100 Proof Stud (The Darcy Walker Series) by A. J. Lape Page B

Dimples, my courage went down the rabbit hole. I stopped, mouth ajar. They were two beautiful people, laughing and enjoying life; it was a picture meant for a dang greeting card. Dylan didn’t appear overly exuberant, but Brynn was the girl-next-door—her family’s home within walking distance of his. Maybe this was something they’d pick up later. When she gripped his arm tighter, he was definitely Dylan: smooth, mannerly, with a body gifted by Jesus.
    I called fate the b-word before being jarred from my thoughts with a screaming, “Walker!”
    I swallowed and turned around.
    Don’t let anyone ever tell you an overweight man can’t find a few moves when he is so inclined. Coach Wallace booked it toward me like a bank robber out of a blaring alarm.
    Jeez, guess he figured out it was me. Shocking.
    I smiled and blew him an air kiss as I darted for Dylan’s car like a cheetah with its fur on fire. Dylan and I always felt we were connected metaphysically. Perhaps he heard Coach yelling, or perhaps he felt my heart in his throat. Whatever the motivation, he blew Brynn off like yesterday’s news, cranked his door wide, and shot halfway up out of his car.
    With a naughty giggle, I yelled, “Move out of the way, Romeo! Like now !”
    He didn’t move fast enough.
    With a huge leap, I dove headfirst into the driver’s side door, taking him with me, banging my head on the center console. Dylan caught all my weight with an “ugh.” Somehow my foot hit the chair release, and the door slammed beside us. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, as embarrassment would have it, my bum landed right smack in the middle of his face when we tumbled into the back seat.
    My backpack slid off my shoulder with a bump-bump-bump.
    I didn’t move.
    I didn’t know what to do, really. But sometimes wisdom was out on a smoke break when you needed her. All I knew was outside wasn’t safe, and inside…well, it felt hotter than the devil’s pitchfork.
    Dylan was vintage Dylan, letting out a flirty moan. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to get you in the backseat of my car for some time, but I would’ve preferred it being dark and a little more secluded.”
    “Seriously,” I giggled, wriggling toward the front. “I thought your fantasies involved barnyard animals.”
    “Like I said,” he chuckled.
    The jackwagon…I walked right into that one.
    Dylan ran his hands up and down my hips, treating my body like the happy hunting ground. I froze. Did. Not. Feel. A. Freaking. Twinge. Maybe I had a hormonal imbalance because most women would give their right ovary to sit where I was sitting. Did I need testosterone? Estrogen? I’d only recently discovered hormones, and now they’d shriveled up like a spider when it dies.
    I crawled overtop his backpack to the opposite side but felt someone pull my UGG out the driver’s side window. My legs scissored in the splits.
    “Crap,” I mumbled.
    Dylan rose up in an ab curl. “Aw, sweetheart, I don’t have a dog in this fight,” he murmured.
    Coach barked, “Walker, get out!” Only an idiot would get out. When I didn’t oblige, Coach turned his attention on Dylan.
    “Taylor,” he bellowed, flailing his arm through the window, “you’re in more trouble than she is!”
    Dylan giggled. “Holy Mother, what did you do?” he asked me. Better yet, what did you do? I thought. Brynn Hathaway was one step from needing a drool bib. A cursory glance showed her gone…smart girl.
    I kept kicking at Coach while Dylan attempted to tug me back inside. Sometimes it was easier for me to talk about personal things when Dylan and I were otherwise occupied. And Brynn Hathaway was definitely on the Must Address List.
    As Coach pulled my boot off, I spit out, “Brynn wants to go out with you.” And by the way, I stole Coach’s file and impersonated my aunt this weekend , I omitted.
    Dylan slowly dropped my leg, lounging back in his chair, looking thoughtful. Turning me around, he pulled me onto his chest and literally