Page 7 of The P*ssy Next Door

What I had to do was turn myself into a love guru, and fast. Which meant I didn't have time to go out and get the amount of practice in this area that Everett had. But if I knew one thing, besides football, it was how to study. I already had a reading list a mile long on everything from flirting to the female orgasm. I'd skimmed three books this morning, and on my phone, I had a mile-long list of bookmarks for dating advice sites.

Practice today couldn't end soon enough. I'd already reviewed all the tapes the offensive coordinator wanted me to earlier in the week. I was ready for the game against the Rebels because I was always prepared. One more walkthrough of the plays wasn't going to make me a better player tomorrow. But I had enough discipline and focus to pay attention until Coach dismissed us.

After a shower and a shave, because stinky ballplayer was not the scent to make a good impression with, I snagged my bag, ignored the chatter around me, and headed straight for Willa's family’s coffee shop.

I rehearsed the conversation in my head, discarding every attempt at a smooth pickup line as soon as they formed.

“Hey, beautiful, got any coffee for a tired athlete?”Not enough pickup. Flirt level one.

“Can I get a shot of espresso and a shot at dinner with you?” Too forward. But much higher on the flirtablilty scale.

I parked and then pulled up the list of pickup lines from some dating coach. One popped out at me immediately. “If I were a cat, I'd spend all nine of my lives with you.”

That had distinct possibilities given the way we'd met this morning. Except it was entirely too cheesy. I unbookmarked the site on my phone and made a mental note to find some better resources later.

By the time the bell announcing my arrival jingled above the coffee shop door, I had settled on nothing more than a simple hello.

Willa was behind the counter, her hair pulled back in a casual ponytail, wearing an adorable frilly apron that emphasized the curve of her hips, and her smile lit up the room as she chatted with the person in line ahead of me. I cleared my throat, trying to appear casual as I approached the counter.

“Hey, Willa.”

Okay, good start, good start.

She looked up at me and grinned, and I swear her cheeks got a little pinker. Was she thinking about this morning? I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. “Hayes. What can I get for you?”

I fumbled with my wallet, pulling it out as if it held the script to this encounter. “Uh, just a coffee. Black.” Great, Hayes, real smooth.

She raised an eyebrow but turned to make my coffee. “Thought you were more fun than boring-old, plain black coffee. That's what Xa... uh... don't you want something more exciting? I pegged you as a caramel macchiato kind of guy.”

Crap. Boring was bad, and she'd definitely almost compared me to her brother. Which was the last thing I wanted. “Yeah, sure. The caramel whats-ee-ah-toe sounds... fun. Gimme that.”

“Fun is good,” she said with a nod, her voice playful. “Fun can be really good.”

I leaned on the counter, trying to muster the Kingman charm I knew was buried somewhere deep inside me. “So, I was thinking, maybe, you know, we could...”

Willa handed me my frou-frou drink with whipped cream and then gave it another squirt of caramel on top in the shape of a smiley face, her eyes twinkling very distractingly. “We could...?”

Oh, yes, we could indeed. I stared into those gorgeous eyes and forgot that anything else in the world existed for a moment. But her eyes got wider and she tilted her head like a puppy that's wondering what the hell you're doing.

Shit.

“Hang out? Sometime?” I blurted out, immediately wincing at how juvenile that sounded. Real fucking smooth. We weren't in junior high.

Her eyes went from are-you-okay to are-you-serious real fast. Good god. I'd better just turn and walk away to drown my dumb ass in my fancy-ass cup of coffee. Somehow my feet did not get the message my embarrassed as shit brain was sending.

A smile slowly spread across Willa's face. “Hayes Kingman, are you asking me out?”

Lifeline, lifeline. Catch it you fool. This message brought to you from your dick who'd like to get wet some fucking day and your ass who is feeling really fucking lucky to be saved by the pretty girl who threw us said lifeline.

“Yes?” It came out as more of a question than I intended. I took a deep breath, straightening up. “I mean, yes. I am.”

Willa leaned in a bit, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, for a big, tough football player, you’re pretty cute when you’re nervous.”

My heart thumped hard trying to jump up and out my throat, but I managed a chuckle to push it back down. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe.” She winked at me.

She.

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