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Carson Hunt slapped hands and bumped fists as he walked through the football house. The party was under way, and half the team had already shown up, in addition to the five guys who lived there. Plenty of women had arrived, all looking the same, in Carson’s opinion. Short skirts, tight tops, layers of makeup. And they were all after one thing. Football players.
The music thumped, the big screen TV blared, and pizza covered the kitchen table and most other surfaces in the front room.
“What’s up, Carson?” said Baker, a burly lineman who was already getting interest from pro scouts. “Decided to hang with the dogs, tonight?”
Carson laughed as he paused in the kitchen. “I’m only here for a minute. Have you seen Devon?”
Baker made a show of looking around, then he swung his gaze back to Carson. “Nope. But I’m sure he’ll show up with a chick on his arm.”
Carson nodded as if it was no big deal to wait for Devon, but inside, he was seething. Devon might be a great quarterback, but he wasn’t infallible. Carson was the TA for Devon’s biology class, and today, he’d been grading papers. Devon’s paper from earlier in the semester was its usual hack job, but the most recent one was excellent.
Carson was positive Devon hadn’t written it. But before talking to the professor, or the football coach, Carson wanted to have a one-on-one.
“There he is,” Baker said.
But Carson didn’t need to be told, because the front room erupted into cheers and welcomes as Devon stepped in. Even though it was early March and off-season for football, Devon was still a hero everywhere he went. Such was the power of football in Texas.
Carson leaned against the counter as he watched Devon weave through the people, stopping and slapping backs, laughing, and sometimes introducing the woman at his side. She wasn’t his usual type of date, and that made Carson curious, but he wasn’t here to check out women.
Regardless, he eyed her. She wore a blue summer dress that reached her knees, and her dark blond hair fell in waves down her back. Carson guessed it reached nearly to her waist when it was straight. And she seemed keyed up, as if she were nervous or uncomfortable. Her lips were a pale pink, and her makeup muted, making her look a lot younger than she probably was.
Devon grabbed two beers and handed one to the woman, but she shook her head.
Huh.Interesting. A college girl who didn’t drink? Especially one with Devon?
Devon was almost to the kitchen, and Carson planned to corner him and demand answers. Carson might have played his four years at another university and transferred here for the master’s program, but he was loyal through and through to the football program. He knew the work that went into running a college sports program, and he wouldn’t let Devon stain the reputation of the school, no matter how good of a player he was.
Instead of coming into the kitchen, Devon veered to the right, toward the staircase. He was taking his date upstairs.
Not on Carson’s watch. But by the time he made it through the crowd to the base of the stairs, Devon and his date had already disappeared. Wow, the guy worked fast. And the woman with him? Apparently, she didn’t mind, either.
Well, Carson was about to crash a party of two. He bounded up the stairs and followed the hallway to Devon’s bedroom. The guy had a different woman every week—the rumors had even reached Carson—but why should that bother him? Maybe it was because Devon’s date didn’t look like she’d ever been to a frat party in her life.
The bedroom door wasn’t even closed, and Devon was leaning into his date, his hand on her hip. But she wasn’t cozying up to him; in fact, she looked like a deer staring into a pair of headlights.
“Devon,” Carson said.
Devon’s grin was lazy when he turned his head slowly. “Carson. Glad you could make the party, but I’m busy here.”
Before Carson could say one word of explanation, Devon swung the door shut in his face.
The click of the lock sent a shot of disbelief through Carson. At first, he only stared at the door, stunned into silence.
Then he heard the woman inside say, “Maybe we should go downstairs.”
Devon chuckled. “But I want you to myself.”
“No, Devon. I don’t think—”
It took Carson only two seconds to open the door with a bit of force from his shoulder. The lock would have to be replaced, but that wasn’t his problem.
Both Devon and his date turned, and Carson grimaced at what he saw. The woman had pulled away from Devon, but his large hand held her wrist.
“Let go of her,” Carson ground out.
Devon’s eyes blazed. “Get the hell out of my room, Carson. None of this is your business.”
“She said no,” Carson said. “Look at her. She looks like she’s going to puke, and she hasn’t even had a beer.”
