Chapter Seven Cash #2
As soon as that thought invaded my mind, I ruthlessly beat it back.
Thoughts of that party inevitably strayed to memories of the glorious moments I’d spent in the upstairs hallway kissing the hell out of the hottest girl I’d ever held in my arms. Then Dalton had interrupted, and she’d disappeared as though she’d been nothing but a fantasy.
I didn’t know her name, and if I’d seen her anywhere on campus, I wouldn’t have had a clue since all I had to go on was blonde hair, snappy hazel eyes, and a killer body that I’d know by feel but not by sight.
That damn electric-blue mask covering nearly all of her features had stolen away any chance I had to describe her to anyone who might know her.
Dalton excluded.
No matter how many sneaky tactics I’d employed to get a name out of him, he’d avoided every salvo, telling me my mystery lady preferred to remain a mystery. I’d just have to deal with it. Taco was no help either. If she’d wanted me to know who she was, she’d have told me.
Which totally sucked.
One brief moment with her had completely ruined me. Even though I’d hung out with a couple of girls since I arrived at Mountain State, none of them had turned me on as instantaneously or as intensely as my mystery lady.
From the way she’d known who Dalton was, even with his mask and suit on, I had the idea she might be one of the little sisters for the house.
Maybe that meant she’d be at this end-of-the-semester party—and not be wearing a mask.
Suddenly, the only place I wanted to be was at the SCR house.
I hopped into the passenger seat of Dally’s truck as if we were in a race.
By the time we arrived, the party was picking up.
The entire front yard was covered in rows of cornhole boards.
The boys had set up a bar on the front deck, which appeared to be the hot spot for the ladies, who were either waiting on their drinks or standing along the rail holding their drinks as they heckled the players tossing bags on the lawn.
As we walked up the sidewalk, we spotted a couple of other Wildcats players and wandered over to them.
“Cash. Dally. Figured your roomies would rope you into helping their house win,” Bax said with a grin as we shook each other’s hands.
“You were right, Dally. I’m not underdressed at all,” I said with a smirk and a nod at Bax’s T-shirt. Today’s iteration read “Your shirt has to go. But you can stay.”
Dally rolled his eyes. “You have zero shame, Baxter. Zero. Shame.”
A devilish gleam lit Bax’s eyes as he sipped from his Solo cup. “With any luck, a certain purple-haired hottie I’m dating will take the hint when we go back to my place later.”
Dally shook his head. “As I was saying. Zero. Shame.”
“You’re surprised about this why, again?” Callahan laughed and exchanged a grin with Danny, who was drinking from a cup in one hand, while his opposite arm was wrapped around Taryn. She smiled shyly at the conversation.
Taco and Dalton strolled out the front door and headed straight for us.
“Rumor has it the Sigma Nus arrived with a couple of ringers. Hope all the practice you guys got at football parties last fall hasn’t worn off over the winter,” Dalton said.
“Yeah, I play better when I’m loose.” Dally took a step in the direction of the bar. “You want a beer, Cash?”
“How is that even a question?” Bax asked.
I smirked. “What he said.”
Dally snorted something incoherent and sauntered up the front sidewalk toward the deck.
By the time he’d returned with five beers in his massive mitts, Taco and Dalton had set their sights on a couple of wrestlers wearing Sigma Nu colors.
Neither of them had even a shadow of a beard, which gave our buddies the idea the Sigma Nus were new pledges.
“Bet they rushed them just for their cornhole-playing skills,” Taco grumbled.
“Guess we’re going to find out,” Dalton replied with a narrow-eyed glare in the direction of the guys in question.
“At the risk of sounding like a dumbass, what does it matter? It’s just cornhole,” I said.
Two pairs of eyes lasered into me.
“Do you know what’s on the line here?” Dalton asked rhetorically. “The Panhellenic Cup, the most prestigious prize in the Greek system. We’re the defending house champs, but if we lose this tournament, the cup is leaving SCR for a year.”
My brows shot up. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
“We absolutely can’t,” Taco said, my sarcasm sailing directly over his head.
“The Sigma Nus recruit wrestlers and track athletes. The SCRs rush football players. The rivalry is bigger than the cup. It’s about National Championship-caliber athletic programs competing with each other through the Greek system. This is about team pride.”
When he put it that way…
“So how does this work? We declare whose side we’re on, or what?” I asked.
“You have to have one SCR on your team. Can be one of the brothers or one of the Little Rhos,” Dalton explained. “It’s why we wore our colors tonight.”
I downed a gulp of keg beer and nodded. “Got it.”
Soft, feminine laughter drifted down the street toward us, and a wild tingle rippled over me. When I glanced over my shoulder, I caught sight of Bax’s “purple-haired hottie,” another brunette with a headful of curls—and a blonde.
Somehow, I knew it was her.
I was about to meet my mystery lady.