Dare You To (18 page)

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I PULL MY JEEP into the student lot and park behind Chris’s car. He leans against the

bumper while Lacy stands a good three feet away from him near the hood. She holds her books close to her chest and snubs me by

angling her body toward the school when I shut off the engine. Not a good sign. I take a deep breath and ready myself. Lacy has a hell of a temper. My ears rang for two days after the last time I ticked her off.

Chris greets me when I open the door.

“She’s pissed at you, dawg.”

“I can see that.”

Before I can reach her, Lacy wheels around.

“A dare? You humiliated Beth in gym

yesterday over a dare? I’m trying to make friends with her and you and Chris and Logan have made her the target of a dare?”

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Dammit all to hell, Chris.
“You sang like a little girl with her hand caught in the cookie jar, didn’t you?”

“Sorry,” he says, repentant. “Her tactics are brutal. The Marines could employ her.”

Lacy rushes between us, her hand waving in the air. “Don’t you laugh this off. You don’t know Beth. You don’t know what life was like for her. You don’t know what type of friend she was to me. You are ruining everything!”

I stare at her, shocked. Tears swim in her eyes. She’s not just angry. She’s upset. “It’s only a dare, Lace. I asked her out. She has the choice to say yes or no. I’m not hurting

anyone.”

“Yes, you are.” She glances away. “You’re hurting me.” The girl I consider one of my best friends bolts into school.

“I gotta go after her,” Chris says.

“I know.” I want him to.

“She’s wrong about this. Don’t worry

though, I think she’s PMS-ing.”

Yeah. Lacy is emotional at times, but a

nagging in my gut tells me that she could be right.

“Ryan?”

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Chris and I both turn to see Beth. My

heart stops. It’s her. Skater Girl from Taco Bell.

Gone are the trendy clothes. Back is her own style. Skin-hugging black shirt, jeans with holes. All knee-dropping curves. She looks every bit as sexy as she did the first night I met her.

“Can we talk for a second?” Sweet and

seductive, her voice purrs over my skin and I’m absolutely hypnotized. The girl must be a magician.

“Sure.” I wait for Chris to remember that he needs to go after his own girl, but he’s too busy admiring Beth’s ass to notice that Beth and I want him to leave. I give the blatant reminder.

“Lacy needs you.”

“Yeah,” says Chris like he’s waking from a dream. “Lacy. See you later, dawg. You too, Beth.”

She drums her fingers against her thigh as a dismissal. Chris wanders into the building while I try to understand Beth’s attitude switch.

Yesterday, the girl would have been the main suspect in my murder. This morning, she’s hot and friendly. Talk about mood swings.

Guilt becomes a whisper in my brain. I

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humiliated her at school. Time to make

amends. “Yesterday, in gym—”

“Whatever.” Beth cuts me off. “I was

thinking that you’re right. I should make friends and I’d really like you to be the one to help me.”

Can.

I suppress the smile edging onto my face.

No need to rub it in. Why couldn’t Lacy be here to see this? “You’ll go with me to the party on Friday?”

“Yes, but there’s a catch.”

“What type of catch?” I should be focusing more on the word
catch
, but I can’t when Beth nibbles on her bottom lip. I love those lips.

“My uncle is a little control-freakish and he’ll want to talk to you.”

This day keeps getting better. I win the dare and I get to talk to my hero. Plus, I get to spend time with Beth. Maybe Lacy’s right. Maybe there is more to her. “Sure. I can come by early on Friday.”

Beth readjusts the pack hanging on her

shoulder. “Actually, I was wondering if you could come over tonight and meet him. Maybe we could hang out after.”

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I love my life. The girl is asking
me
out.

“Yeah, sure.” Damn. My mind becomes chaos as I remember my plans. “Wait. I would love to, but I have ball practice with the team and then pitch practice in Louisville tonight.”

She lowers her head. “Oh. Okay, I guess. If you can’t, you can’t, but tonight’s the only night Scott’s going to be home.”

I am not blowing off this change of heart. If she’s anything like Lacy, she could have a total mood reversal in three minutes. “I can come over after ball and meet your uncle and then you could ride with me into Louisville. We could go out to eat after practice. That is, if you’re okay with sitting through an hour of me pitching.”

She raises her head and flashes this glorious smile. “If you don’t mind.”

Mind? I can’t think of anything I want more.

I just won the dare.

STANDING ON SCOTT RISK’S front porch, I

yank the bill of my baseball hat and wipe my hands on my athletic pants. This is it. I’m about to walk into my hero’s home. Two

knocks and the door swings open. Staring back at me, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, is Scott
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Risk.

“Good afternoon, Ryan.” His eyebrows rise to give the impression he’s surprised.

“Good afternoon.” I rub the back of my head when the tension starts to form in my neck. “Is, uh, Beth here?”

An easy grin spreads across his face. “She’d better be, but I did just piss her off. It might not be a bad idea to check to see if she snuck out the window.”

Having no idea what to say back, I shove my hands in my pockets. He laughs. “Elisabeth and I don’t work well together on her

homework. Come on in. She said you two

made plans, but I have to admit I was

wondering if she was messing with me.”

“Is she ready, Mr. Risk?” Amazed and

starstruck, I walk in. This place is huge.

“Call me Scott,” he says, then hollers,

“Elisabeth!”

Something hard smacks the door to our

right. “Fuck you!”

I sigh heavily and a knot forms between my shoulder blades. The pendulum swings on the mood spectrum. Guess we’re back to crazy.

Can’t wait to see what Friday night will bring.

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“You have company!”

Silence. The door squeaks as it slowly

opens.

“Hello, Ryan.” Beth rests her hip against the door frame and my heart stutters. She changed from the T-shirt to a black tank top, exposing a hint of beautiful cleavage. “See. I told you he stares.”

Damn. I do. And I did it right in front of Scott Risk.

Scott claps my back. “It’s okay. But try not to stare too hard in front of me. At some point I’ll stop finding it amusing and might have to kick your ass. And Elisabeth?
Fuck
isn’t allowed.”

She shrugs, clearly not caring what’s

allowed.

“Get yourself together,” Scott says to Beth.

“I’m going to talk to Ryan for a bit, then you can go.”

Beth glances at her clothes. “I am together.”

“I see skin. Lots of it. Come back out when there is less skin.”

She sighs and does this slow pivot. As she walks into her room her hips have this easy sway that makes me stare—once again.

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“I received something yesterday that

you’ll appreciate.” Scott crosses the foyer to the room opposite Beth’s and motions for me to follow.

The moment I enter the large office I’m in awe. Baseball. Everywhere. Jerseys in glass frames. Balls. Bats. Cards in display cases.

Scott pulls out a see-through box and hands it to me. My mouth gapes. “Babe Ruth. You have a baseball signed by Babe Ruth?”

“Yes.” Scott flashes a smile, the kind I

understand; this office is hallowed ground. The phone on his large mahogany desk rings. “Give me a sec.”

I start to head out when Scott stops me.

“Stay. This won’t take long.”

I love this man. I could spend hours in this office drooling over his stuff. Speaking in correct grammar and a business voice, Scott chats on the phone. I hover over a bat signed by Nolan Ryan. This could be my office

someday. Hell no. This will be me.

Across the room is a table of framed

pictures. Scott and Pete Rose. Scott and Albert Pujols. The picture frames are angled slightly toward the center of the table. Each person in
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the frame more important than the last.

When I get to the middle, I see a wedding picture of Scott and his wife and my respect for the man grows. He values his family.

I frown when I spot the small 4

x

7

photograph. It’s of a child and Scott. At least I think it’s Scott. I pick it up. He’s young and looks dorky wearing the old-school version of the Bullitt County High baseball uniform. He holds a girl. Barely out of toddler years. Maybe five. Entwined and pinned everywhere in her long blond hair are pink ribbons. The white fluffy dress makes her look like a princess. She has her arms squeezed tight around Scott’s neck. Her smile is contagious and her eyes are the deep blue of an ocean, almost exactly like…

“Elisabeth loved ribbons,” Scott says behind me. “Bought them for her every chance I

could.”

No way. “This is Beth?”

He takes the frame from me and gently

places it back as the very center picture on the table. “Yes.”

He says it with the heaviness of a man

mourning. Hell, I guess he is grieving. Beth is
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a far cry from the happy child in that photo.

Scott’s lighthearted tone returns. “I picked Allison up from a dinner last night and ran into your mom. She said you finaled in a state writing competition.”

My eyes flicker away. Dad must love that

everyone in town now knows. “Yeah.”

“Your dad said you’re bent on going pro out of school, but there are a lot of colleges that would die to have a pitcher with your potential.

Especially if you have academic talent.”

“Thanks.” I don’t know what else to say.

“Want to tell me what’s going on with you and my niece?”

I freeze. And that is what I call throwing a changeup. Scott loses his easygoing grin and I notice he shares Beth’s eyes. He doesn’t blink either. Time to man up. “I asked her out.”

Because of a dare. “And she said yes. She said that you’d want to meet me first.”

“Where are you taking her tonight?”

“To my pitch-coaching lesson, then to

wherever she chooses to eat. There’s a…” Taco Bell—I should skip that one. “McDonald’s and an Applebee’s nearby.”

Scott nods as if he’s processing how to

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perform brain surgery. “Where are you

taking her Friday?”

“Not far. Actually, it’ll border your property and my dad’s. My best friend lives on the other side of you and we invite friends over to hang out.”

Scott fights amusement and tenses at the

same time. “You’re taking my niece to a field party.”

I swallow.

“I grew up fifteen miles from Groveton,”

says Scott. “I know what a field party is, having attended more than a few myself.”

Busted. “I thought it would be a good

opportunity for her to spend time with my friends.”

Scott rubs his jawline. “I don’t know.”

I have to give him more. Lots more. “I like Beth. She’s pretty.” Yeah, she is. “She’s more than pretty. She’s not like any girl I’ve ever met before. Beth keeps me on the edge. With her, I have no idea what’s coming next and I find that…” Amazing. Thrilling. “Fun.”

Scott says nothing back and I’m glad. Until I said the words—words I thought I was creating to impress him—I had no idea they were true.

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A sexy voice, one I know all too well,

causes my stomach to levitate like I’m at the top of a roller coaster, then plummet. Beth heard every word. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s impolite to eavesdrop.” Scott keeps his back to her and his eyes glued on me.

“I didn’t say
fucking
kidding,” she responds.

He inclines his head to the right as if to agree that was a major concession. “When?”

“When what?” I ask.

“When are you picking her up on Friday?”

“Seven.”

“I want her home by nine tonight. Midnight on Friday.”

“Yes, sir.”

Scott turns to Beth. “What are you going to do while he’s practicing?”

“Watch.”

Scott dips his head in disbelief.

Beth sighs heavily. “Fine. I’ll do homework.

I’ll become studious and add ‘big fat dork’ to my ‘freak’ label. It’s what you want, right?”

“It’s all I dream about. Go on. Enjoy

yourselves.” He enters the foyer and Beth’s lips twist into that evil smirk. What the hell did I walk myself into?

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EVERY NOW AND THEN, FATE SMILES in my

favor. Yes, I know, hard to believe, but today is one of those rare days. Last week, Lacy told me Ryan drove into Louisville for coaching lessons on Wednesdays, and yesterday she told me that the facility is located in the south side of Louisville, sweetly tucked away a half mile from my home.

Outside of a large metal warehouse, Ryan

plucks a bag full of his baseball crap out of the back of his Jeep and I do my best to keep from fidgeting. My nerves make it difficult to stay still. I’m so close to my mom that I can almost taste the cigarette.
Be cool, Beth. This is a hand
you have to play carefully.
“How long is practice?”

“An hour. Maybe a little longer.” Ryan

slings his bag over his shoulder. I swear, this
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guy has the broadest shoulders of any high school kid I have ever met. He wears a tight Tshirt and my stomach performs tiny flips when his shirt rides up, exposing his abs.