Page 5 of Lucky Baller
“Number eighteen?” she questions.
“Yeah. How have you been?”
“I’m sorry, were you calling in regard to the shelter?”
“No. I called for you. To talk to you.”
“I’m afraid I’m on company time. Thanks for calling,” she says, and the line goes dead.
I stare at the screen of my phone with the alert telling me the call was ended. What the actual fuck was that? She hung up on me. Hitting the greenCall Backbutton, the line rings twice before she picks up.
“Safe Haven Animal Shelter, this is Tessa.”
“Did you really just hang up on me?” I ask.
“Landon.” She sighs, and the sound, although not meant to be sexual, goes straight to my dick.
“Give me two minutes.”
“Fine. What can I do for you, Number Eighteen?”
Normally, a woman calling me by my number is a turnoff. That’s what cleat chasers do. They just want to bag a player and hopefully be the one who gets to ride along on their coattails. However, I don’t get that vibe from Tessa. In fact, she’s irritated as hell right now. “Have dinner with me.” It’s more of a demand than a question.
“No.”
No hesitation in her voice. “One dinner. We can get to know each other.” That’s what women like her want, right? The good girls who you would take home to your mother. They want to be wined and dined. That’s not my MO, but there’s a first time for everything. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had dinner with women, but it’s usually at a charity event or is team sponsored. I’ve not been keen on the actual act of dating. Or the calling and asking thing. I think the last time that happened, it was senior prom.Great, now I’m my seventeen-year-old self.
“Look, Landon, I’m sure you’re a great guy, but I’m just not interested.”
“Tessa—” I start, and she cuts me off.
“I really need to go.” With that, the line goes dead.
“Well, shit.” I huff, letting the phone drop to the bed next to me. What’s it going to take to get to this girl? I’m tempted to call her back, but I already know what the outcome is going to be. She’s going to hang up on me for the third time today. No thanks. I need to regroup and decide what my next step is going to be.
My phone rings, and I sit up, slapping the bed looking for it, a strange feeling filling my chest. The feeling that maybe it’s her. I frown when I see Case’s name on the screen.
“What’s up, Riley?”
“Henry’s at eight.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. See you.” He ends the call. Short and to the point, but really, what else is there to say? We just spent three solid weeks together.
Looking at the clock, I have three hours before I have to meet Case. A nap is in order. Kicking off my shoes, I swing around on the bed, resting my head on the pillow, and close my eyes. As soon as I do, she’s who I see. The fire in those green eyes as she shot me down. I can only imagine that same fire is in her eyes right now. I smile at that. She’s not going to know what hit her.
Game on, sweetheart.
Game on.
At ten minutes till eight, I’m typing in the code to the back entrance of Henry’s bar. The room is quiet, except for old man Henry himself wiping down the bar.
“Landon,” he greets.
“Hey, Henry, how’s it going?” Henry is in his late sixties. He opened this bar over thirty years ago and has gained the trust and respect of the Cougars during that time.
“I’m this side of the sod, so I can’t complain.” He chuckles. “How was training camp?”
