Page 7 of The Transfer
“Well, let’s make it interesting, then.”
“What do you have in mind?” I’m trying to keep cool when my insides are fluttering a little.No, Reagan, you’re just hungry. We don’t flutter for players, remember?
“Hmm…” He looks deep in thought. “How about if I win, you give me your number?” I’m shocked, and he even looks surprised at what just came out of his mouth.
“And what do I get if I win?” I arch one eyebrow and look right at him.Am I flirting?
“Anything you want,” Riggs says. Completely serious.
My pulse jumps to overdrive, and I’m speechless.What do I want from him? That is a loaded question.
Finally, I say, “If I win, you owe me a Dr Pepper every day for a week.”
“Deal.” He winks. He freaking winks! I don’t know what it is, but a girl could get used to this version of Riggs Hart.
We have been playingfor twenty minutes and are tied at P-I. The next missed shot determines the winner. Riggs, showing off, takes a shot from half-court. It banks off the backboard in. He gives me a smile as he passes the ball back to me. “Your turn, Sunshine.”
I glare at him, and he simply smiles back at me. “That shouldn’t even count,Point Guard. You didn’t say bank.”
He tips his head back and laughs. “Sorry. Rules are rules. Just take the shot and then get ready for the sting of defeat.”
Taking the ball, I move back behind the half-court line. Running, I put all my strength behind the shot and let it fly. It looks great with plenty of distance.Oh my gosh, am I going to make it?The ball sails and bounces right off the rim.
I missed.
I lost.
I never lose.
“Son of a biscuit!” flies out of my mouth, and that gets another sexy laugh from Riggs.No, not sexy, annoying.
“Okay, Riggs. You win.” I admit defeat, and he was right, it stings.
Then I get stuck staring at him, yet again. He must hit the weight room hard and add that to playing basketball because the man is stunning.
“See something you like?” I freeze at that moment and blush. My eyes hit my shoes as embarrassment consumes me.
“Sorry. Look, I have to go. I need to get a shower before class.” I can’t look him in the eyes after ogling him like a piece of meat.
“Wait, Reagan. I was just teasing. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” My eyes slowly meet his, and it’s almost like I’m thrown back in time. I'm standing in front of a gorgeous basketball player, getting my hopes up. I won’t get caught up again.
“Okay…” He says it, but leaves out the rest of what he was going to say.
“Thanks for letting me play,” I say quickly and walk off the court and out the door.
As soon as I get to my car, I take a deep drink of water, realizing a few things. One, I never gave him my number. And two, I kind of wish I had.
SIX
RIGGS
Usually, I dislike team bonding activities, especially when they involve taking my phone away. With the need to always be reachable, it gives me extreme anxiety to be off the grid. Uncle Jake promised he would keep his phone with him in case I need to be contacted.
Everett Mills, Jordan and Reagan’s dad, offered to let the team use his cabin retreat at Firefly Overlook on Durham Lake. It’s a two-hour drive from campus, give or take.
We load into a couple of vans. It’s crowded and reminds me of my travel ball playing days. I laugh, thinking about how we would squeeze our team in one van and have the best weekends of basketball, food, and great memories.
