia. Just a mechanic shop."

  "You have a degree in marketing and you're supposed to go be a mechanic?" The surprise was evident in her voice.

  Lance grimaced. "Yeah. Every business needs marketing." That's what he'd told his dad to convince him that going to college was a good idea. He was supposed to go to work as a mechanic straight out of high school, but with his mom's help convinced his dad that college would be good for him, good for the business.

  He steered the conversation back to her, not wanting to talk about what was waiting for him at the end of his internship. "What about you? What are you going to do with a Spanish degree?"

  Abby shrugged and looked out the window again. He wished she would keep looking at him. How was he going to get anywhere with her if he couldn't even hold her attention? "I don't know. Travel, maybe. There's lots of things where speaking two languages can help. I haven't decided yet."

  "I'm not sure how well traveling pays, but that sounds like fun."

  Abby flashed him a quick grin. Good. He liked seeing her smile and smiled back. "You know, that's the first time you've smiled at me tonight. I'm not used to having to work this hard to get a smile out of a girl."

  Her smile faded. "Sorry not to meet your smiling standards."

  Her voice was sharp, and Lance backpedaled as quick as he could. "No! That's not what I meant. It's just–"

  She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "I get it. Girls probably fall all over themselves trying to get your attention, smiling and giggling like idiots. You're not used to a girl acting normal. Or whatever." She turned back to the window again.

  Lance took a deep breath and decided to try again. How could he be messing this up already? "All I meant was that I like your smile. I like seeing you smile."

  No response. Shit.

  One corner of his mouth turned up as he thought more about what she'd said. "Why do you think girls fall all over themselves to get my attention?"

  She looked at him finally—a pointed look followed by an eye roll before she looked away again.

  The other corner of Lance's mouth followed the first, his smirk turning into a full blown smile. "Are you trying to tell me I'm attractive?"

  Abby didn't say anything. She didn't even look at him.

  "Well?" he pushed.

  She turned and rolled her eyes at him again. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

  "Let what go?" His voice was dripping with mock innocence. "You mean that you think I'm hot?"

  "I'm sure plenty of girls think you're hot." Her voice was condescending, almost like it should have been followed by a pat on the head.

  Lance decided to ignore the tone and focus on the words. "Plenty of girls like you?"

  He could see her eyes raking over him, checking him out. "You're alright I guess."

  "Just alright, huh?" He flexed his arms as he gripped the steering wh
eel. He knew he was better looking than just alright. Abby's eyes widened as his biceps bulged against his t-shirt, then she looked away. Lance smiled even wider, not even minding that she was looking away again. He decided to stop antagonizing her about that. For now.

  He turned the wheel smoothly, pulling into the diner's parking lot and parking in a spot near the door. At almost eleven on a Saturday night, it was pretty empty. Lance held open the door to the diner for Abby, enjoying once again the way his shirt looked on her.

  Inside the diner was as empty as the parking lot, with only a few tables occupied. The waitress seated them in a booth next to a window, dropped off their menus, and walked away with barely a greeting.

  Abby watched the waitress's retreating back. "Such friendly service."

  Lance's eyes followed her gaze. "The food's good. This place is packed during breakfast and lunch. I'm actually surprised there aren't more people here. It's early, though. They'll get the drunk party goers closer to two probably."

  Abby laughed. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone refer to eleven at night as early before." Lance liked her laugh as much as her smile. He decided not to comment on it, and just smiled back.

  The waitress came back and set two glasses of water on the table in front of them. "You ready to order?" She popped her gum and tapped her pen on the order pad.

  Abby folded her menu and slid it to the edge of the table. "I'll have the chocolate silk pie."

  "And I'll have the pecan." Lance laid his menu on top of Abby's. The waitress scribbled down their order, took the menus, and sauntered off.

  Lance returned his attention to Abby, leaning forward on his arms and keeping his legs under his chair. For now. "Since you didn't seem too concerned about your future job prospects, I'm going to guess you're not a senior yet."

  Abby took a drink of her water before answering. "Not yet."

  The glint of mischief in her blue eyes gave away that she knew what he really wanted to know, but wanted him to work for it. Lance didn't normally have to work this hard to get a girl to talk about herself. She had been right that girls usually smiled and giggled and told him way more than he ever asked or volunteered. But he found himself being the one doing the smiling and the laughing and the volunteering of information. How did she do that to him?

  After waiting a minute to see if she would actually tell him what he was wanting to know, Lance took the bait. "So what year are you?"

  "I'll be a junior in the fall. Where are you from?"

  "Denton, Texas. You?"

  Her face registered her surprise. "Texas, huh? I figured it was probably somewhere down south from the way you talk. You're a long way from home."

  "How do I talk?"

  Abby cocked her head to one side, looking at him carefully, like she could see the evidence of his origins on his face. "Well, you called me sweetheart earlier, and people from around here don't do that. You have a little bit of an accent, but it's not as thick as someone from Georgia or Tennessee. Plus, you insist on opening doors for me. That's not typical in the Northwest either."

  "It's not?"

  "Nope. So what brought you to Spokane?"

  Lance shrugged. "I figured that if I'm destined to spend the rest of my life running a mechanic shop in Denton, I ought to get out and see a little more of the world while I can. Plus, I got a football scholarship at Marycliff that helped pay for school." Lance took a drink of his own water. "My turn now. You never answered my question. Where are you from? I'm not as good at determining where someone's from by the way they talk and how they act as you are."

  Abby smiled at that. "I'm from around here. My mom lives outside of Coeur d'Alene, about 45 minutes away."

  It was Lance's turn to be surprised. He figured she was from the Northwest somewhere, but didn't realize she was still so close to home. "Why'd you decide to stay here? As a Spanish major wouldn't you want to go somewhere where there are more Spanish speakers?"

  Abby shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. The waitress arrived then and plunked their pie in front of each of them. Abby immediately picked up her fork and took a big bite of her chocolate silk pie. "This is really good," she said.

  * * *

  Perfect timing. Abby kept the thought to herself and her mouth full of pie so she wouldn't have to answer. She didn't really like to talk about the issues with her mom that kept her close to home. From the way her mother acted, you'd think Abby lived on the other side of the world rather than 45 minutes away. And she certainly didn't want to get into all that with Lance on this weird . . . whatever this was.

  She was acutely aware that she was wearing this random guy's shirt. Every time she moved, the combined scent of Lance's laundry detergent and cologne wafted up to tickle her nose. But she couldn't tell if he was interested in her, or if he just viewed her as a convenient companion so that he didn't have to hang out at home by himself. It didn't make sense to her that he wouldn't be able to find someone to hang out with if he wanted to, though.

  He was hot. That was the only word for it. His black hair was a little long, like he needed a haircut. It wasn't all gunked up with gel or whatever like some guys did. It kept falling in his eyes, making her want to brush it back, run her fingers through it, and see if it was as soft as it looked. His eyes were a rich brown that lit up when he smiled. And that smile was enough to turn any girl on, which was why she kept being snarky at him whenever he flashed it at her. She didn't normally react to guys like she did to him.

  When the corner of his mouth quirked up, Abby realized that she was staring at his lips. She jerked her gaze to his eyes, her face heating up. His smile widened, and she looked down at her plate, shoving the forkful of pie in her mouth that she'd been holding in the air while she stared at him. Damn, her pie was almost gone. She ate the last few bites as slowly as she could without looking ridiculous, even scraping all the chocolate and whipped cream from the plate with the edge of her fork.

  She risked a look at Lance. He was leaning back with his hands folded across his stomach, his pie gone as well. "Enjoy your pie?"

  Abby blushed again, though she wasn't really sure why. "Yes."

  He smiled at her. "I wondered if you were going to lick your plate next to get all the crumbs." Abby's blush deepened. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his face serious, his voice low and reassuring. "Don't worry, I have to stop myself from licking the plates clean too. Their pie is the best." Lance smiled again and sat back. "So, what do you want to do next?"

  Abby shrugged. "I think I'd like to just go home. I'm getting tired."

  Lance studied her face for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Let me pay for our pie and I'll take you home."

  "Thanks. I can pay for my own pie, though."

  Lance waved away her protest. "No, I made you come have pie with me. I'm paying."

  Without the pie to keep them occupied, Abby felt the silence between them growing more awkward. She cast about for a safe topic of conversation. Work seemed like a safe subject. "So you said you have an internship this summer?" Lance nodded. "Where?"

  That seemed to be all the prompting he needed. He told her all about the internship that he'd started in May, shortly after graduation. He talked about the different projects he was helping with and how he hoped he'd get to take the lead on a small campaign or two before the end of the summer.

  The waitress came with the check, interrupting their conversation. Abby prompted Lance again with another question and he kept enthusiastically talking about himself, keeping the focus off her. She was most comfortable listening to him talk, and barely even noticed that he'd extended his legs under the table so they were caging hers in. She bumped against him once. She'd muttered an apology and he'd just grinned and rubbed his foot against her calf once before continuing with their conversation.