Summer Fling (Players of Marycliff University Book 1) (3 page)

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.

When the waitress returned with his credit card, Lance signed the slip, and they both got up to leave. Abby could feel the heat of his hand on the small of her back through her shirt as he ushered her out the door of the restaurant.
 

Lance opened Abby's door again for her to get in the car. It caught her off guard every time. She reached for the handle, when suddenly his hand was there, swooping in and pulling the door open before she could. When she looked at him he just grinned.
 

Lance buckled himself in and started the car. "Where do you live?"
 

"Vista View Estates. Do you know where it is?" Lots of Marycliff students lived there.

"The one a couple blocks from the science building?" Abby nodded. "I know where that is."

The night had cooled off more now that it was nearing midnight. Abby left her window up. The ten minute drive to her apartment passed in silence, the rumble of the engine and the tires on the asphalt the only soundtrack.
 

Abby stared out her window, trying to puzzle through this evening. Maybe she was just too much of a pushover. First, Megan coerced her into going to the party with her. Then after running into Lance she got pushed into going out for pie wearing his t-shirt. What she couldn't figure out was why Lance had wanted to take her out, and why he wouldn't just take her home to change first. And he kept touching her. They were all innocent touches. She doubted he even realized he was doing it, and what it was doing to her.

This is probably the weirdest night ever.

"Which building is yours?" The sound of Lance's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned to him.

"What? Oh. I'm in C5. It's down over there on the right, the bottom corner unit."

Lance pulled into a parking spot near her building. Abby got out and as she closed the door, she looked up and saw that Lance had gotten out, too.

"What are you doing?"

He looked at her like that was a dumb question. "Walking you to your door." It almost sounded like he wanted to say, "Duh," at the end of that sentence.

Abby started walking toward her door, pulling the long t-shirt out of the way so she could get to her pocket to pull out her key. Lance fell in step beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat he gave off.
 

She glanced at him when they reached her door. "Thanks." She started to unlock the deadbolt and stopped. "Oh, your shirt." She realized belatedly that he must be expecting her to change and give it back to him before he left. Then she remembered that she'd left her shirt on his bathroom floor. "Wait,
my
shirt."
 

He flashed her another smile. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it from you another time. Why don't you give me your phone number and we'll figure it out later." He handed her his phone so she could put her number in. She looked up at him, hesitating for a moment. Then she shrugged, typed in her number, and handed back his phone.

He smiled and tapped on the phone screen. Abby felt the phone in her back pocket buzz with an alert. "There, now you have my number, too."
 

"Great." Abby finished unlocking her door. With her hand on the doorknob she looked back up at Lance. "Well, thanks for the pie and . . . everything." She licked her lips and noticed Lance's gaze zero in on the movement. He was staring at her mouth. "Umm . . . it was . . . nice." He was still looking at her lips. Like maybe he wanted to kiss her or something. "Well, goodnight."

Lance finally pulled his eyes back to hers. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Goodnight. I'll text you tomorrow so we can trade shirts back." He smiled at her and took a step closer.
 

"Okay. Great. Talk to you later." Abby opened her door and stepped through, closing the door as quickly as she could while trying not to look like she was running away from him. But she was.
 

She leaned against her closed door, turning the locks. "What the hell was that?"

CHAPTER THREE

Lance was frustrated. Annoyed.
 

He was trying to work out his frustration in the weight room. It wasn't helping. He'd put enough weight on the bench press to set a new personal record to try to distract himself, but even that couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting back to the night before.

Abby hadn't been overly talkative, but he figured she was just shy. She had sparred with him verbally off and on, but she'd clammed up when he'd asked more about her beyond the usual superficial questions.
 

It was the goodnight that frustrated him the most. He'd been about to kiss her, and she had scampered away and closed the door. Most of the girls he walked to their doors were all flirting and smiles, waiting for him to make a move. But not Abby. Did she not realize that he was into her? Why else would he take her out for pie in the middle of the night?

Oh, God. Maybe she wasn't into him. He put the bar back in the rack and sat up, grabbing his towel and wiping his face, thinking over that possibility. That would explain why he got all of her snark, and nothing more than the barest of personal details.
 

It seemed possible that she might not be into him. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like he made her nervous. The way she'd darted inside seemed like she was scared, not disgusted. Wouldn't a girl who'd given him shit for staring at her wet shirt be up front about not liking him? If she didn't like him he wouldn't have been able to convince her to let him take her out. She'd have insisted that he just take her straight home and not put up with his bullshit of going home and changing first. She hadn't even protested that.

She was just nervous, Lance decided. Feeling better, he racked the weights he'd used, wiped down the bench and bar, and went home.
 

He'd found Abby's shirt on his bathroom floor when he'd gotten home the night before. He'd even held it to his face so he could smell her scent–lightly floral with hints of vanilla. Feeling like a creeper, he'd thrown it into his pile of dirty clothes.
 

Once he was home he decided to start a load of laundry so he could wash Abby's shirt and give it back to her clean.
 

He'd just shut the lid on the washing machine when his phone started buzzing with an incoming call. He glanced at the display quickly before answering. "Hey, Mom."

"Hi, Lance. How's your weekend going?"

He grabbed a beer out of the fridge on his way to the couch, settling in for his weekly phone call with his mom. "Good. Just doing some laundry."

"Any interesting girls I should know about?"

"Mom, if I start dating anyone I'll let you know."

"You better. Now, how's your internship going?"

Lance was glad for the neutral change of subject and happily talked about his job for the next twenty minutes.
 

"It sounds like you're enjoying it and learning a lot."

"I am."

"Good. Do you think a lot of it will help when you come back here?"

Lance paused, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess so." He should've known his mom would bring it back around to him coming home. She brought it up every week when they talked. That and asking about a girlfriend.
 

The problem was that he didn't really want to go back home and help his dad run the family's mechanic shop. His parents had expected him to come home after graduation. He'd convinced them that the internship would teach him a lot about marketing in a business setting, outside of the classroom. He'd used a similar argument to get them to agree to him getting his degree in the first place—that it would help him to be able to run the family business better when he took over.
 

The internship could lead to a job he really wanted. But he knew he was just delaying the inevitable. In August he would be packing up and heading back to Denton, so he could work on cars for eight to ten hours a day.
 

"Lance, I know coming back here isn't what you really want." His mom's voice pulled him back to their conversation. "But we need you. Your dad needs you."

Lance let out his breath slowly, resting his head in his hand. "I know. I'll be home in August, Mom."

"Okay." In a more chipper tone she added, "And there are several young ladies here who'd love to meet you. I really think you'd hit it off with Shelley. Lauren's nice, too. I had lunch with her mom last week—you know my friend Linda? Well, I was telling her—"