I Dare You Read online Ilsa Madden-Mills (Hook Up #1)

Categories Genre: Angst, College, New Adult, Romance, Sports, Young Adult Tags Authors: Series: The Hook Up Series by Ilsa Madden-Mills
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Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
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She nods, presenting him with the little carry basket she’s hooked on her arm. She shows him a handful of Snickers and a six-pack of Dr. Pepper. “Can…I…have…them?” Her words are drawn out.

I glance back at Maverick to see a soft expression on his face. “You can get them, but you know the rule: only one each per day. Too much of that and…”

She nods. “My…teeth…will…fall…out.”

I look from one to the other, thoroughly confused. Who is she?

He glances back at me. “Delaney, I’d like you to meet Raven—my sister.”

Oh. She does a slow blink then comes toward me, and I notice her leg hitches a bit as she moves. She takes my hand in a limp shake, her expression unsure, as if she’s not certain of the etiquette.

“Girlfriend?” she asks, her eyes going from me to him.

Maverick grunts. “Too personal, Raven.”

She shrugs and drops my hand, almost sizing me up. “Need…a…girlfriend…so…you…stop…worrying…so…much.”

Hmmm. What does Maverick have to worry about?

“Nice to meet you,” I say. “And, Maverick and I are just friends.”

She squints, looking disappointed. “Oh.”

“We have a class together,” I tell her.

“Where she mostly ignores me,” Maverick adds.

I laugh.

Raven studies me and gives her temple a little tap with her index finger. “Nice…to…meet…you. My…head…is…wonky. I…tell…everyone…so…they…know.” She shrugs indifferently.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, not quite sure how to respond.

“Don’t…be.” She smiles sweetly at nothing in particular, her gaze drifting off. “Mav…olives…please?”

He nods. “Of course, get whatever you want. Meet me back at the front to check out, okay?”

She nods, and without another glance at me, moves down the aisle.

I’m watching this in fascination. Maverick has a sister…a sister with special needs…and he adores her—it’s obvious in the softness of his eyes as they follow her.

He turns back to me. “What?” he asks, and I guess he’s reading my face.

I shake my head. “You’re such a surprise.”

“Yeah?”

I nod. “Is she the reason the highest-rated defensive player in the country decided to stay home and play for the local college?” It’s no secret that Maverick received ESPN’s highest ratings and was courted for scholarships from the big schools like University of Alabama and Georgia. I’ve even heard he promised himself to a big SEC team, but at the last moment decided to stay in Magnolia and play for Waylon—which, admittedly, isn’t a horrible team, but it doesn’t have the same prestige the Crimson Tide does.

“Yeah. It happened in a car accident my senior year that also took my mom. It…changed a lot of things for me.”

His countenance is full of melancholy, an emotion I recognize because I have the same darkness inside of me. Anyone who’s lost a loved one knows it. I nod. “I lost my parents at age ten in a car wreck. I get it.”

He straightens and gives me a surprised look, almost as if he’s restructuring how he sees me. “I never would have known it. You seem so…adjusted.”

I huff out a laugh. “Thanks?”

“You know what I mean,” he says with a little smirk. “You’re a good person, Delaney. You’re always kind and sweet and…” He stops talking and shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m talking too much.”

I clear my throat, easing over the awkwardness. “Anyway, my Nana took me in and raised me. I’d just graduated high school when she passed from a bad heart. Sometimes I think she waited until I was old enough and then just let go.” I don’t know what it is about this guy, but suddenly I’m opening up to him.

He nods. “That must have been tough.”

I shrug, playing off my grief, but when I look back up, there’s this look on his face like he gets me…like he’s been there a million times before and—

God.

Stop, Delaney. Just stop. No more football players.

I recall the words Martha-Muffin just spoke to me: Athletes screw around—it’s what they do.

I clear my throat and move closer to my cart, wrapping my hands around the handle, anchoring myself, because Maverick makes me feel like I might toss aside everything I think about football players and give him a chance. “Look, you’re a great guy, and thank you for the offer of hanging out, but it’s best if we keep it simple.”

He studies me. “You’ll change your mind.”

My chest rises rapidly, and before I can formulate a snarky reply his sister’s voice drifts toward us from down the aisle, calling to him, and he waves back at her.

“Guess I have to run. Later,” he says, and then just like that, he’s walking off—and damn if his ass isn’t fine.

I let out a sigh and push my cart to the front to check out.

Maverick

“She’s…pretty,” Raven says as we get in my silver truck, ten-year-old Toyota I bought with my own money when I was sixteen. It’s seen its fair share of dings and scrapes, but it still runs like a well-oiled machine. Someday when I’m playing in the NFL, I’ll buy something sharp, but for now, I can’t think about that. One day at a time is all I can handle.


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