Wild Love (Campus Nights Book 4)

by Rebecca Jenshak

  “Yes, but you need the full Wildcat experience.”

  I shake my head. “Come on. Let’s get one last dance party in and make it good because it’s going to be six long weeks without seeing you shake it.”

  She smiles and shakes her boobs at me. “Nope. We’re going to do virtual dance parties. I just decided. Once a week. Mandatory attendance.”

  “I’m in.”

  7

  Johnny

  Dakota’s eyes are closed, brows pinched together as I drive. We just crossed into Oklahoma, and we’re an hour from her dad’s house in Kansas.

  It’s been a long ass day in this vehicle, and Dakota’s so hungover from last night that she hasn’t been much company.

  “I need to stop and let Charli out. Do you feel like eating yet?”

  She moans without opening her lids.

  “A little grease to soak up the alcohol, and you’ll be good as new.”

  “Fine.” She sits up and stretches, sticking her boobs out in the process. “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know. All these small towns look the same.” I pull into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant and kill the engine.

  As soon as I open the door, the air outside takes my breath away. “The humidity is killer. I always forget.”

  “Oh right, you grew up in Chicago. Arizona suits you so well.” She gives her head a little shake. “Actually, scratch that. I think you could fit in anywhere.”

  “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

  We walk Charli around in a grassy area between businesses. Dakota sits as if we haven’t been doing that all day.

  “What exactly did you girls get into last night? I can’t remember ever seeing you this hungover.”

  “Shots. So many shots. We swore our loyalties to one another by dancing our hearts out and drinking Rumple Minze.”

  “Girls are weird.”

  She nods. “What’d you guys do?”

  “Played Xbox and ate four large pizzas.”

  She snort-laughs and then stops and holds her stomach. “Did you hear that? My stomach just growled. I think it’s finally awake.”

  “And wants pizza.”

  “That does sound good.” She bites the corner of her lip. “There’s this really great pizza place in my hometown.”

  “All right. Let’s load back up then because I am ravenous.”

  When we get back on the highway, Kota is more alert and plays with the music while I drive.

  “I’m going to let my dad know we’re getting close.”

  “What are your parents like?”

  She hesitates. “They’re great. It’s just my dad and me now. My mom died when I was fifteen.”

  “I had no idea. I’m sorry.” A heavy feeling settles in the bottom of my stomach.

  “It’s okay. I mean. I don’t know. I never know how to respond to that. Thank you?” She smiles.

  It occurs to me that for as much time as I’ve spent with Dakota, hanging out, partying, joking around, I don’t know that much about her. And I want to. “What does your dad do?”

  “He’s a firefighter.”

  “Badass.”

  “Technically, he’s my stepdad, but he married my mom when I was five, so he’s just Dad.”

  “And your real dad?”

  “Real dad.” She rolls her eyes. “He wasn’t really into the family thing. He popped in occasionally when I was younger. I get a birthday card and a call on Christmas.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. Be sorry that my awesome mother died if you want, but not that my sperm donor isn’t part of my life. Some people just weren’t meant to be parents. My real dad is one of those.”

  I wonder if my parents fit that criterion. They always made sure I had what I needed, but they were never very interested in doing the traditional parent activities like spending time together.

  When we get close, Dakota navigates me through her hometown. I stop at the pizza place, and she runs in to get our order. Charli puts her paws up on the dash watching her.

  Someone stops her at the doorway, and they embrace. Charli and I look on. My dog whines.

  “I know. I know. She’s coming back.” I pat her head. Charli is a pretty friendly dog, but she’s got a major crush on Kota. Who could blame her? Dakota watched her for me recently when I had to make a trip up to Minnesota, and she always gives her attention, pets her, takes her on runs. We’re easy to please.

  I check email on my phone. Hugh sent the final signed contract for my endorsement and my lease agreement. I lucked out being able to find a sublease for Dakota in the same building.

  The Legends is usually booked up solid, but one of my new teammates was looking to offload his place while he moved back to his hometown to recuperate from surgery. I didn’t even think about him taking his stuff with him. I just assumed it was furnished.

  She’s going to find out eventually that the endorsement is for the Maverick Corporation, but I couldn’t risk her passing because of pride. I could see how much she wanted the job, and she shouldn’t have to give that up because of something stupid like money.

  She comes out a few minutes later with two large pizza boxes. I lean over to open the door for her, and the smell that takes over my truck is divine.

  “Oh, man. My mouth just started watering.”

  “Right.” She sits and flips open the lid revealing a sausage pizza. She frees a slice and takes a bite, then groans loudly. “You have to try it.”

  She holds out the pizza to feed me, and I take a huge bite that makes her laugh.

  “You almost got my fingers.”

  “I’m so hungry. I hope one of those boxes is all mine.” I reach for another slice, and she smacks my hand. “Only one bite. We have to save the rest to eat with my dad.”

  Dakota’s dad lives in a quiet subdivision on the east side of town. I park the SUV along the road, grab our overnight bags and Charli, and follow her up the sidewalk to an entrance at the back side of the house.

  The screen door creaks open, and a big, burly guy with a gray beard steps out. “DJ!”

  “Dad!” She holds the pizzas with one hand to her side and hugs him with the other.

  Her dad looks at me over her shoulder and gives me the appropriate dad once-over. Charli growls in my arms.

  Dakota laughs and pulls back. “Dad, this is Maverick. Maverick, meet my dad.”

  “Maverick, huh?”

  “Johnny Maverick, but everyone just calls me by my last name.” I drop Charli to the ground and step forward to shake his hand.

  He stares at the tattoos along my arm as he reaches to take my hand. “Jerry. Thanks for driving my DJ.”

  Kota rolls her eyes. “He always wanted a son. Hence the nickname.”

  Jerry smiles and holds the door open for us or, well, her. I get the feeling ole Jer might let it slam in my face if it weren’t for Dakota holding it open with her foot while I shuffle through with Charli and the bags.

  The house is small but has a homey feel. Everything is tidy and clean, but there are stacks of papers and clutter that my parents always kept out of view for guests.

  We drop our stuff, and I feed Charli while Dakota and Jerry catch up. I try to hang back and give them some time, but Kota calls for me, and it’s a good thing because one whole pizza is gone by the time I sit down.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Jerry asks. From the kitchen table, he reaches over and opens the fridge. “I’ve got Coke or beer.”

  “He wants beer, Dad,” Dakota says at the same time I say, “Coke will be fine.”

  Jerry looks between us.

  “Either one is great. Thanks.” I wipe my palms on my thighs. I don’t have a lot of experience with fathers. Especially girls’ fathers.

  I mumble my thanks as he sets a Bud Light bottle in front of me. I think I’m sweating. Must be the humidity. Charli jogs in circles around the living room, then the kitchen, checking everything out.

  I w
histle lightly and pat my thigh to get her attention. “Come lie down, girl.”

  “Ah, let her be,” Jerry says. “She’s been cooped up in the car all day. So, DJ, tell me about this job.”

  My friend lights up and goes into it, telling her dad every single detail.

  “You don’t know which player or what they’re endorsing?” Her dad leans back in his chair and takes a long drink of beer.

  “No, but I checked out all the guys on the team and their endorsements, and there wasn’t anything crazy. My guess is that it’s some diva who needs a handler to make sure he shows up to set and looks pretty. Maybe Jack Wyld.” She looks at me. “He’s got quite the reputation for partying.”

  “Jack’s a nice guy. I doubt he’d do anything to jeopardize a lucrative relationship. The guys I’ve met have all been levelheaded and cool.”

  “Hockey players and levelheaded.” Jerry grins. “That’s funny, Maverick.” The way he says my name is almost like he’s mocking me.

  Now I really am sweating.

  I pull at the collar of my T-shirt to get some air.

  “More ink, huh? What do all those mean?”

  “Mean?” I drop my gaze to the tattoos on both arms.

  “Back in my day, when a man got a tattoo, it meant something. Now you’re all covered in them, and it loses the sentimentality, don’t you think?”

  “Daaad.” Dakota pins him with an annoyed glare.

  “No, it’s fine. My dad said basically the same thing when I got my first sleeve done.” I stretch out my left arm. “The truth is. Some of them have special meaning; others don’t.”

  “Like decorating a house,” Dakota pipes in. “Some items are sentimental, and others you buy because you thought they were pretty.” She places her elbows on the table and looks at Jerry. “Do you still have the pink sofa?”

  “In the basement.” He nods.

  “Oh, you have to see it.” Dakota reaches out and touches my arm lightly. “The salesperson called it dusty rose, but it’s the color of bubblegum.”

  Everything in my parents’ house was white or gray. I think I might like a bubblegum pink couch. Jerry retires to an old recliner in the living room, and Dakota rinses the plates while I finish off the pizza.

  “Going downstairs, Dad,” she calls as we start down the creaky stairs.

  “Leave the door open,” he yells.

  “Oh my gosh. So embarrassing,” she mumbles and flips on a light in the stairway. “Welcome to my teenage hangout. I spent many hours down here watching TV and hanging out with friends.”

  “Boy friends?” I ask.

  “Sometimes.” She walks straight to the pink couch and sits down. She runs a hand along the fabric cushion as I take in the rest of the space.

  My head grazes the ceiling fan in the middle of the living area. The furniture is mismatched as if it’s a collection of old furniture pieces Jerry couldn’t bear to part with. A worn leather armchair, a plaid upholstered love seat, and the pink couch. A flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall, and a bookshelf sits underneath, holding dusty books and games.

  “Did you have a basement where you took girls in high school?”

  “Kind of.” I take a seat next to her on the couch. It’s hard, not a lot of give, and it sits low to the floor, making my ass sink down below my knees. “I had a pool house.”

  “Oh my gosh, of course you did.” She rolls her eyes but smiles.

  “This is a great color,” I say and mean it. “Could be more comfortable, though. This thing is hard as a rock.”

  I try to bounce on it and then wiggle to get situated, but it’s like sitting on a bleacher seat.

  “My mom always wanted a pink couch. I have no idea why. It was a running joke every time we picked out new furniture.” She plays with the hem of her shorts, staring down at the material between her fingers as she continues. “The day she found out her cancer had returned, she went straight from the doctor’s office to the furniture store. I came home from school, and she was sitting on it and just smiling. She died two weeks later.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I cover her hand with mine.

  She lets out a breath and nods. “It is pretty uncomfortable.”

  “The worst,” I admit. “But I dig it. My parents were all whites and grays. I like color.”

  She squeezes my fingers. “How come you don’t have any colorful tattoos?”

  I scan my arm. I’d never thought about it before. “I guess I’m whites and grays too.”

  “Oh no.” She smiles. “You are a pink couch. Not quite right, but all about making people happy.”

  Chuckling, I move my hand. “Jerry seems nice.”

  “Nice? Really.”

  “Okay, he seems like a hard-ass, but he loves you, that much I got.”

  “He loved my mom so much. Even if I were a holy terror, because let’s be honest, there were some rough high school years when I was awful, he’d still love me if only because I’m her daughter. She was going through chemo when they met. Can you imagine the kind of love that takes? He had no idea if she’d get better.”

  “But she did.”

  “Yeah.” Dakota nods. “They had ten amazing years, and I guess that’s more than most people get.”

  Dakota grabs two more beers, and we eventually move to sitting in front of the couch. It’s a real bad sign for a piece of furniture when you’d rather sit on the floor than on it, but I’m having a great time.

  She rests an elbow on the pink couch and angles toward me. “Tell me about your parents.”

  “We’re not close. They were busy building the company when I was a kid. But they gave me a lot.”

  “I saw your dad at the Frozen Four celebration party. He seemed proud of you.”

  A laugh breaks free. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. He is proud in his own way, but I don’t think he’s ever said the word.”

  “He should. You’ve done some amazing things. Were they disappointed that you were quitting college to sign with the Wildcats?”

  “Nah, they were all about it.” I shrug. “I was never going to be anything but a hockey player.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Johnny Maverick. I think you could be anything you want.”

  8

  Dakota

  He lines up the empty beer bottles between us. Upstairs is quiet. Dad must have gone to bed. It feels good to be home. Not a lot has changed in the three years since I moved away to college, but the basement feels smaller with Maverick in it.

  He has that way about him, filling up space. Not just physically because he’s a big guy, but his personality is even bigger.

  The conversation has bounced from every topic imaginable—from my mom to all the horrifying things guys have said to me on dating apps.

  “No way. He didn’t say that.” Mav throws his head back and laughs.

  “He did. I would prove it to you, but I deleted the app. I asked him where his favorite place he’d visited was, and he said, the womb. Like, what do I do with that? How do you ever make a guy like that happy? I can’t give that to him. Is he going to have some weird obsession with my womb when I get pregnant? So many questions.”

  “Again, this is why I don’t do online dating.”

  “You do have a certain charm that might be misunderstood via text.”

  “Right?” He laughs and stretches out a long leg in front of him.

  Charli is snoring at his side, and he absently runs a hand along her back.

  “It’s different now,” I say. “Now that our friends are all coupled up. I see how happy they are. I want that.”

  “You know what you need?” he asks.

  “Oh my god, I swear if you hit on me right now, I’m going to break one of these beer bottles and beat you over the head with it.”

  “First of all, ouch. That’s some crazy bar brawl shit, Kota.”

  I laugh. I’ve seen Patrick Swayze in Road House one too many times, admittedly.

  “Second, stop trying to force it. Enjo
y the weirdos and the cringe stories. Have fun with it. Things will happen when they’re supposed to. Life is a series of events that you can either let push you down or shrug them off and move on. I’m single and making the most of it.”

  “Oh, I know. I’ve seen you making the most of it. Two girls at a time. How does one girl compare after that, seriously?”

  “You know the great thing about two girls instead of one?”

  “Oh man, I feel like I should be taking notes. I cannot wait to hear this. No, Johnny, what’s the great thing about two girls instead of one? Outside of the obvious two vaginas to stick it in thing.”

  He shakes his head. “It takes off the pressure. From everyone.”

  “The pressure? Seriously? You poor thing. Performance anxiety? I knew it.”

  “Think about it. You’re hooking up with someone, and it’s just the two of you. Every movement, every word is a back and forth trying to read one another and wondering how the other thinks or feels. Casual sex, especially when you get more than two people, is all about fun. No one calls the day after a threesome to see if you want to grab a coffee.”

  I give my head a shake, but I can’t hide my smile. I understand what he means, though. It’s about expectations.

  You take people at their word, and sometimes they disappoint you. They make you feel special and wanted, they say all the right things, but you don’t really know their heart. The upside? Eventually, people always show you their true colors.

  And it isn’t just in dating either. We have expectations in all kinds of relationships. I learned this lesson at eighteen when a man that I trusted, my high school track coach, made me believe that I was a talented runner who had a bright career ahead of her. Maybe I did, but he never really believed that. He was saying and doing whatever he thought would get him in my pants. It’s kind of incredible the lengths some people will go to to keep you from knowing they only want sex. Expectations.

  He grins back. “Besides, two chicks wanting me at once—so hot.”

  “And there it is. I’m going to be single forever. I appreciate your honesty, though.”