The Screw Ball (Indianapolis Lightning Book 3) by Samantha Lind (the lemonade war series .TXT) 📕

different. We can discuss it more after you’ve had a chance to think it over.”

“Okay,” I agree before we disconnect the call, even though I already know that I have no intentions of sitting down for an interview about this mess.

I stand from the couch, taking in the sight before me. Carmen’s lips are still a little swollen, and fuck does that make me want to kiss them again. “Thanks for helping me, and I’m sorry again about the kiss.”

“Anytime, Lucas. I’m not here to be a pain in your ass, even if you are a pain in mine.” She smiles up at me and fuck, there goes my cock.

“I’ll work on not being a pain in your ass going forward, how does that sound?” I suggest as a peace offering.

“Like the best news I’ve heard all day.” She laughs. “Now, go on, celebrate, responsibly,” she adds as an afterthought.

“Thanks,” I tell her before exiting her office.

Ten

Carmen

I board the team jet; we’re headed to our first playoff series against Toronto. I don’t often go with the team on trips, but there is a lot that happens around the post-season, so I get to travel with the team for these series.

I take a seat about five or so rows back from the front. From past experience, I know the guys like to spread out in the back of the jet, some sleep, some play games, or watch movies. I’ve got some emails to catch up on, and thanks to the on-board Wi-Fi, I plan to work the entire flight.

“Is this seat taken?” A deep voice interrupts my attention on my computer screen. I look up to see Lucas standing in the aisle, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t think so,” I tell him and he slides into the row, taking the seat next to me.

“What are you working on?” he questions, trying to look at my laptop screen.

“Just work emails,” I tell him, closing the lid to my computer and turning slightly to face him better. “What can I help you with?”

“Nothing specific, I just thought we could get to know one another better. We didn’t get off on the best foot when I arrived, and I wanted to fix that, now that I haven’t been a ‘pain in your ass’ as you called me a few weeks ago,” he says, using air quotes around my words.

“You have done much better staying out of trouble, although, I’ve got my eye on you,” I warn him.

“Baby, you can keep those beautiful blues on me whenever you like,” he says, winking at me.

“Your one liners won’t work on me,” I tell him, batting my eyelashes at him.

“You wound me,” he says, clutching at his heart.

“I don’t think your ego knows what it’s like to be turned down by a real woman,” I state.

“I’ve been shot down plenty of times. I wasn’t always this good looking. Hell, back in my high school days, I was the jock who looked more like one of the computer nerds. It took me awhile to grow into my sexiness,” he tells me, running a palm down his torso—his very fit and chiseled torso—that I’ve maybe seen a time or two when he’s had his shirt off. The same one I’ve got a mental image of that might get pulled up when I’m alone in my bed with a vibrator, or in the shower.

“I can’t even picture you as the geeky kid. I’d have assumed you were always the kid with all the swagger and charm.”

“Oh, I had charm.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Well, at least, I thought I had charm and game, when in reality I was so far from cool it isn’t even funny. But after my senior year, I found a love for the weight room and started working out more. I started paying attention to what I was putting into my body and the effect it had on my game. How eating too much of one thing might slow me down the next day.”

“That’s great that you were able to figure it out so early. Most guys don’t even start to pay attention to that until later in their careers.”

“I realized around that time that if I really wanted to take playing seriously; I needed to be serious about it and everything that could potentially affect my ability to play professional. I wasn’t lucky enough to have colleges recruiting me or offering me scholarships. I played my first two seasons at a community college, while working part-time and busting my ass off to keep my grades up so I was eligible to play. Once I finished my associate degree, I was able to get a walk-on spot at a larger state university, but that still didn’t come with scholarship money right away. My coach pulled some strings mid-season and got me a partial scholarship. I think that was more so that I wasn’t almost passing out on the field because I was tired all the time from working so many hours on top of studying, working out and, of course, practice and games. Once that scholarship was awarded, I didn’t have to work so many hours in order to afford to go to school.”

“I don’t think any of that is a bad thing. It taught you that if you work hard, put in the effort, that you can achieve your dreams. You just have to want it bad enough and you can make it happen.”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p. The flight attendant stops at our row, right then, so our attention is pulled from one another to her.

“Can I get either of you something to drink before takeoff?” she asks.

“Do you have hot tea?” I ask.

“We do.” She smiles at me.

“I’ll take that with some honey, if you have any.”

“We should,” she confirms. “And for you, Mr. Black?” she asks Lucas.

“Just a water, please,” he asks politely.

“Right away,” she says, heading back for her prep area. She returns a few minutes later