Page 8 of (La)Crosse My Heart (Sweet Sports Kisses #7)
Jessa
O kay, so I’ve said it a few times, but we’ve got more work to do than I thought.
“These are all the dress shirts you own?” I ask, holding up the two that are semi-decent. The others have way too loud of patterns or are missing buttons. A few even have holes in them.
“Probably. My typical wardrobe is a T-shirt and shorts.”
“What about for game days? You don’t have to come in a suit or something?”
He shrugs. “This isn’t a sport where we worry about that.”
“Maybe you should, though.”
He scrunches his nose before he runs the towel through his hair. At least he went into the bathroom for a shower with clothing instead of coming out and making it difficult for me to concentrate again.
“I don’t see how that would help.”
“You’ve said the world doesn’t know the sport of lacrosse. Why not educate people?”
He purses his lips. “Do you forget why you’re here? I’m not the trailblazer. I’m just the one who wants to play lacrosse for as long as possible.”
“But don’t you see that by providing more opportunities and advocating for your sport, you’ll be helping not only yourself but others who might look up to you?”
“I don’t like it when you get ideas. That means I’ll have to do more,” he says, his tone sour.
I roll my eyes. “Again, you put in the work for your sport but a little more off the field and things get better for everyone.”
“Agree to disagree. What’s the verdict on my closet?”
“You’re a bachelor who keeps everything, even if it’s threadbare and falling apart. You definitely need a girlfriend just to help with your personal style.”
“The position is open, if you’re interested.” He laughs, and I have to turn away so he doesn’t see my red cheeks. The fact that my brain is a traitor and keeps calling up visuals of Clark without a shirt is making this even more uncomfortable.
“I’m good. I’m dating my work now.”
He laughs again. “Um, I don’t remember you asking me out, but I accept.”
I widen my eyes as my stomach drops. Why am I bumbling every bit of this today?
“Back to your closet,” I say, trying to buy me some time, “You need at least one or two good suits, a few pairs of slacks, and polos. I’d recommend some better shoes, too.
” I bend over to pick up one of the “dress shoes” in his closet, holding it up before him.
There are scuffs and scratches on both, with even a hole at the front of one, making it open a lot like a duck’s bill.
“What’s wrong with those? I’ll just get some tape and put it back together.”
I close my eyes, trying to breathe in and out before I say something I might regret.
“You’re a professional athlete, Clark. You need to look more put together than just rolling off the field.”
He’s quiet for a long moment and then says, “Fine. I might as well get this taken care of so you’ll stop bugging me about it.”
“The question is, what do you want, Clark? If you’re fine the way things are, I’ll go back to my boss and let her know you’d rather not be the face of the team. That you want to continue working at the fire station instead of having an opportunity to devote more time to your craft.”
At least five emotions flicker across his face at that.
“No, I want to do this. Need to do this.” He looks more determined than I’ve seen him since I got here.
“Okay, let’s get to the store, then.” I walk to the door.
“Right now?” he says, his words coming out choked.
I shrug. “You don’t have practice for another four hours, right? Unless you have something urgent you need to be to before then, we might as well get this done.”
“I’ll meet you outside. I’m driving though.”
I grin at him. “Not going to happen, Denton.”