Page 20 of I Want to Know What Love Is

“Respect? She’s the one flirting. I think she likes jocks.”

“She’s joking around, toying with you. Trust me, she wants nothing to do with a bunch of hormonally overcharged crass college jocks.” I’m fairly certain I’m right.

“I don’t know,” Jasper says. “I wonder why she’s so friendly. Why fool with the jocks if she doesn’t want anything to do them?”

“Maybe because she’s a jock too, asshole.” I shouldn’t allow the anger into my voice, have no right to it, so I smile.

“She’s clearly a ball buster supreme,” Dooley says. “And I have to admire that.” The guys agree.

“I admire her long legs,” Bane says, still not done annoying the hell out of me.

“If she didn’t look like a supermodel, she might actually fit in like one of the guys,” Shelby says. And they all agree with that, too.

But I wonder what’s going on with her. She’s not one of the guys, but she’s new to the area and there aren’t too many female coaches her age to hang around with. In fact none come to mind. She’s a coach, a professional, and according to my googling, she has some serious creds to back her up, as a teacher, coach, and a player.

And then there’s the wedding that never happened. Does she have a broken heart?

My chest tightens. I hope to hell not.

Chapter Eight

Amanda

Either I’m unlucky or the universe and karma are conspiring against me because that’s the only explanation for coincidently running into Dylan Jones and company at Wildbeast Pizza. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m stalking him. Because I sure as hell am not. And he better not be interested in my star player, Emily.

Not that I care.

I sigh as I bend to embrace Paul and fluff his fur. “I need a quick date with someone to take the edge off, Paul. You think you could fit into a suit and tie and give it a go?”

I slip my phone from my bag before I sit down, before I fire up my laptop, before I think another thought about how Dylan had command of his team, about his hypnotic accent when he called my girl Emily sha. She’s too shy and innocent to handle the likes of Dylan and his brand of charm—too easy and too real. I should know and I should also know better. Before I waste another brainwave on the image of him standing in the locker room with that heart-pounding smirk daring me to—

“Mandy? Everything okay?” My sister answers the phone the same way she always does when I call, as if I only call when I need something. Well, maybe I do need something this time, but still.

“Everything is swell. Unless you count the fact that Gary—my ex, maybe you remember him?—invited me to his wedding and I need a date to bring with me, preferably someone who will knock the sly gossiping smiles from everyone’s faces.”

“What? Gary called you? After all this time?”

“Yes. He apologized and I’m going to his wedding.”

“You’re going to his wedding? Why the—”

“Long story, but I’m doing it, so no need for a discussion of the wisdom or stupidity of my decision. And no, it wasn’t impulsive.”

She laughs. “You have balls, Mandy, but then you always did.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“The name and number of a suitable hunk with half a brain to bring to the wedding—and he has to be over thirty.” I add the last part because I need to spend time among older people. One week on campus and I’m already getting overwhelmed by all the young hormones of the students barely out of their teens. “I need to stop any gossip-thirsty wedding guests before they say hello. I don’t want one single sympathetic twitch from anyone. Besides, you wouldn’t want me to be dateless at a wedding.”

“No, but in truth, I wouldn’t want you going to God-awful Gary’s wedding either.”

“Too late. I said we’re not discussing it. So who can you fix me up with?”

“Really? You’re finally giving me free rein? Mom will be shocked that you finally realized you suck at picking men.”

“I’ll ignore that last comment because it’s not a fix-up. Not exactly. I just need someone to bring to the wedding.”