Blindsided (13 page)

He rolls his eyes. “Watch me.”

“Ooo-kay.”

He leans forward, concentration etched on his face, and fires off a round of bullets, hitting some targets and missing some. I stand by, idly watching him, my hands clasped together. After another few shots, he turns to me.

“I’ll help you.”

“Okay.” I shrug and get behind the gun.

He stands next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. His hands cover mine and his fingers ease mine into position as he breathes right near my ear.

It’s always been obvious how fit he is, how much muscle is packed into his body, but it’s not until now, with that muscle against me, that I can feel how solid it is. How toned every part of him is. Even with his stomach pressed against my side, I can feel all the dents and dips of the six-pack that’s clearly there, and I force myself to let out the sharp breath I just took.

Those pesky hormones.

“Like this, aim, and pull the trigger. Got it?”

“Got it.”

I line the barrel of the gun up with the first target and flick my eyes to the others. I pull the trigger and hit the first one, and the second, and the third, and every one until the first ten are down.

“Like that?” I turn my face toward Corey’s. His mouth is open and he’s staring at me in disbelief.

His mouth is open and he’s staring at me in disbelief. “What the fuck did I just see?” he mumbles.

“Surprise!” I laugh. “Favorite place on Earth.
My
grandpa taught me how to do this game when I was six.”

He stands, releasing me, and rubs one of his hands down his face as he goes back to his rifle. “I’m not sure if that was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen or the sexiest.”

“Probably both.”

“Now who’s got a big ego?”

“Yours is rubbing off on me, clearly.” I look over to bright, blue-green eyes.

“So many things I could say to that. So many.” He shakes his head slowly.

“None of which are fit for Disneyland.” I fire off the last of my bullets, hitting more targets than he did, and grin.

“I thought that was supposed to make me feel better,” he grumbles as we walk away.

“It was. I didn’t realize you were so crappy.”

“I’m not crappy. You’re just scarily and sexily good at that.” He shakes his head. “I’m picking next.”

“As long as you pick food.”

“Okay. Pizza?”

“What kind?”

“Pepperoni, of course.”

L
eah runs her tongue around her mouth and licks off the sauce at the corner of her mouth.

I’m fucking mesmerized by the movement. Slowly, she traces her bottom lip then wiggles the tip of her tongue to catch the lingering sauce. She misses, and I reach across the table to her. I swipe the sauce with my thumb, smirking, and meet her eyes.

“Move your thumb before I bite it,” she mutters, looking down at my hand.

“You’re a biter?” The words escape before I can stop them, and I know she’s going to look at me as if I’m completely hopeless before the expression flits across her face.

“Is there a sentence you won’t turn sexual?”

“‘I’m pregnant.’” I chew some pizza. “I’d run a fucking mile. And then some.”

“Can you picture the headlines? ‘Corey Jackson, dad-to-be, finally runs more than five yards!’”

I stare at her across the table. “You’re real cocky. You know that, darlin’?”

She grins and runs her finger along the piece of pizza she’s been picking at. Her finger is covered in sauce as she lifts it toward her mouth, and my eyes gravitate there. She closes her lips around her fingertips and sucks. Hard. Her cheeks hollow a little—and fuck.

I shift in my seat. I’ve truly never wanted something I couldn’t have. As a kid, I had everything I could dream of thanks to my father’s success, from game consoles to bikes to the latest sneakers. As a teen, I was the quarterback on my high school team. Then again at college, which made me the guy to be seen with. If I wanted the cheer captain, she was mine—and her sister was once, too.

When I came to L.A. four years ago and broke out as the rookie to watch, I became the guy to bag. I was at the top of every girl’s fuck list—because here, sometimes the only way to get to the top is to fuck your way up. None of them considered that, if they’d give it up that easily for me, they’d give it up for another guy, too, so the only up they were going was up my dick.

I’ve sure enjoyed them trying though. The seductive glances and sex on tap has been good. It’s an easy life outside of football, but no one’s even come close to getting me for more than a quick fuck.

Except the girl opposite me. Because she really is one in a fucking million.

“Corey? Hello?” Leah throws a piece of pepperoni at me.

“What?” I meet the soft, blue eyes regarding me curiously.

“You were looking like you wanted to eat me, so I thought it would be polite to remind you that you’ve just finished your lunch.”

“I’m always hungry.”

“I wouldn’t taste very nice, I’d imagine.” She stands and we leave the restaurant.

“You taste fuckin’ incredible, babe. Don’t doubt that.”

She blushes.

She actually blushes.

“Are you blushing?”

“No!” she insists, hitting my arm lamely. “You just caught me off guard, Corey
.
”

I love the way she says my name. It rolls off her tongue in a crazy mixture of exasperation and seduction that shoots right through me. Every single time she says it, I want to grab her and kiss her until all she can think of is the feel of my mouth on her. I want to take her home and hold her under me until the only thing she can say is my name.

I want to do so many things to this girl, and fuck me if it isn’t killing me not to.

“Isn’t it my turn to pick what we do now?”

“No.” She flicks her fake, brown hair over her shoulder. “You picked lunch.”

“Actually,
you
picked lunch, and we decided what to eat together, so it’s my turn.”

“Damn, you’re right.” She sighs. “What are we doing?”

Nothing suitable for this park.

“How about the Haunted Mansion?”

“Er…”

I walk backward in front of her, my eyes trained on hers. “C’mon, babe. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a haunted house designed for kids who can only just write their own names.”

“Obviously not.” She folds her arms across her full chest, pressing her tits up. “Let’s go to the haunted house, then.”

We get on the monorail to the New Orleans Square section of the park. She ignores me the whole time, and I can tell she’s not a haunted house kind of girl. She’s too put together, too girly, too… Not a shooting kind of girl either, but she royally kicked my ass at that.

I have to stop making assumptions about her and just take it as it comes, even if that freaks me the fuck out. She’s marching to the beat of her own drum, and I love it and hate it.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she mumbles, looking up at the ragged building in front of us.

“You’ve never been in here, have you?” I smirk.

“No, and I never intended to be.”

I push the door open, and she edges in behind me, as close as she can be without touching me, as we walk into the foyer. The Ghost Host begins to taunt us, and the portrait room ahead of us starts to stretch as we slowly walk through. The portraits reveal fates of previous ‘guests,’ from a lady over crocodile jaws to a widow above a gravestone.

And then the lights go out with a booming clap of thunder.

Leah screams and grabs my arm. A ghostly apparition appears above us, illuminated by flashes of lightning, before it goes dark again. A blood-curdling scream rings out, making Leah scream again and scoot into my side. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and she tucks her face into my neck.

We climb into a Doom Buggy, Leah never letting me go, and begin to move. Bangs and screeches come from the doors on either side of us as we head toward the séance room. The ‘ghost’ recites the séance, and we pass through into the ballroom, where there seems to be a party or something. I don’t know—but I do know that, if Leah grips my shirt any tighter, she’ll tear it off me.

Not an altogether bad thought, but this isn’t the place I envisioned her doing that.

In the attic, there are endless pictures of a bride with different grooms. Their heads disappear one by one to the sound of a hatchet coming down, and each time it does, the girl tucked into my side flinches.

I feel like a bit of an asshole for dragging her through this.

“I think that’s the worst for this bit,” I whisper in her ear.

“You think?” she whispers back, turning her face forward.

But I’m wrong. So, so wrong. Just before we leave, the bride floats in front of us, moaning wedding vows while holding a hatchet. She appears quicker than I can blink, and Leah shrieks and moves closer to me.

I tilt my body into her and put my other arm around her. She’s actually shaking, and this is a whole different side to the girl I’m coming to know. The hard-ass, quick-witted Leah has a softer side.

And as long as that soft side is near me, I think I like it.

I rest my head on top of hers as we go through the rest of the mansion, closing my eyes so I don’t make the mistake I did a minute ago. She doesn’t need another reason to kick my ass when we get off here. Hell, she has plenty already, and I have no doubt she’s gonna take every advantage of them.

Screams ring out from the others in the buggies. She moves even closer to me, gripping me more harshly. I tighten my arms around her for the last few seconds before we get out of the buggies, and when we do get out, she runs out of the mansion.

She.
Runs.

“You’re an asshole!” she cries, her hands clasped to her chest. “I can’t believe you made me do that.”

Her eyes are wide and shocked, and I want to laugh at the way she’s shaking her head. But I don’t. Instead, I apologize. Again.

“I’m sorry.” I hold my arms out. “I didn’t think it would be that bad.”

She takes a deep breath. “Bad? Bad? I nearly peed myself in there!”

My lips twitch.

“Don’t you dare smile at me, Corey Jackson! Just when I was thinking you weren’t the world’s biggest jackass, you put me in there!” She points angrily at the house.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am!”

“No, you’re not. You’re loving this.”

“Is it wrong if I say I am a little?”

“God! Are you twenty-four or fourteen?”

“Twenty-four with a mental age of fourteen.” I wink at her and she clicks her tongue.

“There is only one thing that could possibly even this out.”

I watch as she heads back toward the monorail and gets on. “Leah!” I jump on after her.

I’m feeling a little anxious at the determination shining in her eyes. She definitely strikes me as the kind of girl who gets her revenge in the most evil way possible.

“Leah. Leah!” I scramble after her at downtown Disney. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

I have a horrible feeling that I don’t want to see.