Page 28 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

Two Points and a Night In

Linnie twisted the ends of her curls in the bathroom mirror, debating between a knit beanie or ear warmers.

Her suitcase was already half-zipped on the bed, her Bombshells jacket folded over the top, ready for Tuesday ’ s away game in Great Falls.

She couldn ’ t believe May still felt like winter in Montana, but there it was—wind chills and all.

In the kitchen, her mom sipped tea, watching Linnie with that quiet curiosity only mothers carry. “ You ’ re really going, huh?”

Linnie turned, beanie in hand. “ Yeah. Blaine ’ s picking me up

Monday night. The game ’ s early Tuesday, and it ’ s just easier to leave from his place.”

Her mom raised an eyebrow.

“ Don ’ t worry. His parents are strict. I ’ m staying in the guest room,” Linnie added quickly, though her face flushed with heat anyway.

That earned a half-smile. “ You like him,” her mom said softly.

Linnie didn ’ t even try to deny it. “ Yeah. I do.”

Her mom walked over and kissed her temple. “ Just be safe. And smart. And layered. You freeze too easily.”

The Impala pulled into her driveway just after 8 PM, its headlights sweeping the porch. Blaine stepped out in a hoodie and joggers, looking warm and completely out of place in the chill.

“ You ready, Snow Bunny?” he teased, eyeing her thick parka and knit mittens.

She tossed her duffel bag in the back and smirked. “ If you crash this car, your mom ’ s never letting me ride shotgun again.”

“ I ’ m driving like I ’ ve got the Queen of England in the passenger seat,” he promised, buckling in. “ Or like, a baby goat. Something precious. ”

Not even twenty minutes outside of Billings, the sky started spitting snow. Light flurries at first—romantic almost—until they hit the open stretch of I-90 where it turned ugly quick. The wind picked up, gusting across the highway, and visibility shrank to a swirling tunnel of white.

Blaine slowed the Impala to a crawl. “ Montana weather, man.”

Linnie reached out, steadying her hand on his arm. “ We can turn back if it gets worse.”

“ No way. We ’ re already halfway there.”

The car inched along, the tires crunching through fresh layers of snow. A semi blasted past them, kicking slush against the windshield. Blaine gripped the wheel tighter.

“ Okay, that was terrifying,” he muttered.

They rolled into town by mid-morning, Blaine white-knuckling the wheel like he was piloting a spaceship. He parked in the visitor ’ s section of the high school field where the game would be played— small bleachers, frigid wind, and a sky that threatened even more snow.

Linnie sat bundled in her winter jacket, gloves, and ear warmers, jumping and cheering as the Bullets took the field. The Bombshells didn ’ t perform this time—it was too cold, and they typically didn ’ t come to away games—but she was there for Blaine. Always.

The game was tough. Great Falls defense was relentless. Blaine still managed a handful of beautiful catches, including one that nearly led to a touchdown—but it wasn ’ t enough. They lost by two points in the final quarter.

By the time the post-game huddle ended, night had fallen and the cold had settled deep.

Thick snow had started to fall again— heavier now, blanketing the roads, the cars, the town.

Blaine jogged over to Linnie at the edge of the field, helmet in one hand, cheeks red from windburn.

She snapped a photo of them together —him in full gear, her in her fluffy jacket, pressed into his side, gloves gripping his jersey tight.

“ Let ’ s go home,” she whispered.

They made it to the car, turned the heat on full blast, and sat in silence for a minute. Blaine stared through the windshield at the increasingly whiteout conditions.

“ I don ’ t think it ’ s smart to drive all the way back tonight,” he finally admitted, rubbing his hand through his hair.

Linnie nodded. “ We can find a hotel.”

He sighed and pulled out his phone. “ I ’ ll call my parents.”

After a long pause and some very stern warnings about curfews and safety, his mom agreed. “ One night. And Linnie better not touch the wheel.”

“ I swear,” Blaine said with a grin. “ You ’ ve got my word.”

They found a local spot called Smoked, and to their surprise, it was actually incredible—pulled pork sliders, garlic mac and cheese, and homemade apple cider that warmed them both from the inside out.

Blaine even let Linnie steal fries off his plate without making a big deal about it.

“ This might be the best part of losing,” she said, eyes dancing. “ I mean, besides the part where I get to be snowed in with you,” he said, nudging her foot under the table.

By the time they made it to the room, it was past ten. The news on the muted TV reported winter storm warnings for the region, advising no unnecessary travel. Blaine barely made it through brushing his teeth before collapsing sideways across the bed, still in sweats and hoodie.

Linnie pulled off her gloves, changed into pajama pants, and climbed in next to him.

They didn ’ t even talk. Just curled into each other, warm in the middle of a cold Montana night, while the wind howled outside like it was trying to tear through the walls.

She fell asleep with her face in his chest. He followed a few minutes later, his arm wrapped tight around her waist.

They woke to sunlight leaking through the blinds and the sound of room service trays rolling past. Blaine groaned, stretching like a cat, and kissed her forehead.

“ We ’ ll grab breakfast on the road,” he whispered.

And with hands still intertwined, they packed up and headed home.

The drive back to Billings was quieter than the one up.

The sun warmed the highways, melting the icy edges of the road, and the sky stretched wide and blue across Montana's open land. Blaine drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding Linnie ’ s knee gently like it was second nature.

Every once in a while, he'd glance over at her, sunglasses on, soft smile playing on his lips.

“ You okay?” he asked as they neared the city limits.

Linnie nodded, brushing a curl behind her ear. “ Yeah. Just... thinking about how weird it feels to go back to normal life after all that.”

He laughed. “ Normal life? You mean, football, your think jacket, my mom ’ s rules, and my sweaty cleats stinking up the car?”

She smirked. “ Exactly.”

They pulled into her driveway just past 5 PM. He carried her bag to the door and kissed her slow, one of those “ I don ’ t want to say goodbye but I guess I have to” kind of kisses.

“ I ’ ll text you later,” he whispered.

“ You better.”

By six, Blaine was in Chase ’ s basement with Logan, Chase, and a new friend Isaac.

The place smelled like pepperoni, plastic controller buttons, and Mountain Dew voltage.

Isaac had brought over his entire console setup and stacked monitors, so it looked like they were planning to launch a spaceship instead of play a few rounds of Call of Duty .

Logan passed Blaine a slice of pizza. “ So… Great Falls. That was brutal.”

“ Yeah,” Blaine mumbled through a mouthful. “ Losing by two, I can ’ t believe it. My thighs are still frozen.”

Chase snorted. “ But you were snowed in with your girlfriend, weren ’ t you?”

Blaine didn ’ t answer, just smirked and took a sip of Dew.

“ Dude ’ s gone,” Isaac muttered to the others. “ Full golden retriever mode. We ’ ve lost him.”

Blaine shrugged. “ Maybe. “ But I'm still here to wipe the floor with all of you.”

They played until the controllers felt hot in their hands and the yelling about respawns echoed off the basement walls.