Page 75 of Scoring the Player
I shove the club in my bag and head toward him. When I get within ten feet, he pushes off the car and stands tall.
“Hey.” He shoves both hands in his pockets. It looks like he came straight from his own practice. Black athletic pants and a gray Valley U Football T-shirt. His dark hair is a little messy and windblown. He’s still the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.
“Hi,” I reply tentatively, looking around for some explanation for his appearance at the campus golf course. “What are you doing here?”
“You said I couldn’t come to your tournament, but you said nothing about watching you practice.” His grin is wolfish, and my stomach does a little flip.
“Yeah, well, it extends to practices.”
“In that case, your coach called practice fifteen minutes ago, so technically, I’m just a guy hanging at the driving range watching some badass girl hit the fuck out of a golf ball. You gave me goosebumps a couple times.”
“How long have you been here?” I know my face must be bright red because it’s on fire.
He chuckles. “Long enough to be impressed.”
“Why?”
“You’re amazing.”
I shake my head. It’s fuzzy with his presence and compliments. “I mean, why are you here?”
“I didn’t hear from you today. Wanted to make sure you were alive.”
“You’re here for a wellness check?” I feel one brow lift.
Felix laughs again, this one silent but shaking his chest. He removes his hands from his pockets and steps closer. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I was going to work at the design lab. Why?”
“Hoping you could hang out. The rest of my week is slammed with practices and meetings.”
“I have a design I need to finish for tomorrow.” I’ve never wanted to blow off homework so badly. “Maybe I can finish in an hour or two and then we can do something?”
Something like kiss until my lips hurt again. I’ve missed that feeling.
“I have to crash pretty early. Coach was pissed at practice tonight and called an extra workout for tomorrow at the ass crack of dawn.”
“Bummer.”
“Yeah.” He nods slowly. “Can I drive you home at least?”
“I live down the street,” I say, fighting a smile. I can actually see the house from where we’re standing.
Felix waves a hand toward my abandoned golf bag. “You’ve got all those heavy clubs.”
He walks with me back to get my stuff. Taking my bag from me, he groans. “Fuck. They are heavy.”
“Maybe you’re just weak, Walters,” I tease.
With that, he hooks the bag over one shoulder and then scoops me up, carrying both me and the clubs across the range.
“Oh my gosh, put me down. People are staring,” I whisper-hiss.
“No can do, hot stuff.” He tips his head toward Harper and a few of my other teammates who lingered after practice. They watch with surprise and amusement. He raises his voice to speak to them. “Everything is fine. Don’t worry. She just got a little weak in the knees at the sight of me. Isn’t that sweet?”
“Oh my gosh, Felix.” I hit him playfully in the chest.
His smile is broad as he stalks away. He doesn’t put me down until we’ve reached his car. I adjust my skirt that rode up as he carried me and straighten my tank top.
