Next Man Up (Making the Score #2) - Tawdra Kandle

Prologue

Zelda

“Hey. I don’t think I know you.”

I jumped, startled at both the words murmured low in my ear and the touch of a hand on my shoulder. Considering the noise level in this place, with way too many people packed into a living room, the fact that I could hear anything was a miracle. Still, I’d been standing here, jostled by drunk, laughing high school kids I didn’t know, trying to pretend that I was having the time of my life . . . until I felt the grip on my shoulder.

Way to play it cool, Zelda.

Taking a breath, I turned around, pasting on my face a smile that I hoped was both confident and inviting, covering my nervousness. “Hey. I . . .” And then words abandoned me, because the guy staring down at me . . . wow. Holy hot hunk of . . . well, hotness.

He stood close to me, holding an amber bottle of beer in one hand while the other rested on his hip, now that he’d taken it from my shoulder. Like just about everyone else at this party, he wore faded jeans, though his were paired with a gray rugby shirt that hugged the contours of his body. And what a body it was. Broad shoulders, flat stomach, narrow hips . . . my mouth went dry, and I forced myself to look up to meet his eyes.

Not that the face part of the package wasn’t perfect, too. His hair was dark brown to the point of being nearly black, and his eyes were an intriguing shade of green.

Those eyes regarding me now with interest and something else I couldn’t quite identify. Clearing my throat, I was about to give talking another shot when he spoke again instead.

“No, I definitely don’t know you. I’d remember a girl with those . . .” He paused, his gaze sweeping down me from the top of my blonde hair to the yards of leg that this sad excuse for a dress showed off. “Um, those eyes.”

I tilted my head, thinking that I didn’t quite believe that had been what he’d wanted to say. I managed to find my voice. “No, I’m not from around here. I’m just visiting for the weekend.” Scanning the crowded room, I pointed toward the corner, where two girls were chatting up a couple of other guys. “That’s my cousin, Hannah, and our friend Rebecca. Hannah and I knew Rebecca when her family lived in Lancaster, and we drove over to see her for a couple of days.”

The guy smirked. “You’re a friend of Becs, huh? Yeah, she’s very . . . popular.” His gaze rested on her for a moment before he shrugged off whatever he’d been thinking. “Sorry. I’m Eli Tucker. Nice to meet you . . .?” His voice trailed off to give me the opening to introduce myself.

“Zelda. Zelda Porter.” I held out a hand the way I’d been taught by my grandparents. Eli frowned at it for a minute before he took it, smirking as he enclosed my fingers within his warm grasp. I shivered a little as a thrill of something new and unexpected zinged up my arm.

“Zelda. I love that name.” Eli stood a little closer to me. “It fits you.”

I smiled. “Thanks. And you didn’t have to tell me who you are—we were at the game tonight. You’re an incredible player. Congratulations on the win.”

“Hey, thanks.” He rolled his shoulders. “It was a tough one, but we wore them down. Outplayed them, I guess you’d say.”

“You were the better team.” I wasn’t saying it just to flatter him. The truth was, Franklin Township had been adequate tonight. Most of the boys on the field had played with drive and a fair amount of talent. But the quarterback . . . watching him move, running the ball over the painted white lines, cranking back his arm to throw a perfect pass . . . it had been something else altogether, like glimpsing the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel after a lifetime gazing at cheap Italian restaurant murals.

But I knew I couldn’t say all that without sounding as though I was crushing on him or something. So I only added, “That touchdown in the third quarter was pretty baller. Their defense had figured out most of your moves by then, but you caught them completely by surprise when your running back took the snap and passed to you in the end zone. They weren’t covering you at