13. Jeff #2
“Is it the same article Brandon was going on about the other day? He’s got it bad for her. Told him there was no way in hell a senior would go for him but the kid’s got balls and asked her out.”
I tightened my grip around the beer bottle. “Brandon asked Amber out?”
“Yeah, he was going on about how she singled him out for an interview and some of the older guys knew who she was and it helped his ego. Damn kid has talent, but these egos… I swear. Were we that bad when we were freshmen?”
“She said yes to him?”
He was about to answer before he stopped and ran his hand over his jaw. “You got a thing for Amber, man?”
“No. I don’t.” I took another drink and ignored the pinching in my throat at my blatant attempt of lying to myself. “She’s…not my type.”
“Didn’t know you had a type, man. No offense.” He smirked and glanced down at his phone with a frown. “My brothers are texting me. Hold on a second.”
I gladly gave him space and used the time to search for Dillon and figure out the best approach to make it clear I did not have a thing for Amber.
Yeah, that kiss had blown my goddamn mind and the way her body reacted when I touched her…
Shit. I didn’t need to get turned on in a bar.
Okay, fine, I was into exploring whatever the fuck was going on between us physically, but that was it.
I ran my hand over my face and when I opened my eyes, Dillon stood three stools away from us. Fuck. Think.
Tanner held up his phone and offered a quick apology before heading outside and I couldn’t have been happier. This was it. My time to get some info. I finished my beer and waved at the bartender to order another. Dillon glanced in my direction and I nodded at him. “Hey, you gotta second?”
He looked real confused and glanced at his friends before scooting down one stool.
I knew he recognized me. He had the familiar widening eyes and little nod to himself.
I wasn’t one to let local fame mess with my head, but I was photographed and on numerous campus billboards.
If I was ever going to use my clout beyond getting easy hook-ups, this was it. “Dillon Cage, right?”
“Yeah. What’s up, man?”
“Just ordered a couple beers. One’s for you if you can help me out.
” I flicked my gaze to his friends and they all watched us, eager for something.
They dressed in a typical frat guy uniform of khakis, polos and a sweater, boat shoes and the same smug and eager expression on their face. “You guys heading out after this?”
“There’s a huge party at Gio’s.”
“Oh shit, that’s right. I forgot they did that in January.
” My mind went to the year before, where I’d had a hell of a time doing shots with some international chicks.
I’d given the bouncer their names and they’d showed me all night how thankful they were.
Shit! The list! An in! I looked at him over my mug, hoping I didn’t come across weirdly excited. “You all on the list?”
“There’s a list?” His face blanched and damn, I had my ticket. Go me!
“Yeah. They broke some codes two years ago and had to limit the number of people and no offense, dude, they are letting chicks in over you.”
“Fuck!” He hit his fist on the bar and I swooped in.
“I need you to answer three questions for me and if you do, I’ll get you in.” I knew the bouncers at Gio’s really well and would promise them whatever I had to get this information. “What do you say?”
Dillon scanned my face, his own expression full of doubt, before he said, “You can really get us in?”
“Dude, yeah.” I took another drink and asked the first question. “You played on the baseball team for a little bit a couple of years ago, right? I thought I heard that.”
“I didn’t play, but I was on it for like a fucking second.” He made an annoyed face and glanced at his watch.
“What happened?”
“Is this the second question?”
Oh, he’s a smartass. “No, it’s a follow-up. Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m answering your questions, Maddow. Remember that.” Dillon narrowed his beady eyes and puffed out his chest.
Seeing as I’d faced players who wouldn’t hesitate to pitch a fastball at my body to send a message, this punk ass was the furthest thing from a threat. “I can get you and your boys off any list as fast as I can get you on them. Now explain what happened.”
“Fuck,” he whined and ran a hand over his face like I’d told him all the beer in the world was gone.
“I got injured and was told not to report back. Didn’t want that life anyway with all the restraints.
” He glanced at his friends and back to me with a light-red blush creeping up his neck. “Where is this coming from?”
“Did you get to meet the entire coaching staff?”
He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. “No. Just…a couple of them. I can’t remember their names.”
“If I showed you a picture of one, would you recognize him?”
“I don’t fucking know. Maybe? Why do you care?”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I opened my phone and pulled up a picture of Martin Rhett and showed him. “Him.”
“Yeah…I remember him. He was one of the guys who met me and my dad when I arrived to campus.” He looked at his watch and sighed. “Is that it? Can you get me on the list?”
“Sure.” I sent a quick text to the guys I knew at Gio’s and showed him. “You and your crew should be good.”
“Hell yeah!” He didn’t say anything else before returning to his group and the excitement of finding out information had me buzzing with a high I hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t the same as hitting a walk-off to win a game. It was different. I needed to tell Amber.
Shit.
Amber. Her uncle.
I paid for the second beers and met Tanner outside the bar just as he got off the phone. “Hey man, I gotta head out. That cool?”
“No worries. I was about to say the same thing.”
Perfect.
I didn’t even think about texting Amber before knocking on the door in a frenzy of enthusiasm and dread.
We have a second confirmed lead. Martin is posing as a coach.
The cold air whipped around me and I hit the door harder.
It was only nine so it wasn’t like I was too late or anything.
It took another minute before the knob twisted and Amber opened the door with a surprised look on her face.
“Jeff. What the hell?”
“I gotta fill you in.”
She ushered me in but stopped me with a hand to my chest. She motioned to the living room with her chin and I followed her gaze.
I counted at least six other people on their couches and I felt bad.
“Five minutes. That’s it,” I whispered and she nodded.
We didn’t have to go through the room with everyone to head upstairs and she didn’t say anything to the group. Is Brandon there?
Woah… Okay, errant thought.
I followed her up the stairs and tried not to stare at her tight black leggings and how they hugged her ass. She wore a large sweatshirt that hung off her bare shoulder and suddenly I wanted more than five minutes with her.
She ushered me into her room and closed her bedroom door, leaning against it with a wary expression. “What happened?”
I paced her room and focused on the information, not the tingle of desire coursing through my body at how good she smelled. “I talked to Dillon and he confirmed your uncle was one of the coaches who met him when he got to campus.”
Color left her face and she closed her eyes for a few seconds before meeting mine. There was a sadness to them, but it wasn’t as much as I thought there would be. “How did you get him to confess?”
“Bribes. He wanted in to a party and I guaranteed it if he answered three questions. The dude was a prick who cared more about partying than about my prying. To tell you the truth, he’ll probably kill any brain cells drinking than remember our conversation tonight.”
She snorted and adjusted her hair—causing her sweatshirt to lift and exposing the soft skin of her midriff. Blood surged south and I had to clear my throat to get the lust out of my voice. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged and let out the deepest sigh, looking at the floor with the posture of someone who’d given up hope. I had seen that body language a million times on the field after strike outs and instead of cheering her up with a high-five or an ass slap, I figured she would want something different.
I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, waiting until she relaxed against me.
She leaned into my hug and I rested my chin on the top of her head.
She fitted against me well, but I shut that part of my brain off and focused on her.
I would never admit it to her, but her insistence that her uncle was innocent had me hoping that maybe he was and we’d figure out someone else involved in all this.
But it wasn’t happening. While my coach was a mentor, he wasn’t a family member I had known my entire life and it still tore me up thinking he was involved in something like this. Poor Amber.
I didn’t have to ask her what she was thinking.
She spoke on her own in muffled voice with her face pressed against my chest. “He took me here when I was a freshman to do my interview with the dean. I’ve always known I’m average—my family doesn’t let me forget it—but knowing he might’ve bought or lied my way into this school is killing me. ”
Those words were like a fist reaching into my chest and squeezing around my heart, causing a continuous dull pain in there, and I had no idea how to stop it. What does this mean?