AlsoByLaurenBlakely

TheCaughtUpinLoveSeries

CaughtUpInUs

PretendingHe'sMine

TrophyHusband

StarsinTheirEyes

StandaloneNovels

BIGROCK

MisterO

WellHung

TheSexyOne

FarTooTempting

21StolenKisses

PlayingWithHerHeart

TheNoRegretsSeries

TheThrillofIt

TheStartofUs

EverySecondWithYou

TheSeductiveNightsSeries

NightAfterNight

AfterThisNight

OneMoreNight

AWildlySeductiveNight

NightsWithHim

ForbiddenNights

TheSinfulNightsSeries

SweetSinfulNights

SinfulDesire

SinfulLonging

SinfulLove

TheFightingFireSeries

BurnForMe

MeltforHim

ConsumedByYou

TheJewelSeries

TheSapphireAffair

TheSapphireHeist

Contents

ChapterOne

ChapterTwo

ChapterThree

ChapterFour

ChapterFive

ChapterSix

ChapterSeven

ChapterEight

ChapterNine

ChapterTen

ChapterEleven

ChapterTwelve

ChapterThirteen

ChapterFourteen

Epilogue

Bio

ChapterOne

Dani

I’lladmitit.I’vebeenoglingtodayintheocean.I’vebeencheckingsomeoneoutinthewater.But,in
mydefense,anyonewould.

Hisbodyistodiefor.
Frommyvantagepointseveralwavesaway,it’samightyniceview.
Especiallywhenthebig,broadguywiththekillersmilepopsuponhisboard,bendshisknees,and

glidesalongarollingcrestinthePacificOcean.

Likehebelongsthere.
Well,thistime.
Admittedly,he’stoppledintothewavesalotthisafternoon,butwealllandonourbuttsinthewater

nowandthen.Stayingverticalonalongboardisn’ttheeasiesttaskintheuniverse.

Besides,who’scounting?Orgawking?
Ohwait.That’dbeme,drapedovermyboard,lollinginthewaterandenjoyingtheeyecandyin

betweenmyownsessionsonthewaves.

WhenEyeCandySurferGuygetsupthere,helooksdamngood.Calm.Incontrol.
Musclesripplingandglisteningwithoceanwater.
Happysigh.
Itiltmyhead,whenIspottroubleintheformofanotherguy.Alankydudeonabatteredorange

boarddropsintoEyeCandy’swave,insertinghimselfexactlywhereheshouldn’tbe.

There’saruleintheocean—youdon’tstickyourselfintosomeoneelse’swave.
That’swhenithappens.
The board shoots out from beneath the skinny dude, and in a blur of lanky limbs, he tumbles

backwardintothewater,hisbodysmackingtheseainaloudslap.Hisorangeboardskimsthewater
onafasttrackforEyeCandy.Theformerlifeguardinmespringstolife,andasIpaddlecloser,Icup
ahandovermymouthandshout,“Headsup!”

Mywarningisfutile.Theboardishell-bentonamission—EyeCandy’shead—andasitconnects

withthebackofhisnoggin,theman’shandsomefacecontorts.Athunkringsoutabovethecrashing
ofthewaves.

I wince as the guy with the killer grin goes kersplat. I’ve been there, done that, and it stings like

hell.Poorguy.

He’s knocked into the sea, the leash on his leg keeping his own board afloat. We’re close to the

shoreandthewavesaren’thuge,soI’mnotworriedhe’sabouttobesweptouttothemurkydepthsin
awaterydeath.ButI’mnotabouttohanghereandridethenextswellwhilesomeoneisdrowning.

Ipaddleover,butnotbecauseI’vebeenadmiringhisstronglegs.Orhisbig,musculararms.Or

even his flat, sculpted, completely lickable abs, for that matter. I paddle over because I’m not an
asshole.AsIreachthesceneofthehead-whacking,theperpetratorofsurfingrudenesspokeshishead
outandscansforhisboard.It’sbobbingafewfeetaway,andheswimsoffforit.

Twosecondslater,thewhackedonepopsup,brushingabighandalonghisface,thenhiswethair.
“You okay?” I ask over the sound of the ocean. Venice Beach is home for beginner and

intermediatesurfersthankstoitsmostlymellowwaves.Fromthelooksofit,EyeCandyhasn’tspent
atonoftimehangingten.I’mnotacompetitivesurfer,either.Ijustdothisforfun,andIheadtothe
otherbeacheswhenIwantbiggerwaves.

Blinking,theguyrubsthebackofhishead.Hissurfboardbobsnearhim,soIkickcloser,reachout

anarm,andpushittohim.Hegrabsholdofit,hisstrongarmsrestingonitnow.

Thosearms.
They’renotmyKryptonite.
They’renotmyKryptonite.
They’renotmyKryptonite.
Fine,fine.They’reanywoman’sKryptonite.
“IthinkI’lllive,”hesays,andIcantellhe’sbeingsarcastic,butevensohelookslikeheshouldget

outofthewater.EventhoughI’maworld-classogler,I’vegotacaretakerinmetoo.

Soinmybestgentlebutfirmvoice,Isay,“That’sexcellentnews.Butmaybeconsiderlifeonthe

shoreforafewminutes.”Itipmyheadinthedirectionofthesand.

“Ihearthesandhasfewerflyingobjects,”hesays,hislipstwitchinginatinygrin.
Bingo.Wehaveasarcasticoneonourhands.Myfavoritekindofman.
“That’soneofitsmanysellingpoints.”
Heshootsmeasmallsmile,thenfollowsmyadvice,paddlingtotheshore.Helugshisboardout

ofthewaterandsinksnexttoitinthesand.Imakemywayoutoftheoceantooandplopdownbyhis
side.I’veseenenoughsurfingmishapsovertheyears,andeventhoughIdon’tknowthisguyfrom
Adam,Iwanttomakesurehe’sokay.

“That surfboard absolutely had it in for you. Vicious thing,” I say, leaning back to see if there’s

blood pouring out of his head. Good news—his skull’s not leaking its contents. “I think you might
havepisseditoff.”

“Hmmm.Cometothinkofit,IdidtrashtalkitwhenIwasridingawavebefore,”hedeadpans,as

herubsthebackofhisheadwhilestaringoffatthesea.Hisfaceisinprofile,andsomethingabouthis
eyes feels familiar. Tickles a spot in my memory. But I can’t place him, so he must just look like
someoneIknow.

OrsomeoneIwanttoknow.
Igivemyselfamentaldrumrollforthatone.
Withtheguysittingnexttomeinthewarmsand,hishandsonhisknees,I’mkeenlyawareofhow

bigheis.He’stallerthannormal.Broaderthannormal.BiggerthantheaverageJoe.He’snotbuilt
liketherestofusregularpeople.AsIroammyeyesoverhisarms,Inearlydoadoubletake.Because
holypatronsaintofforearms.Hisareanhomagetoarm-pornmemeseverywhere.Mymouthwaters.

“Nexttime,besuretowhispersweetnothingstoalltheotherboards,andthey’llstayawayfrom

yourhead,”Itellhiminaconspiratorialtone.“ButthegoodnewsisIdon’tthinkitdrewblood.Does
ithurt?”

Hewavesahandintheair.“Nah,Igethitallthetime.”
Ifrowninconfusion.“Byangrysurfboards?”
Helaughs,andholdsupabighand.“That’dbeafunnynameforaband.”
“Itwouldbe,”Isay,smilingtooasIshieldmyeyesfromthesunthatshinesbrightlyasitemerges

frombehindacloud.“AndI’mguessingyoudon’thaveasurfboardconcussionnow.”

He laughs. “Let’s hope not, especially since one of my biggest life goals is to spend every day

avoidingconcussions.”

“Isthatariskinyourlineofwork?”
“Itcanbe.Buthey,that’swhathelmetsarefor.”
I’mabouttoaskifhe’saconstructionworkerwhenheturnstomeandflashesasmile.Ablindingly

gorgeous one that shows off straight white teeth, and the rest of his handsome face. Damn, it’s like
staringatthesun.He’ssogood-lookingitnearlyhurts.ButI’lltakethepain,ohyes,Iwilltakethe
pain of gazing at his hazel eyes, his square jaw, his strong cheekbones, that little notch in his chin
that’ssodamnalluring.

Liketherestofhim.
That’swhenithitsme.Holyshit.Iknowthisguy.Okay,maybeIdon’tknowhimpersonally.He’s

notaformercoworker,anex-classmate,orafriendofafriend.Andhe’snotinconstruction.He’sin
thesamebusinessasme,onlyI’mbehindthescenesmanagingcontractsfortheLosAngelesKnights,
oneofthetwoLosAngelesprofootballteams,andhe’sonthefield,guidinghisteamtowardtheend
zone.

Part of me is shocked to see him here, but I don’t let on. As a lawyer, I’ve developed a helluva

pokerface,andmyjobistorollwiththepunches.

Ijustwasn’texpectingtoday’seye-candysurferboytobe...thequarterback.
That’s why he said he gets hit all the time. Because he gets slammed when his linemen fail to

protecthim—andforthelastfewyears,they’vebeendoingexactlythat.He’sDrewErickson,arising
starintheleague,andheplaysfortheotherlocalproteam,theAnaheimDevilSharks.

What were the chances that he’d be at this beach? As quickly as the question lands in my head, I

answeritformyself.Thechancesaren’tthatslim.HelivesintheLosAngelesarea,he’sathletic,and
thebeachisthemostwonderfulthingevercreated.

“Bytheway,”hesays,gesturingtothevastexpanseofwater,thewaveschoppierastheafternoon

tidetugsattheshore.“IappreciateyoumakingsureIwasokay.Thatwascoolofyou.”Heoffersa
hand.“I’mAndrew.”

Iblink,butsaynothingatfirst.
That’squiteaninterestingintroduction.NoonecallshimAndrew.He’sonlyeverbeenreferredto

as Drew. Call me Einstein, but I’m going out on a limb and guessing that the Surfing Quarterback
doesn’twanttoberecognized.Fine,Icanplaythatgame.

“I’mDani,”Isaytakinghishand.Hislargerpawengulfsmine,andofcoursehehasbighands.Of

course he has beautiful arms. His right arm delivered some impressive work in recent months. His
quarterbackratingputhiminthetoptenintheleaguelastyear,andthatwascomingoffthebenchto
replacehisteam’sstartermidway.Hehadoneofthose“wherethehelldidyoucomefrom”seasons
thatsurprisedalotoffolks.Especiallysincehewasafifth-rounddraftpick,andherodethebenchhis
firstfewseasons,butlastyearhehadachancetoshowhismettleforhisteam.Andletmetellyou,
thismanpossessessomeseriousmettletothetuneofhavingthrownonlyoneinterceptionlastseason.

Look, I happen to be in a long-term love affair with stats. I’ve gone to bed most nights with

numbersonmybrain.AndI’mridiculouslygoodwithdetails.

ButI’mnotverygoodatlettinggoofhishand.I’mstillholdingit.NotbecauseI’mstarstruck,but

becausethismanwon’tdropmyhandeither.

“Thankyou,surfangelDani.”Heshootsmethatsmileagain,andit’slikeasecretweaponhecan

useonwomen.Arayofheatburstsinsideme.Mychestflutters.AndI’mofficiallyweakintheknees.

Thatsmile.
Hisweaponisworking.Oh,it’smostlydefinitelyworking,andit’sagoodthingI’malreadysitting.

Becausethatsmilewouldknockmeonmyrear,it’ssogoddamnswoonworthy.

Heletsgoofmyhand,andInearlywhimperattheendofthebesthandshakeever.
“Ihardlydidanything,”Isay,makinglightofmyimpromptulifeguardmoment.
Heshakeshisheadadamantly.“Youshoutedheadsup.”
“Well,thatwasmyidiotalert,ofcourse,”Isaydryly.“Theguydroppingintoyourwavewasan

idiottodothat.”

But Andrew will have none of my self-deprecation. He’s intent on complimenting me, it seems.

“Then you swam over to me, and you escorted me to shore. After that, you conducted a full and
thoroughvisualinspectionofmyhead.Nowyou’relookingoutformetomakesureI’mnoteither,
one, slurring, or two, foaming at the mouth.” He lets his jaw hang open and adopts a crazed, rabid
lookinhiseyes,andIlaugh.“It’slikeI’monanepisodeofBaywatch,”hesays,withalittletwinklein
hiseye.

Ijutupashoulder.“Ha.Yes,justthinkofmeastheVeniceBeachlifeguard.”
Thenhe’snotsothankful.Norsogoofy.He’ssomethingelseentirelyasheroamshiseyesupand

downmybody,andthatlittleflutterinmychestturnsintoafull-blownswoop.Hechecksmeout,and
he’snotshyaboutit—hiseyeslingeronmychest,thenmybelly,andnowmylegs.AndIdon’tmind
beingtheobjectofhisocularattention,eveninmyroyal-bluebikiniwiththeseashellpattern.“Maybe
I’llgobackinthewaterandpraytogethitagain,”hesays,histoneflirty.

Holysmokes.DrewEricksonisflirtingwithme.AndIdon’tthinkhehasacluethatIknowwhohe

is.IfIwereabettingwoman,I’dsayhe’senjoyingnotbeingknownrightnow.He’sdiggingbeing
justadudeonabeach.

Let’sgivethemanwhathewantsthen,becausethishasallthemakingstobefun.
“Now, Andrew,” I say, chiding. “We don’t want to tempt fate, and have you get hit again by wild

surfboards.They’rematingthistimeofyear,soyoucanneverbetoocareful.”

He arches an eyebrow as he rubs his hand against the back of his head again. “Mating? These

boardsarejustflingingthemselvesateachother?”

Inod,aseriousexpressiononmyface.“Theydoitwithabandon,gleefullyhumpingotherboards

asfrequentlyastheycan.Besttobesafe.”

“Screwingsurfboards,”hesays,crackingup.Thenhewinces.
Iletgoofthejoking.“Doesyourheadstillhurt?”Iasksoftly,thecaretakerpoppingbackup.
“Nah,”hesays,butit’sthetough-guyanswer.
“Letmetakeanotherlook,okay?”
“Sure.”
Ikneelandmoveclosertohim,raisingmyhand.ThenItouchhishead.It’skindofawesome,and

weirdatthesametime.I’mtouchingastranger ’sskull,buthe’snotentirelyastranger.

“How’smyhead?”
“It’sratherbumpy.”
Hesnapshisgazeatme.“Itis?”
“Haveyoueverfeltyourownskull?”Iask,peeringathimwithnarrowedeyes.
“Sure.I’mwellawareoftheshape.”
Irubmyhandalongthespotwherehewashit.“Ihatetobetheonetobreakthistoyou,butyour

headhasgotafunkyshape.”

“Gee, thanks,” he says, laughing as the sun ducks behind a stray cloud. “Really appreciate the

compliments.”

“Look, I’m sorry.” I run my palm up and down the back of his head. He leans into my palm,

rubbinglikeacat.“You’reprobablyusedtowomencomplimentingtheshapeofyourskull.Draping
extravagantpraiseonit,andthenyoumeetme,andIinformyouit’sodd.Igetit.Youwanttotossme
intotheocean.”

Glancingupatme,hesmiles.“Idonotwanttotossyouintotheocean.”Hetakesabeat.Raisesa

finger.“However,I’dconsiderdunkingyouifyouwerealreadyinit.”

“Ha. Fair enough,” I say, as the sun reemerges, casting its warm, bright glow across the vast

expanse of sea. Near the shore, a menagerie of women in skimpy bikinis hop onto boards. Drew
doesn’tseemtonotice.

Ilikehislackofinterest.Alot.
Isitdownagaininthesand.“Anyway,youhaveverynicehair.Imean,it’swet.Butit’sstillquite

nice.”

Shakinghishead,helaughs.“You’rearealballbuster.”
Ishrugasifit’snobigdealtogiveamanahardtime.“I’vebeencalledthatbefore.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,butI’manattorney,soitcomeswiththeterritory.”
“Personalinjury?Ifso,I’dliketosuethatboard.”
“No, I practice law for—” I’m about to tell him I do contracts and deals for the Knights and its

vendors, reading and writing the fine print on nearly everything except player contracts. Instead, I
sidestep.Ifhe’savoidedthedetails,Icantoo.“Ipracticecorporatelaw.Butinmyfreetime,Iconduct
assessmentsonskullshape,andI’mheretomakeapronouncement.”

Hesweepsanarmoutgrandly.“Byallmeans.Pronounce.”
Idropmyhandandmeethisgaze.“Youhaveabiggooseegg,Andrew.Weneedtogetsomeiceon

it.”

“That’syouropinionasalawyer,orasurfangel?”
“Both,”Isay,thenIrise.“Let’sgofreezeyourbrain.”
He stands up too, and my breath catches. He’s so good-looking, and he towers over me. I’m not

short.I’maverageheight.Buthe’sathleteheight,andit’sintoxicating.There’sjustsomethingabouta
tall, well-built man that makes you want to step out of your panties right then and there, toss them
overyourshoulder,andsay...

Whoa.
Settledown,wildimagination.
Imeant,there’ssomethingaboutatall,well-builtmanthatmakesyourheartbeatfaster.That’sallI

meant.

He strokes his chin as if in deep thought. “I do like ice. I’ve often felt it’s one of those great

inventionsoftheworld.Itreducesswellingandwhenyou’redone,youputitinadrink.”Hewavesa
handintheair,liketheideajustoccurredtohim.“Like,say,amargarita.”

He raises an eyebrow, and the look in his eyes is so damn inviting. If I were insecure, I’d ask

myself if this man is actually asking me out for a drink. But I’m not that kind of a girl. I’m the
confidentkind,andIlikeconfidenceinreturn.

“Whyyes,Andrew,”Isay,battingmyeyes.“YoucanbuymeamargaritawhileIiceyourskull.”
“Insomeuniverse,somewhere,that’scodeforsomethingverydirty,”hesays,shakinghisheadas

helaughs.“Inthisuniverse,I’lltakeitatfacevalue.AndI’lltakeyououtforadrink.”

When I carried my surfboard from my nearby home to the beach this Sunday afternoon, I never

expectedadatewithasurfingquarterback.Butitsoundsdamngoodtome.Evenifhe’spretending
he’snotaballplayerrightnow.

He’splayingatbeingaregularJoe.
I drop my surfboard at the Hang Ten shop since I know the owner, Daisy, a forty-something gal

withafishtailbraidandasunshinepersonalitythatsuitshername.ItellherI’llsnagitlater.

Shepatsmyboardaffectionately,anthropomorphizingitassheoftendoes.“We’llkeepyourgirl

safeandsound.”

ThenIheadtoabaronthebeachtoplaypretend.Onlythere’snofakingtheattractionthatalready

feelsreal.

ChapterTwo

Drew

Thehot-as-sinblondbeautypointsacrossthetabletothebigredparachuteinthesky.Awomanhangs
belowitinaharness,pulledalongbyaboatinfrontofher.

“Ican’tbelieveyou’venevergoneparasailing,”Danisays,asshereturnsherfocustome,herbig

browneyeswideandsparkling.“VeniceBeachhasawesomeparasailing.Youhavetotryit.Besides,
therearenosurfboardsintheair.”

“Thatisagreatsellingpointforparasailing.AndIhadnoideatherewasparasailinghere.Ialways

thoughtofVeniceBeachasmoreofasurftown,orjustahangouttown,”Isay,pickingupmybeer
bottleandtippingsomeback.She’sseatednexttomeatthetableandwe’rewatchingthebeach.Aguy
ridesaunicycle,aparrotperchedonhisshoulder.Behindhim,apackofskateboardersinlow-slung
shortstearuptheconcrete.Someoneelseplaysthedrumsfartherdownthepath,beatingoutahippy
tune.

“It’saneverythingtown.I’velivedhereforacoupleyears,”shesays,andIcanseeherfittinginto

this sunshine life. Blond hair, brown eyes, tanned skin. Ridiculously hot body, even though she’s
covereditupnowwithatankdressshehadinhermeshbag.AtfirstIpeggedherforanactressor
model, and if that makes me shallow, so be it. She’s just fucking hot. But lawyer seems to suit her,
sinceshe’ssarcasticandlikestogivemeahardtime.Bothworkforme.I’mespeciallyenjoyingthe
factthatshehasnocluewhoIam.Fine,I’mnotTomBradyandIdon’texpectpeopletorecognizeme
all the time, but it happens enough, so it’s nice to just move in and out of crowds without anyone
realizingtheymightseemeonTVonanygivenSunday.

Which is why I grabbed my ball cap and shades when I dropped my board in the back of my

buddy’struckthatIborrowedtoday,beforegrabbingthistablewithDani.

“I’maCaliforniagirl,”sheadds.
“You’reDaniCalifornia.”
Shesmiles.“Likethesong.”
“Except, Dani died in the song,” I say, referring to the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ tune. I shake my

head.“Let’spretendIdidn’tsaythat.”

Shelaughs.“Yeah,bitofabummer.I’llerasethatfrommymemorybanks,eventhoughIlovethe

RedHotChiliPeppers.”

“Asmuchasyoulikesurfing?”
Sheleansintomyshoulderandwhispers.“AlmostasmuchasIlovemargaritas,”shesays,lifting

herglass.AsshetakesasipIcan’tseemtolookaway,becausethiswomanhasspectacularlips.

Imean,c’mon.It’snotlikeIdidn’tnoticewhenwefirststartedtalking.Evenifmyheadhurt.Even

ifmyvisionwasalittlefuzzy.Now,I’vegotmyhandonthebackofmyhead,icingthebumpwithan
icepackthewaiterbroughtover,andI’mdyingtoknowhowherlipstaste.

“Doyousurfalot?”sheasksme.
“Just started recently. Loving it so far.” Surfing is one of the few athletic activities that’s not

forbiddenbymycontract,whichiswhyI’vebeentryingtogetonthewavesasoftenasIcanthese
days.“Whataboutyou?”

“I’vebeendoingitforawhile.ItrytogowheneverIhaveadayoffandit’sbeautifuloutlikethis.

Letmeknowifyoueverwantalesson,”shesays,hertoneflirty.

“Iwilltakeyouuponthat,nodoubt,”Isay,adjustingtheicepack.“Youeverbeenhitbyaboard?”
“Afewtimes.Butnotonthebackofmyhead.DidyouhearabouttheguywhorunsWildSandSurf

Shopdowntheroad?”

“No. But wait. Let me guess.” I hold up a hand and scrunch my forehead, like I’m thinking hard.

Then,asifI’monagameshow,Icallouttheanswer.“I’vegotit.Hewashitbyaboard?”

“Yes,”shesays,narrowinghereyes.“Mr.Sarcasm.Butwaittillyouhearwherehewashit.”
“Ohman,thisisgonnabegood.”
“Itis.Becausehisnicknameis...waitforit...One-EyedJack.”
Reflexively,Icupahandovermyeye.“No.Sayitisn’tso.”
Shenods.“Itisso.Tipoftheboardhithimhere,”shesays,tappingthecornerofhereye.“Hehasa

glasseye.”

I cringe. It takes a lot to make me cringe. But I really enjoy the use of my eyes. A lot. So, the

prospectofnotseeingispurewince-worthy.“That’sreallymakingmewanttosurfagain.”Itakea
beat,thenloudlyadd,“Not.

”

“AndeveryyearonHalloweenhegoesallout.Heslathersmakeupalloverhiseyetolookfreaky.

Like,fakebloodandeverythingcomingoutofit.”

“Thatactuallysoundsmildlyhorrifying.”
She smiles wickedly. “It is absolutely mildly horrifying. But it’s a great costume for scaring

people.”

Iraisemychin.“Whataboutyou?What’syourscariestcostume?”
Sheshrugs,saucily.“Ijustgoasmyself.”
“How’s that scary?” I say, moving closer to her. This woman is a firecracker, and I’m digging

talkingtoher,andlookingather,andlet’sjustcallaspadeaspade.Theonlythingbetterwouldbe
talking, looking, and touching. Fucking would probably be quite nice too. Just saying. “You’re not
scary.You’resweet.”

Shenarrowshereyes.“Nooneevercallsattorneyssweet.”
“Ah,soyou’reashark.”
Shehumsthethemesongforoneoffilm’smostfamousvillains.“CallmeJaws.”
Ilovethatshe’ssarcasticandfunny.Evenbetteristhefactthatshe’snotagroupie.Sometimeit’s

nicetoparlaythegigintoalittlebitofattention,ormaybeafunnightout,sincethereareplentyof
womenwhowantanightwiththequarterback.Thischick?Shedoesn’tseemtohaveaclueIplayball,
andit’sfun.I’mnotcomplainingorsayingnoonelikesmeforme.Hardly.I’msimplyenjoyingthat
we’reaguyandagirlonthebeach.Ihaven’ttoldherwhatIdothough,anditseemsstrangetoleave
thatout,soIdecidetoofferasliverofit.“Justteasingaboutthesharkpart.I’minthesportsbusiness,
sosomemightcallmethattoo.”

Sheraisesherglass.“Let’sallbegoodsharksthen.”
Iclinkmybeerbottletoherglassandwebothtakedrinks.That’salleitheroneofussaysabout

work.Sheasksnomoreaboutsports,andIdon’toffer,andthat’sfinebyme.

Shesetsdownherglass,raisesherhand,andreachesforthebackofmyhead.Gently,shepushes

theicepackaside,brushingherpalmovermyheadagain.She’sgotareassuringtouch.Acaringone
too.“MaybeyoushouldgoasasexynurseonHalloween,”Isaysoftly.“Bothseemtofit.”

A sweet smile spreads on her pretty face. After a few seconds, she adds, “But that’s not a scary

costume.”

Ishakemyhead.“It’snotatall.Butyou’drockit.”
Her well of sarcasm seems to slip away from her as she as she whispers thank you. After a few

seconds,sheadds,“Ithinkyourgooseeggishistory,Andrew.”

I set the pack on the table, but she keeps her hand on me, rubbing the back of my head absently.

Fuck,thisisnice.Morethannice.It’sarousing.Hertouchstirsupotherparts.Oneother part to be
precise, and I silently curse the fact that I’m wearing board shorts. They don’t hide tents at all. But
thenagain,whocares?Ifshewantstocheckoutthepackage,I’llsaluteher.Ilikeherhandsonme.I
likehertouchingme.Hell,IlikewhatIknowofhersofar.

Shedropsherhandandfoldsbothinherlap.
Thenithitsme,whatshejustsaid—thegooseeggisgone.Thebumponmyheadhasvanished.She

might only have come along for a drink to make sure I wasn’t wounded. But I don’t want this time
withhertoend.Isitupstraighter.“Doesthatmeanyouneedtocashout,orcanyouhaveanother?”

Shesmilesandtipsherforeheadinthedirectionofthestreet.“SinceIlivejustafewblocksawayI

canabsolutelyhaveanotherdrink.Butwhataboutyou?Doyouneedtodrivesomewhere?Ican’tlet
you get into a car if you’re tipsy,” she says in a tone that tells me she’s looking out for me. I’d be
willingtobetDaniisabigsister.She’sgot“worriedoldersibling”writtenalloverher.

ButIcanhandleadrinkjustfine,thankstomysize.IlaughasIpointatmychest.“I’mtwohundred

andfiftypounds.Icanhavetwobeersanddrivesafely.”Itakeabeat,theninchcloser.“ButIdolike
yourconcern,”Isay,asIliftmyhandandatuckastrandofhairbehindherear.

“Justdon’twantanythingtohappentoyou,”shesays,hereyesneverstrayingfrommine,asIrun

myfingersdownthestrand.

“I’mnotgoinganywhererightnow,Dani.”
She licks her lips, and a bolt of lust crashes down my spine. Just from the flirting. Damn, if

touchingherhairfeelsthisgood,Icanonlyimaginewhatitwouldbeliketodoawholelotmore.
Kissher.Pushherupagainstthewall.Moldherbodyagainstmine.

“Let’sgetthosedrinks,”Isaybeforemymindandbodystraytoofarinthedirtydirection.
Wechatthroughanotherround,shootingthebreezeaboutsurfingandsunsets,themeritsofcereal

versus eggs for breakfast, and the pros and cons of driving with or without a traffic app in Los
Angeles.Wonderfully,nothingaboutfootballormycareerhascomeup.Theconversationiscasual
and comfortable. Considering the last year has been bumpy and tense, I’ll take this kind of night,
especiallywiththewaythepreseasonhasbeenabigoldmessofuncertainty.

Whenit’stimetogo,Ioffertowalkherhome.
Shegazesatme,likeshe’ssizingupmyoffer.“Yes,butjusthome.Totheporch.”Sheholdsupher

hands,almostinapology.

“I’msimplybeingagentleman,Dani,”Isay,withasmile,andthenwewalkalongtheboardwalk

andcutintotheneighborhood.“Willyoucomebacktomorrowtogetyourboard?”

“DaisyatthesurfshopwilltakegoodcareofBetty.”
Ilaugh.“Youreallynamedyoursurfboard?”
Shenods.“Daisyinsistedonit.Shesaidallboardsshouldbehumanized.Somine’sBetty,andshe’s

agirl.”

“Obviously,” I say. “And mine’s a dude. His name is Randy. He’s one of the wild humping

surfboards.”

Shewinksasshelaughs.
Ipatthebackofmyhead.“See?Thebrain’sworkingjustfineafterthewhacking.”
“Indeeditis.”
Whenwereachherhome,acutelittlewhitebungalow,shegesturestotheporch.It’steemingwith

pottedplantsandflowers,aswellaspizzacouponsandtakeoutmenusstuffedbehindthemailboxnext
tothedoorway.“Thankyou,Andrew.Forthedrinksandtheescortservice.”

I wiggle my eyebrows because she says escort in kind of a naughty way. “And thank you for the

surfangel-slash-nursework.”

“Mypleasure.Iwashappytosaveaguyindistress.”
Inarrowmyeyesandprotestherdescription.“Heynow.I’mnotadudeindistress.”
Shewhispers“justkidding”assheleansagainstherporchrailing.Idon’tthinkit’sintentional,but

that pose shows off all her assets. The swell of her breasts in her tank dress, her curvy hips, her
stronglegs.Thiswomanjustfuckingdoessomethingtome.Turnsmeon,that’swhatshedoes.Makes
mehardashell.Thoughshe’smadeitclearthatthenightendsrighthere,Iintendtomakethemostof
thisgood-bye.

Imoveclosertoherandrunmyhanddownherarm.Iwatchasgoosebumpsriseinitswake.My

voicegoeslow.“DoyouknowwhatI’vebeenthinkingabout?”

Shetiltsherheadtotheside.“Whatwouldthatbe,Andrew?”
Itstillsoundsfunnytohearhercallmethat.ButnexttimeIseeherI’lltellherthateveryonecalls

meDrew.Withmyotherhand,Ibrushherhairoffhershoulder,catalogingherreactiontomytouch.
Thewaysheshivers.Howsheswayscloser.Therushofbreathonherlips.Ibringmymouthtoher
ear,andwhisper.“Whatitwouldbeliketokissyou.”

Ipullback,wantingtolookather.Herlipsareparted,thenshelicksthemandswallows.It’slike

she’stakingastepcloser,sayinggoforit.“Youshouldabsolutelyfindoutthen,”shesays,softand
inviting.

Myfingerstravelfromhershoulder,uptoherhair,andIropemyhandthroughthoseblondlocks.

I pull her close, savoring the warm feel of her sun-kissed skin and the smell of sand, surf, and
sunshineinherhair.

Idipmymouthtohers,claspingherfaceinmyhands.WhenInipherbottomlip,shegasps.It’s

suchanalluringsound,anditturnsmethefuckonevenmore.Mydickwouldverymuchliketogo
insideherhousetonight,butkissingisallthat’sonthemenu,soIkissherinawaythat’llleaveher
wantingmore.BecauseIwantsomuchmoreofher,andIalsowanthertoknowthat.

I’mnotsurehowIwentfromleavingthefieldwhenpracticeendedthismorning,tospendingthe

afternoon surfing to get my mind off all the changes I’m sure are coming, to kissing this beautiful
strangeroutsideherVeniceBeachhome.ButhellifIwanttoanalyzethismoment.

Ispendmyworkinghoursmakingdecisions,analyzing,choosing.Thenexecuting.
Rightnow,Iwanttogetlostinsomethingthatnooneelsecontrolsbutthiswomanandme.
DanipresseshersexybodytomineasIclaimherlipsinadeeper,moreconsumingkiss.Ajoltof

pleasuresurgesdownmyspine.Thekisspicksupspeedandintensifies,andsoonI’mdevouringher
lips, and she likes it. She moans and murmurs, and loops her hands around my neck, tugging me
closer.Switchingupmylocation,Ileaveapathofkissesalongherjaw,hercheek,overherneck.Her
skin tastes so good, I could spend hours here, nibbling, nipping, biting. And so I do, nipping her
earlobe.

Shemurmurs,along,sexy,lingeringnoise.“Mmm.Thatfeelssogood.”
“Youfeelprettyfuckingfantastic,Dani,”Iwhisperinherear.“AndIlovethesoundsyoumake.”
Flicking my tongue over the shell of her ear, I hear her pitch rise, that gorgeous gasp a woman

makesasshegetsturnedon.It’sasoundthatcandriveamaninsanewithdesire.Ireturntoherlips,
kissing harder this time, drawing in her bottom lip between my teeth. Grabbing her hips, I tug her
closer.“Thoselittlesexynoisesmakemecrazy,”Itellher.

“Iapproveofthisreaction,”shesaysplayfullywhenshefeelsmyhard-on.
“Feelfreetoshowapprovalmanually,”Isay,joking.But,youknow,notjoking.Ifshewantedto

getherhandsinmypants,Iwouldnotprotestonebit.

Shebringshermouthtomyear.“Ororally.”
Igroan.Iwouldlovetofeelherlipswrappedniceandtightaroundme.“Nowyou’rereallydriving

menuts.SayingthosedirtythingswhenIknowyou’regoingtowalkinsideandleavemeouthere.
ButI’llbeagoodshark.”

Shepressesapalmagainstmyhard-on,feelingmethroughmyshorts.“Youareaverygoodshark,

Andrew.”

“So good you’ll let me take you out another night?” I ask, because I’ve got to see this woman

again.

“Iwouldn’tcomplainaboutthat,”shesays,assheslinksherhandsupmychest,tiptoeingovermy

abs.Igrabherhipsandslamheragainstme.

“Iwouldn’teither.Iwanttoseeyouagain,andyou’vegottoknowhowmuchIwanttotouchyou

againtoo.”

Shenibblesonthecornerofherlip.“Iwantthattoo.Both.”
It’sapromise.Ofanothertime.Anothernight.
Igrabmyphonefrommybackpocketandsay,“Givemeyournumber.”
Iopenmycontactsandhandherthephone.Shetapsinherdigits,andasshefinishes,myringtone

sounds.

“Shit.Letmegrabthat.”Iswipethecallandsay,“Heyman,givemetwentyseconds.”
Then,Ileaninandbrushonemorekisstoherlips.“I’lltextyoumynumberlater.K?”
“You better.” Gripping my shirt, she tugs me close. She rocks her hips against me, and I nearly

throwthephonetotheground,butI’vegottotakethiscall.It’smyagent,andshit’sbeengoingdown.

“Iwill,DaniSurferAngel,”Isay,thenIturnaround,headdownhersteps,andgiveheratipofthe

hatonemoretimeassheunlocksherdoorandheadsinside.

AsIwalkdownherstreet,Ibringthephonetomyear.“What’sthestory,man?”
Hetellsme,andmyjawfuckingdrops.

ChapterThree

Dani

IyankopenthekitchencupboardinAlly’sapartmentonemoretime.Maybeit’smyfourthtime.Fine,
it’smytenth.Butitjustyankssosatisfyingly.

“Howdoyounothaveteaorcoffee?”Ishout,irritated,asIstareatthenearly-bareshelvesinher

tinykitchen.

“There’s this thing called Starbucks.” Her breezy voice calls out. But don’t let it fool you. She

learnedsarcasmfromthebest.“Theyhavethemeverywhere.Yougoin,orderyourdrink,andvoila.
Thebaristaservesit,”shesays,andyup,Iwasright.She’sachipofftheoldblock.

Hershoesclackagainstthetilesasshemarchesintothekitchen,herblondhairswishinginahigh

ponytail. I give my baby sister a cold stare. “Starbucks is expensive. You shouldn’t go there every
day.”

“Ihaveamillionfriendswhoarebaristas.”Sheturnshervoicetoastagewhisperasshespreads

outherhands.“Newsflash.Theygivemefreedrinks.”

Itossupmyhands,exasperated.“Everyonegivesyoufreeeverything.Becauseyou’resopretty,”I

say in a hiss, pointing to her gorgeous figure, her lush blond hair, her sky-blue eyes. I slam her
cupboard door. I already had a coffee at my own place this morning. But I want another. I want
something. Anything. I’m still annoyed that that asshole hasn’t called or texted. It’s been four days,
andwhileI’mimmenselygladIdidn’tinvitehimintomybed,I’malsoridiculouslydisappointed.

More than I should be. My reaction is probably way out of proportion, but I was so sure I’d be

seeingAndrewagain.

Ugh.Cansomeonepleasepunchmeandmakemestopcaring?
Ally makes a clawing gesture. “Meow, kitty cat. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the week

today,Dani?”

Iheaveasighanddragahandthroughmyhair.Breathein.Breatheout.RealizeI’mactinglikea

complete and total douche. Then let go of my ridiculous anger. I can’t take out a stupid dating
annoyanceonthepersonIlovemost.“Sorry,”Imutter.“IthinkIwokeuponthewrongsideofthe
moon.Maybeeventheuniverse.”Ishakemyhead,frustratedwithmyself,asIleanagainstmysister ’s
kitchen counter. “I wasn’t even terribly nice to Mrs. Fitzsimmons when she watered my plants
yesterday.”

“Yourneighbordoesthat?”Allygrabsherphonefromthecounterandtucksitintothebackpocket

of her skinny jeans. She wears a pink scoop-neck top, and the color makes her look even younger
thanhertwenty-twoyears.

I nod. “She’s obsessed with plants. I can’t stop her. So I just let her. She loves taking care of the

flowers and the plants and the Chinese food menus that wind up on the porch too. When I saw her
wateringthemthismorning—”

“Theplants,nottheChinesefoodmenus?”
Imanageasmile.“Yes,theplants.AndIgrumbledsomethingaboutthemneedingmoreplantfood.

When I’m supposed to . . . you know . . . say THANK YOU for making the flowers on my porch
beautiful.”Ifrown.“I’mawitch,Ally.Atotalwitch.”

“No,”shesays,asshedrapesanarmaroundme.“You’renotevenarhymes-with-witch.Butyou

can’tletthatdickgetyoudown.”

Iwrenchbacktolookherintheeyes.Thisgirlseesthroughme.“Howdidyouknowthat’swhyI

wasannoyed?”

Shelaughsloudly.Ifalaughcouldsoundknowing,thisonequalifies.“BecauseIknowyou.And

becauseyoucalledmethesecondhelefttheothernighttotellmewhatanamazingtimeyouhad.And
heissonotworththis,”shesays,thengesturestomyface.“Also,thatinsanethingyoujustsaid?Go
lookinthemirror.Welookexactlythesame.Wecouldalmostbetwins.”

“Yeah,ifyouweren’teightyearsyoungerandthebabyofthefamily.”
Sheflashesmeabig,innocentgrin.Thendigsthetipofherforefingerintohercheektoadoptan

apple-piesmile.“I’msosweet,mwahahaha.”

Ihugher.BecauseIcan’tresist.BecauseIlovehermadly.That’swhyI’mhereatherpad,topick

herupanddrivehertoclassonmywayintowork,sincehercarisintheshop.She’sworkingonher
master ’s degree as a nurse practitioner and I couldn’t be prouder of my little sister. Especially
becauseshe’smine,andIpayforherschool.

ThisiswhereIdropthenewsthatwe’reorphans,right?WhenIdiveintothesobstoryofhowit’s

just the two of us navigating the great wide world alone? She’s the only one I’ve ever loved and I
volunteerastribute?

ButwhileIwouldtakeherplaceinthehungergames,Idon’thavethatkindoftaletotell.Ourdad

is a high school football coach in San Diego, our mom is a bank teller, and they lost all their
retirementmoneyinthelastrecession.Theycouldn’taffordtopayforAlly’scollege,soshenabbed
scholarships,justasI’ddone.Butgradschoolwastougher,andthat’swhyItoldherI’dtakecareof
her bills for nursing school. She says she’ll pay me back someday. I doubt I’ll let her. I like taking
care of her. Keeping an eye on her is one of my greatest joys in life because she’s so freaking
awesome.Whenweweregrowingup,sheworshipedme,andIadoredher.Webakedchocolatechip
cookiesasateamforourdad’sgamesandcheeredfromthesidelinesasasiblingunit.Itaughther
howtorecognizetheshotgun,thepistol,andthewishboneformations,whichscoredhermajorpoints
with Dad. We’ve seen every episode of the Gilmore Girls together at least three times, and still
secretly hope that Stars Hollow is a real place. If that doesn’t spell sisterly love, I don’t know what
does.

Plus,I’vedonewellasanattorney,soIcanmanagetheschoolbills.
AslongasIdon’tlosemyjob.
I drum my fingers on the counter. “I need to get to work, sweets. I have a ton to do today, and I

don’twantyoulateforclass,”Isay,asshegathersupherbooksandjamsthemintohermessenger
bag.

Aswewalktothedoor,shetugsgentlyonmyhair,somethingshealwaysdidwhenshewaslittle,

“Ican’tthankyouenoughfordrivingme.Mycarisaskingforaknucklesandwichthesedays.”She
holdsupherfisttodemonstratewhatshewantstodotoherlittleHonda.

“You’renotthatfarawayfromme,andyourclassisonmywayin,”Isay,makinglightofit.Fact

is,I’dprobablydoanythingforher.Shehasthatkindofholdonme.Insomewaysshe’salwaysfelt
likemybaby,andIdefinitelyhelpedtoraiseher.

Weheaddownthestepsofherbuildingandslideintomycar.Ipulloutofthelotandintosluggish

morning traffic. But my traffic app is the greatest thing since sliced bread, ice cream, and sex, so I
managetoavoidthebusyroads,dartingontosidestreetsanddodgingthesnarls.

AsIslowatalight,Allyhums.
Whichmeansshehassomethingbrewinginherbigbrain.
WithmyrighthandImakearollinggesture.“Spititout.”

Shescrewsupthecornerofherlips,thenlooksatme,herblueeyesintense.“Youcouldcallhim.”
Iscoffbywayofanswer.
“Youcould,Dani,”shesays,insisting.
“Aminuteagoyoucalledhimadick,”IpointoutasthelightchangesandIhitthegas.
Istillcan’tbelieveImisreadDrewEricksonsobadly.Isworehewasgoingtocall.Iwassurehe’d

beamanofhisword.Sweetandsnarky,andfunnyandsexy,andhesaidhewould—thoseallmadea
phonecallseemlikeadonedeal.Butmorethanthat,hisragingerectionseemedlikehiscollateral.
Thatmanhadafinecockworkingunderthoseshorts,andIcanonlyimaginewhatitwouldfeellike
to get my hands on it. Oh, wait. I did. That night I had pictured him as I slipped under the sheets. I
imaginedhimslidingintome,andsendingmesoaring.Themanmademecomehardinmyfantasies
afterheleft,andIwasdamnsureI’dhearfromhiminreallifethatnight.

Thenthenextday.
Thenthenext.
Then,IrealizedI’dbeenplayed.
Allytapsthedashboard.“Yes,Ididcallhimatermforthemaleappendage,butseeingasIlikesaid

appendages,perhapsImeantitasacompliment.”Shewiggleshereyebrows,anaughtylittlelookin
herbabyblues.

Ilaugh.“Oh,that’sgood.Yourwordplay.Yousoundlikethelawyernow.”
“I learned from the best,” she says wryly. Then she takes a beat and adds, “But I also trust your

instincts.Youreallylikedhim,andyouguyshadagoodconnection.Maybeyoucouldreachoutto
him.Youcouldfindhisnumberinaheartbeat.You’reaconfident,singlewoman,andyoudon’tneed
towaitforamantocallyou.Besides,maybethere’sasimpleexplanationforhimnotcalling.”She
snapsherfingers.“Likehedroppedhisphoneintheshower.”

Icrackup.“Whyonearthwouldhebeusinghisphoneintheshower?”
“Watching the news, obviously,” she says confidently. “He’s so worldly and concerned about the

stateofglobalaffairsthathewatchesthenewsintheshower.”

“Andthenheslippedandbrokehisphone?”
“Itwasaveryintensenewsstory.”Hereyeswidenwithexcitementassheweaveshertalltale.“Or

maybethephoneshieldedhisfall!”

“Ormaybeyou’rehearingonetoomanycrazystoriesaboutfallsintheshowerinnursingschool,”

Isaydryly.

“Look. Two-thirds of all accidental injuries occur in the bathroom. Things get slippery in the

shower.AllI’msayingis,it’spossiblethere’sanexplanationforhimnotcalling.”

“Explanationslikethatonlyhappeninthemovies.Reallifeconsistsofmensayingthey’lldoone

thing,thendoinganother.Becausetheexplanationisthis,”IsaycrisplyasIdrive.“He’saproathlete.
He’susedtomilesandmilesofwomenofferinguptheirbodiesonsilverplatters,andIdidn’toffer
mine.Sothephonecallhegotonmyporchwasprobablyhis‘savemyassfromawomanwhowon’t
putout’callfromafriend.”

Allyshakesherheadandwhistles.“Thatwasimpressive.Seriouslyimpressive.Thewayyoujust

cameupwiththatexcuse.”

Iflashasmuggrin.“I’mtalentedlikethat.”
“Yeah,butisthatevenathing?I’veliterallyneverheardofthatkindofphonecall,andIhavealot

offriendswhouseTinder.”

I grip the wheel tighter, focusing on the road. “Look. It’s all for the best. I don’t have time for

distractionslikedating.It’sgoingtobeabusyseason.Wehavealotofworktodo,andthemoreI
focusondoingmybestattheoffice,andkeepingtheteamoutofthenegativelimelight,thebetteroff
we’llbeatgettingyouthroughnursingschool.”

Lastseasonwasroughfortheteam.Afewofourplayersdabbledindrugs,andbydabbled,Imean

onetotaledhisFerrariwhilecokedupandtheothertrashedahotelroomdoingspeedandisinrehab.
Ontopofthat,ourwidereceiver,ChuckRomano,becameababydaddyforthefourthtimeandwitha
fourthwoman.

Butwait.Itdoesn’tstopthere.ChuckDip-His-WickRomanodidn’tspreadhisseedjustanywhere.

Hewentandknockedupthenewnineteen-year-oldcheerleaderfortheKnights,anadorable,perky,
formergymnastnamedBambi.

She’s now a former cheerleader, since she quit and moved back home to Oklahoma to raise the

babywithherparents.

Thatwholesituationwasanightmareforthepressoffice.Lordonlyknows,thesportsgossipsites

hadafielddaywiththeKnights.Theteamservedupabuffetofjuicynewsallyearlong,operatingas
anythingbutmeninshiningarmor.SpintherosterlikealazySusanandgrabadrugorsexscandal
whenitstops.

Youwerevirtuallyguaranteedoneortheother.
I’mjustgladIdon’tdoPRfortheteam.
Allysqueezesmyarm.“Yes,Iknowyou’refocusedonme.ButDrewEricksonissofreakingAll-

Americancute.”

AmemoryofAndrew—Drew—andhisdimpleflickersthroughmymind.“Heiscute.Cute,asin

young.He’stwenty-six,whichmakesmefouryearsolder.He’sababy.”

“He’ssupposedtobeababy.He’saproballer.They’reyoung.”
Isigh.“You’rerelentlessandadorable,butalsoyou’renotgoingtowin,becauseI’mnotgoingto

trackhimdown,”IsaywhenIreachherbuildingoncampus.“Afewminutesagoyouwerereadyto
jumponhimandbeathimupfornotcallingme.”

“You’reright.I’mbacktoplanA.Totallygoingtobeathimup.”Shemimespunchingsomeone.
Icrackup.“Getoutofhere.”
Sheleansacrosstheconsole,givesmeasloppykissonthecheek,andthengrabsherbagandheads

out.

***

I’ve always loved football. It’s been a part of my life as long as I can remember thanks to my dad.
He’snotoneofthosefatherswhowasdisappointedhehadgirlsratherthanboys.Instead,hepicked
up the ball and tossed it to me. We had some good chats and fun conversations throwing a football
back and forth in the yard. He’d tell me his plans for upcoming games, and I’d pepper him with
questions. My analytical mind wanted to understand every single detail about how football was
played,fought,andwon.Ilearnedtheformations,thetypesofcoverage,whentogoforaforward
pass,ascreenpass,oraplayactionpass.

Sometimes, he’d ask me what to do in a game, and I’d weigh in with suggestions, based on the

opponentandtheirstyleofplay—running,passing,defensive-minded,andsoon.

Hedidn’treallyneedmyadvice.Hehadawinningrecordoverthirtyyearsasahighschoolcoach.

He just liked hearing what I had to say, and he wanted to foster a love of learning in me. He
succeeded.Thatsameloveturnedintomyaffectionforlaw,forrules,forloopholes.Being a good
lawyerisn’tthatdifferent—thejobisallaboutstrategy,anditletsmeapplymyquestioningmindto
somethingIlove—thegame.

Truthbetoldthough,mostofwhatIworkonarecontractswithvendorswhowepartnerwithatthe

stadium,aswellasthelocalTVandradiostations.ButStuartGrayson,theheadofcommunications,

hasaskedmetoreviewallthepressreleasesandstatementslately,especiallywiththeheattheteam’s
beenunderduetotheplayerfuck-upsinthelastyear.

That’swhatIexpectwhenStuartrapsonthedoorandstridesintomyofficelaterthatmorning.I

bracemyselffornewsthatatightendisleadingacockfightingring,oralinebackerputabuninthe
ovenofateenagerhemetatthemall.“DidyouhearaboutSanders?”

My stomach drops. Please no. Not the quarterback. Dear God, I hope he didn’t become the next

playertogoforjailbait.“Whatnow?”

Stuarttapshisrightshoulder.“Hisshoulder.”
Even though I’m confident his shoulder didn’t impregnate a high schooler, I’ve been trained to

assumetheworst,somyfirstthoughtisheshothimselfaccidentallyinhisshoulder.ButthenIrealize
StuartmeansthetroubleSandershadwithhisshouldertheotherday.Hedislocateditduringpractice.
“Right.He’sinPTisn’the?”

Stuartshakeshisgray-hairedhead.“WasinPT.”Hemimesslicingaknifeoverhisownshoulder.

“Labraltear.Needssurgery,”hesays,tuckinghishandsintohispocketsandshiftingbackandforth
ontheballsofhisfeet.Themantalksinphrases.Hehasanaversiontousingsubjectsinsentences.
“Outofcommissionfortherestoftheseason.”

“Ouch,” I say, wincing in pain, like I can feel what Sanders is going through. “That’s terrible.

What’snext?”

“GMmadeatradeafewdaysago.Lookslikehejustwrappeditallup,sowewantedyoutotakea

lookattherelease.Shouldn’tbeanythingoutofsorts,butit’sgoodtofollowournewprocedureson
everything.Gottaplaybytherules.”Stuartslapsafewsheetsofpaperonmydesk.Stillwarm.Fresh
offtheprinter.“Backinten?”

“Ofcourse,”Isay,asIgrabthepages.Thisisaneasyin,easyoutscenario.Iseriouslydoubtthe

releasewillrequireanylawyering,butwhenyouneedtofixabadrep,youcan’tcutcorners,evenon
somethingassimpleasastatementaboutaquarterbackrequiringsurgery.WhenStuartleavesIbegin
reading,butI’mstillthinkingaboutthatotherquarterback.Theonewhomademeweakintheknees.
Whosentbutterfliesswoopingthroughmybelly.Whoturnedmeon.

Normally,I’mprettysolidwhenitcomestoassessingsituations.Myradarisfinelytuned,andIwas

socertainDrewwouldbedialingmynumbers.MaybeAllywasright.Maybesomethinghappenedto
him.

Settingasidethepageforaminute,ItakeaquickbreaktocheckouttheBleacherReporttoseehow

Drewisfaringinthepreseason.Fine,fine.I’mstalkinghim,butIreasonit’sformyjob.It’sgoodfor
metoknowwhat’shappeningintheleague.OnceIlearnwhatDrew’supto,I’llgiveallmyfocusto
thisquickienewsreleaseonourquarterback.

Ipeeratthescreen.There’snoinfoonDrew’snumbertoday.Noreportonhispreseasonstatswith

the Anaheim Devil Sharks. Nor yesterday. That’s odd. I check the clock. Stuart will be back in five
minutes.

Turningawayfromthecomputer,Ireturnmyfocustothereleaseabouttheinjury.Alllooksgood.

Ifliptothenextpage.

Thefirstparagraphmakesmeblink.Once,twice,threetimes.
Thewordsriseupfromthepage,beating,likethey’realive.
The Los Angeles Knights are pleased to announce the team has traded for Drew Erickson, a

quarterbackfromtheAnaheimDevilSharks.Hewilllikelystartinthefirstgameoftheseasonforthe
Knights.

ChapterFour

Drew

LosAngelesissharp.

BetterthanIexpectedgiventheteam’stroublesinthelastyearorso.Butthey’veweededoutsome

of the guys who were bringing them down. I firmly believe those kind of problems have a way of
carryingovertothefield.Youjustcan’tfuckshitup,landpunches,snortlines,and,well,knockupa
teenagecheerleader,andthenplaylikeaprowhenit’stimeforkickoff.

Todaymarkstheendofmyfirstweekwithmynewteammates.Inthemorningwerunroutesonce

more, so the receivers and I are in synch on the timing of the plays. The pace is light in the early
hours, but picks up after noon with a long series of passing drills under the hot sun. By the time
practiceends,mymusclesaredrainedandI’msweat-soaked,butIcan’tcomplain.Thisisagoodkind
ofexhaustion.Thekindthatseepsintomybonesandportendsagoodnight’ssleep.

That’swhatIneedtostaystrongthisseasonandinjury-free.Andthat’sexactlywhatIintendtodo

thisfall.Stayintop-notchshapeandtaketheteamalltheway.AsIwalkoffthefieldwithTonyElkins,
ourleadingreceiver,whosportsafullbeardandalongmessofhair,heclapsmeontheback.“Nice
work,Erickson.Beenagoodweek.”

“Thanks,man.”
“Keep that shit up and we can make it far this year,” he says, offering a fist for knocking. I

reciprocate.

“That’sthegoal.”
“Streak,baby.Weneedtogetonastreak.”
“Yeah?That’sthekey?”
“I’ve already got my lucky socks planned. Soon as you start working that magic in the pocket,

firing off beautiful bombs to your favorite receiver,” he says with a wink as he taps his chest with
bothhands.

Inod,longandplayful.“Aslongasyoucatch’em,man.”
Heholdshisarmsoutwide.“Always,baby.Thesearmsweremadetocradletheball,”hesays,and

Ilikehisbrandofcockyconfidence.

Weheadindoors,theblastofcoolair-conditioningawelcomerelieffromtheheat.Iglancearound

theconcretehallway,stillgettingusedtothelookandfeelofLosAngeles’sfacilities.

Getting traded wasn’t entirely unexpected. The writing was on the wall when Anaheim drafted a

Heismanwinnerinthefirstroundlastspring,andpaidbigbucksforhisarmtothetuneofafatfour-
year contract for the Georgia graduate. Like a goddamn neon sign flashing that my days were
numbered.It’sbeentick-tocksincethen,asIwaitedforthecallanysecond.Didn’tmatterhowgood
my last season was; my contract ends in a year, and the future of Anaheim rested on the new guy’s
shoulders.

I get it. I’m not annoyed. This is how pro ball goes. I’m just glad I got traded only thirty miles

away.I’dhappilypackupforalotoffranchises—hell,forprettymuchwhoevercomescallingwitha
goodoffer—butIlikeSouthernCalifornia,andIhaveaboatloadofgoodbuddiesinthistownboth
frommycollegedaysandfromthefirstthreeyearsinthepros.

Butthere’sanevenbetterreasonI’mgladIwassenttoLosAngeles.Thechanceismineandmine

alonetostarteverygame.LosAngelesisn’ttryingtogroomanewsuperstar,likemyoldteamwas.
My new team is simply aiming to keep its head above water, and its nose out of the news. I can
absolutelydeliveronbothcounts.

Thatwillbemygoalthisseason.Leadingthisteam,onandoffthefield.
AsIheadinsidethelockerroom,Iremindmyselfthatit’sadamngoodthingDaninevercalledme

backafterIfoundacoolwaytoleavehermynumberthenextday.ThatphonecallIgotthenightI
methermighthavepreventedmefromgivinghermyfullnumber,butImadesuretogetmydigitsto
herthedayafter.ThetroubleisIdidn’thearaword.Notapeep.Iwantedhertocallortext.Hell,didI
everwanttoseeheragain.Thatwomanoccupiedanastonishingportionofmybrainthateveninga
coupleweeksagoafterIleftherporch.Andlook,eventhoughmyagentwascallingtogivemethe
big news, I still managed to spend time with her in the shower when I returned home. She looked
lovelyinmyimaginationwithherhandsagainstthetiledwall,backbowed,assup,allniceandslick
andwetandready.

Inmysoloflightthatnight,shecameasloudandashardasIdidinmyfist.Ibetshe’sanelectric

onebetweenthesheets,becauselordonlyknows,shefeltlikefireinmyarms.

Andtheregoesmydick.ImitatingaflagpoleasIenteraroomfullofdudes.I’dliketofindtheoff

switchtomydirtythoughts.Honestly,I’dliketoshutthemthefuckdownrightnow,andfortunately,
there’snothinglikearoomfulofbig,hairymentodothatforme.

Done.
Since Dani never got back to me, whatever latent lust I feel for her is moot. I tried to track the

womandown.Iwantedtoseeheragain,andImadeahellofaneffort—oneIthoughtwasprettydamn
sweet.Didn’tfazethewoman.HerradiosilencewasallIneededtoknow.I’mnotthekindofguyto
gethunguponagirl,especiallynotsomeoneIonlyspentafewhourswithanyway.

Afewfantastichours.
Butthattimewithherisintherearviewmirror.Myjobistoyankthisteamoutofthefunkit’sbeen

in, and there’s no place for a woman I’ll never see again in that mission. Besides, I’ve witnessed
what’s happened to my buddies on and off the field when they got distracted by women. They start
losingtheirfocus,dullingtheiredge,forgettingwhatmattersonthefield.Me?I’mnotperfect,butI
believefirmlyinablindersapproach.Stayoutoftrouble,don’tgetdistracted,andkeepyoureyeon
themotherfuckingprize.

Excellence.
That’swhatmatterstome,andnowI’vegotachancewithateamtoperform.
AfterIshoweranddress,IfindStuart,theteam’smainpressguy,waitingformeinthehall.
“HeyDrew,”hesays,parkingahandonmyshoulder.He’sshorter,withdarkhairpepperedwith

gray.Hiseyesmatch—they’realmostsilvery.

“Youallsetforthefundraisertonight?”
“Absolutely,” I say, since he asked me to attend a charity event to benefit inner-city youth in LA.

Notonlyisitagoodcause,butoursupportcanhelpimprovetheKnights’tarnishedimage.

“Wonderful.Lotsoffolksfromtheorganizationwillbethere,soI’llmakesureyoumeeteveryone

and that they all know our new quarterback,” he says with a wide smile. “And you’ll smile for the
cameras.GetsomeInstagramposts,makeafewcommentstothesportssites.Youknowthedrill.”

“Can’twait,”Isay,andImeanit.

***

“Makesuretolookprettytonight,”Jasonsays,laughing,asIturnatthelight,headingtotheboutique
hotel.

Ispeakintothephone,setintheholderonthedashboardofmyTesla.“Ilookdevilishlyhandsome,

butI’mprettysuretonight’snotthenightforpickingupchicks.Callmecrazy,butIdon’tthinkthe
teamwouldbetoostokedifIwentintotheircharityeventchasingtail.”

“Shame,” my best friend says, his voice smooth and cool. “I’m sitting here at Piccolo’s and the

pickingsarequitepretty.”

I can picture him there, enjoying a Scotch and surveying the scene, sitting like a king. It’s his

favoritehipsterbar,andheregularlycleansupthere,alongwithmyotherboys.

“Then you should enjoy them all. Though I doubt you can pull without me,” I say as I near the

hotel.

Jasonsnorts.“Asif.”
We grew up next door to each other in a crummy neighborhood in San Diego, and played ball

togetheraskids.Athighschool,hekilleditasarunningback,butthenheswitchedtotrackaftera
fewyearstotakeadvantageofhisspeed.Henabbedascholarshiptocollege,butthat’sasfarashe
wentinsports.Theguyisamazingwithfinancialmanagementthough,andheworkshisassoffasan
advisortoallsortsofclients,myselfincluded.Irarelymakedecisionswithouthim.He’sbecomemy
businessmanager.He’srocksolid,andone-hundredpercentdependable.HewasthefirstoneIcalled
aftermyagenttoldmeIwastraded,andhewasfiredup.Dueinnosmallparttothefactthathelives
inLosAngeles.HealreadyhelpedmefindasweetcondoinSantaMonicatorentfortheyear.

“Hey,”Jasonsays,segueingtohisbusinesstone.“Igotarequestforameetingtodayfromasports

drink company, Qwench. Potential sponsorship. It’s in the exploratory stages, but I’ll do my due
diligence,takethemeeting,andseeifit’sworthpursuing.”

“Excellent.Can’twaittohearyourthoughts.”
AsIpulluptothevalet,Icatchaglimpseofmyselfinthemirror.Sharpvest,fineshirt,smooth

shave.Ilookthepartoftheathletewhocleansupwell.LikeImotherfuckingshould.“Ineedtojam.
I’mherenow.”

“Beonyourbestbehavior,Drew,”hesays,ateasingtoneinhisvoice.
“Ialwaysam,”Ireply,andthefactis,that’strue.Clean-cutismynickname.
“Andtextifyou’redoneearly.”
“IfI’mdoneearly,I’mhavingadatewithmymattress.”
Hegroans.“Youarethedefinitionofnofun.”
Igrin.“That’sme.That’swhyQwenchwantsmenow.BecauseIknowhowtogetagoodnight’s

sleepandstayoutofthelineoffire.”

WhenIhangup,Istepoutofthecar,handthekeystothevalet,andthankhim.ThenIheadinside,

whereStuartgreetsmeintheroomreservedfortheevent,clapsmeontheback,andintroducesmeto
severalpeople.Aphotographersnapsshotsthewholetime,andIplaytherolethat’shardlyarole—
the outgoing, non-trouble-making, peace-loving quarterback who doesn’t throw punches or raise
fists,likeothersbeforemehave.

Don’t smoke, don’t do drugs, don’t have unprotected sex, and I also don’t speed. Squeaky clean

indeed.Notevenatrafficticketontherecord,andcertainlynoknocked-upteenybopperswithmini
Drewsbakingintheirbellies.

Stuart introduces me to the red-haired, freckle-faced guy who heads up this charity. “And this is

Drew Erickson. He’s our new starter. We’re thrilled to have him on the team, especially since he’s
alreadyactivewithmanywonderfulcharitableendeavors,”Stuartsaystotheginger-hairedguy.

Weexchangesmalltalkforafewminutes,thenStuartdropsahandonmyshoulderandtellsme

there’ssomeoneelsehewantsmetomeet.“I’dlovetointroduceyoutoasharp-as-a-tackwomanwho

makessureIdon’tfumble,”hesays,thenwinksincaseIdidn’trealizehewasmakingajoke.

IsmiletolethimknowIgotit—fumblinghumorandall—thenmysmileturnsintoaruler-straight

linewhenIturnonmyheelsandseemysurferangel.

Holyshit.She’shotassininaredskirt,whiteblouse,andblackheels.Sheholdsadrink.Herblond

hair is twisted on her head. Damn. The smoking-hot look is almost enough to make me forget she
blewmeoff.Mydick,thetraitorousbastard,hasalreadycomedownwithamnesia.Thefuckerwants
her.

“ThisisDaniPaige.She’sanattorneyfortheteam,”hesays,andIattempttoschoolmyexpression

asIcomeface-to-facewiththewomanwhoditchedme.

AndallIwanttodoistossheronmyshoulder,stalktothebathroom,slamthedoor,andaskher

whythefuckshedidn’tcall.Thenwhenshetellsmeitwasbecauseshewastoobusygettingoffto
thoughtsofme,I’dkissthehelloutofheruntilshemeltedinmyarmsandbeggedmetotakeher.I’d
happily oblige. Hoist her up, hook her legs around my hips, and fuck her against the wall until she
comesharderthansheeverhasbefore.

Instead,Ishakeherfreehand.“Pleasuretomeetyou.”ThenIwhisper,justforher.“Jaws.”

ChapterFive

Dani

IknockbackmyArnoldPalmerinonefastgulp.

Likeit’sgoingtogivemethefuelIneedtomanagethisinteractionwithDrew.
Iknewitwouldhappeneventually,butIhavenocluewhattoexpectnowthathe’shereinfrontof

me,withStuartbyhisside.Talkaboutawkward.

Thetroubleis,Ican’ttalkaboutanythingbecauseI’vefinishedmybeveragetoofastandit’sgone

straighttomyhead.Asin,epicbrainfreeze.Myforeheadpulsesinamind-numbingheadache.Ipress
mypalmagainstmytemple.

Thepain.Ohlord,theridiculouspain.
“Youokay?”
ImeetDrew’sgaze.“Brainfreeze,”Icroakout.
“Pressyourtongueagainsttheroofofyourmouth,”hesays,andthenhedemonstrates.Onhimself.

Openinghismouth,stickinghistongueup,andshowingme.

It’sthestrangestmomentandonethatisrifeforinnuendo,because...histongue.
ButmyheadacheslikeasonofabitchsoIdoashesays,pushingthetipofmineagainsttheroof

ofmymouth.Inafewwondrousseconds,thepaininmyforeheaddissipates.

Asmiletugsatthecornersofmylips.“Howonearthdidyouknowtodothat?”
Heshrugs.“BigfanofSlurpees.Learneditthehardway.”
Stuartbeams,clapshishands,andsays,“Icanseeyoutwowillgetalongfine.Drew,ifyouneed

anything,Daniisthelegalliaisontothepressdepartmentthisseason.She’staskedwithhelpingusto
makesurewepresentthebestpublicface,anddon’tbreakanyrules.Orlaws.”Hepauses,thenadds,
thistimewithcompleteseriousness.“Ormorals.Especiallythose.”InodmyunderstandingandDrew
does the same. Then Stuart flashes a huge smile and laughs. “Need to go make the rounds, so I’ll
leaveyoutwoalone.”

Stuartwalksaway,andIstandnearthebarwiththemanwhoditchedmetheotherweek.
Becool.Becalm.Beapro.Don’tbreakanyrules.
Ipartmylipstospeak,huntingforwordstobreakthetensionthatstillexistsbetweenus.Inmybest

cool-as-a-cucumber tone, I say, “Congratulations on joining the team. Everyone is thrilled to have
you.”

Hearchesaneyebrowandeventhatsimplegestureisimpossiblysexyonhim.Butthen,hehasan

unfairadvantagebecausehe’sdeckedoutinathree-piecesuit—tailoredpants,adressshirt,andavest
that fits him like a glove. If he wasn’t already stunning, the damn vest alone would knock him into
anotherstratosphere,becausethere’sjustsomethingsoridiculouslyhotaboutamanwhocanpulloff
thatlook.Youhavetopossessaspectacularbodytowearthatkindofthree-piecesuit.Drewseemsto
havesteppedoffthepagesofGQ,tailoredtowithinamillimeterofhisfineframe.I’veseenhimin
shorts,andI’veseenhiminasuit.Themanmakestheclotheseverytime.

“Everyone is thrilled to have me?” He sweeps his multimillion-dollar arm out wide, his eyes

pinnedonme.“Becauseitdidn’tseemlikeeveryonewasthrilledtohaveme.”

MyfaceburnsandIdon’tknowifit’sfromembarrassmentordesireoramix.Howonearthishe

alreadydroppingnaughtylittlehints?Especiallyafternotcalling.

Inod,raisingmychin.Idon’tknowwhathe’sgettingat,butIwon’ttakethebait.I’mnotaboutto

let on that I was so disappointed at the silent treatment that I considered smashing my phone with a
hammerasapunishmentforitnotservingupanytextsfromhim.

“Iassureyou,everyoneattheorganizationisdelightedthatyou’reontheteam.”
Ugh.Isoundlikeamouthpiece.
He steps closer, leans into me, his mouth now dangerously near to my ear. “Cut the act,” he

whispers,hisvoicelowandhuskyandturningmeoneventhoughIwishitwasn’t.

“Whatact?”Iask,myvoiceaswobblyasmyknees.
“YouknewIwastraded.”
Iwrenchback.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Hetapshischest.“AndyouknewwhoIwas.”
Iscoff.Inhisface.“Ididn’tknowyouwerebeingtraded,”Iwhispersharply,notwantinganyoneto

overhearourconversation.“ButobviouslyIknewwhoyouwere.I’mnotstupid.IfIdidn’trecognize
you,Ishouldn’thavemyjob.”

“Andyetyousaidnothing.”
“Andyetyousaidnothing,”Ifirebackathim.
His expression is cold. “The whole time you knew what was going on, though, about me being

traded,andyoudidn’tsayanything?”

Ishakemyhead.Icanbarelybelievethisconversation.“I’mnotprivytotradesbeforetheyhappen.

I’m the attorney, not the general manager. Besides, if I really knew, which I did not, do you think I
wouldhavespenttheeveningwithyou?I’dhaveavoidedyou.Ionlywantedtohelpmakesureyou
weren’thurt.”

Draggingahandthroughhisthickbrownhair,heshrugs.“Fine.”
“AndyouintroducedyourselfasAndrew.Youdidn’tevensaywhatyoudidforaliving.Iassumed

thatmeantyouwantedtobeunknown.Don’tgivemeahardtimeforgivingyouwhatyouwantedthat
day,”Iseethe,andhesighsheavily.ButI’mnotdone.“Andwhyareyouonmycasewhenyoudidn’t
evencallme?”

Crap.Iwanttosmackmyself.Somuchforbeingcool.Somuchfornotlettingon.Thismanrattles

me.

Butjudgingfromtheflummoxedlookonhisface,I’verattledhimtoo.Hestaresatme,hisbrow

furrowed.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?Istoppedbyyourhousethenextday.ItriedtotextyoubutI
didn’tgetthelastdigitdown,soIcamebythenextdaytoaskyouout.Ihadnoideayouworkedfor
theteam.”

“AndIhadnoidea—”Istopwhenmybrainsnagsonwhathejustsaid.MakingaTwithmyhands,

Icallatimeout.“Wait.Didyousayyoustoppedby?”

Henodsseveraltimes.“WhenIrealizedIdidn’thaveyourfullnumber,Iwroteanote,andbrought

itovertoyourhomeandleftitonyourporch.Tuckeditrightundertheplantbyyourdoor.”

Butterfliesswoopdownoutofnowhere,landinginmychest.“Youdid?”Iask,andIcan’tmaskthe

hopeinmytone.“Whatdidyousayinit?”

Agrinspreadsonhisface,asweetandsexysmile.Helickshislips.Speakssoftly.“ThatIhada

nicetimewithyou.ThatImessedupyournumber.ThatIwantedtoknowifyou’dhaveanyinterestin
givingmeasurfinglesson.”

Thenotemusthavegottenlostinallthemenusandcoupons.IbetMrs.Fitzsimmonspickeditup

accidentally when she watered the plants. Probably tossed it in the recycling like she does with the
flyers.

Inaninstantmyfrustrationseepsaway.AllIwanttodoiskissthedaylightsoutofhim.ButIcan’t

dothat.Instead,Imeethishazelgazeandsay,“Iwouldhavesaidyes.”Shiversspreadacrossmyskin
frommyownadmission.

Hisvoiceissoftandsmokywhenheanswers.“Ilikeitwhenyousaythatword.”
Isayitagain,eventhoughit’sfartooriskytousewithhim.ButIinchcloserandletitfallfrommy

lipsinasoftwhisper.“Yes.”

Hedrawsasharpbreath.Hiseyesdarken.“Soundssofuckinggoodonyourlips.”
Thoseshiversturnintoheat,likeafirehasignitedinmychest,anditspreadseverywhere.Filling

mewithlustanddesireallfromthatoneword.

Yes.Yes.Yes.
HowIwantustosayyes.
“Youreallydidn’tgetmyphonenumber?”
Heshakeshishead.“Ireallydidn’tgetyournumber.”Hishazeleyestwinkle.Helookshappy,and

it’salookhewearsextraordinarilywell.Icastmyeyesaroundtheroom,cataloguingthedinofall
my colleagues in the front office as well as the guys on the field, chatting, drinking, nibbling on
appetizers, posing for photos in front of the banner. I’m glad that the noise and hubbub of the
conversations are keeping everyone else busy. “Trust me, Dani. If I had that last digit I would have
textedyoufiveminutesafterIleft,andagainthatnight.AndafterIgothome.AndbeforeIfellasleep.
Icouldn’tstopthinkingaboutyou.”

Hiswordslightmeup.Mywholebodyishumming.“Icouldn’tstopthinkingaboutyoueither,and

Ihadagreattimetalkingtoyouonthebeachandatthebar.Icouldtellyouwantedtojustbearegular
Joe,soIwantedyoutobefreetodothatwithme.ButIswearIdidn’tknowyouweregoingtobe
tradedtoLosAngeles.Ireallydothinkit’sterrifictohaveyouontheteam.Iknowwhatyoudidlast
year.Top-tenquarterbackratingintheleague,andonlyoneinterception.Thatwasimpressive,”Isay,
andheblushes.

Holyshit.DrewEricksonblusheswhenIcomplimenthisstats.
“Who would have thought we’d be playing on the same team? But maybe later, we can pick up

where we left off?” he suggests. “Or perhaps we can get a Slurpee and test my brain-freeze cure
again.Coldheadsseemtobeourthing.”

That’swhenthesexyflirtyfeelingfadesaway.Thebubblebursts.Theawarenessofwhatamistake

thiswouldbesinksdownonmelikeananvil.

Chuck.Bambi.Sexscandalslikethey’rearegulardailyroutine.
“Shoot,”Isay,heavily,likeithastwentysyllables.
“Shoot?”
Ishakemyhead.“Wecan’t.Withthetroubletheteamhasbeenthroughinthelastyear...Ican’t

take a chance of anything that would be”—I pause, hunting for the word—“inappropriate. Even
remotelyinappropriate.”

Nowayinhellwouldmanagementwantalawyerdiddlingwithaplayer.Imaynotbewavingpom-

pomsonthefield,andI’mnotwetbehindtheearslikeBambi,butIknowabadidea.

Andthisisaworld-class-varietybadidea.
Hestrokeshischin.“Wedon’twanttoputtheteaminabadlight.”
“Andit’syourfirstyearhere,”IaddbecauseIdon’twanttoseemlikethebuzzkill.Webothhavea

lotatstake.Myjob,hisjob,theteam’sreputation.

“Exactly.Gottakeepeverythingaboveboard.But,Ibetthere’snorulethatwecan’tbefriends,”he

says,withaplayfulglintinhiseyes.

Ican’thelpit.Ismiletoo.Thismancancharmthepantiesoffmeanyday.
Imean,thepants.
He’stotallynotcharmingmythongoff.Thatlittlelacynumberisstayingwhereitbelongs.

Infact,wespendthenexttenminuteschattingaboutthenewplaceherentedinSantaMonica,andI

tellhimhowtheSantaMonicaPierisoneofmyfavoritespotsintheworldtowatchthesunset.“Plus,
there’swhack-a-molegames,”Isay.

“And Skee-Ball?” he asks, pressing his palms together in prayer. “Please say there’s Skee-Ball

too.”

“Ofcourse.Ididsayitwasoneofthegreatestplacesintheuniverse.”
Hecupshishandsaroundhismouthlikehe’sabouttotellmeasecret.“IfeelIshouldletyouknow.

I’mfuckingawesomeatSkee-ball.”

Ilaugh.“Well,Ishouldhopethatmagicarmofyourscanworkwonders”
Hewigglesaneyebrow.“Ihavegoodhandstoo.”
And tingles rush down my spine. “Why do I feel like you can turn anything into a naughty

comment?”

Heblowsonhisfingers.“BecauseIcan.”
“We’resupposedtobefriendly,notflirty,”Iwhisper.
Hehasnochancetoreply,becausetheredheadedguyfromthecharitymarchesuptousandasks

foraphotoopwithDrew.Thephototurnsintoalongconversation,andit’stimeformetocallita
night.SincetheWi-Fiinthereceptionroomiscrummy,IheadtothelobbytoopenmyUberapp.I
carpooled here with a coworker but she took off early when her son’s babysitter had to leave
unexpectedly.

Ientermylocationintheapp,butbeforeIcanfinish,Istoptapping.Iturnaround.Drew’sbymy

side.

“You’renotleavingwithoutsayinggood-bye,areyou?”
“Ofcoursenot.JustorderinganUber.Iwasgoingtosaygood-bye.”
Hecoversmyhandwithhis.“Don’ttakeanUber.I’lldriveyouhome.”
It’sabadidea,butIdon’tresist.
Fiveminuteslater,IslideintothefrontseatofhisTeslaandpullawayfromthehotel.

ChapterSix

Drew

Danistretchesoutherlegsinthefrontseat,andIcanbarelyconcentrateontheroadanymore.

Thosestrongcalves.Thoseblackheels.Thattightlittlewaist.Thiswomanistoofuckingsexy.Too

fuckingfunny.Suchastraightshootertoo,anditturnsmeontonoend.That’stheproblem.Ican’t
affordtobeturnedon.Needtokeepmyblinderson.

I grip the wheel tighter as I pull onto the ramp for the freeway heading to Venice Beach. Best to

keeptheconversationone-hundredpercentfriendly.SoIchooseaneasytopic.“What’syourfavorite
movie?”Iask,becauseI’vegottogetmymindoffherbody.Ineedtofocusonherasacolleague,not
thewomanIwantedtotaketobedthelasttimeIsawher.

Sheturnsherfacetome.“Youwanttodothefavoritesgamenow?Isthatpartofyour‘friendly,not

flirty’approach?”

IsmileasIclickontheblinkertomerge.“Indeeditis.Bigmoviefanhere.Sofessup,woman.”
“HeavenCanWait,ofcourse,”shesays,winking.
Iscoff.“Youcan’tpickafootballmovie.”
“Whynot?”
“Becauseweworkinfootball.Sportsmoviesareruledout.”
“Butit’sanawesomemovie.”
Inod,agreeingasIpressthebrake.Trafficisslowingahead.Thiscityiscrazy.Evenlateatnight,

there are traffic jams. “Heaven Can Wait is so damn good. So is Bull Durham, and Friday Night
Lights,andHoopDreams.ThecinemaonthepromenadeinSantaMonicaisshowingsomeofthebest
sportsflicksinafewweeks.”

“See?NoonecanresistthepullofHeavenCanWait.It’sthekindoffootballmoviethatevennon–

footballfanslove.”

Iscowl.“Therearepeoplewhodon’tlikefootball?”
Sheshrugs.“I’veheardabouttheirexistence.Smalllittlepocketsontheoutskirtsofsociety.”
“Seemsterriblysadtobesuchaperson.”
“It’swoefullydevastating,Drew.”
“Horriblydismal.”
“Awfullytroubling.”
“Hey,show-off,”Isay,raisingmychin,asIcutintothenextlanewhenaspotopensupbetweena

whiteToyotaandablackSUV.“Gotafavoriteadverb?”

“Hmm,” she says, tapping her pink polished fingernails along the window. Her lips quirk as she

considersthequestion.Shetiltsherhead,andsaysslowly,likeshe’ssavoringtheword,“Blissfully.”

“That’syourfavoriteadverb?”
Sheraisesaneyebrow.“Ilikebliss.Doyouhavesomethingagainstbliss?”
Fuckmenow.Thewayshesaysthatislikeanaughtylittletaunt.“You’resupposedtobefriendly

withme,Dani,”Isay,inawarning.

“Thatwasn’tfriendly?”
“No,thatwasnaughty.Incrediblynaughty.”

“Thenperhapsnaughtilyshouldbemyfavoriteadverb.”
ThetaillightsoftheToyotawinkonandoff.Asthecaraheadofmeslows,Ipressthebrakeharder.

Trafficcomestoastandstill.Itrytopeeraroundthecarstogetareadonthesituation.“What’sgoing
onupthere?”

“Probablyconstruction.Ishouldhaveturnedonmytrafficapp.IusuallydobutIwasdistracted,”

shesays,soundingannoyedwithherself.

“Whatdistractedyou?”
She roams her eyes over me, like she’s cataloguing my face, my chest, my arms, my legs. She

shakesherhead,pursesherlips.Thenasoftsighfallsfromherlips,ahintoffrustrationinit.

“You,”shewhispers.“That’stheproblem.”
So much for the favorites game. My blinders fall off, and my focus on friendship flies out the

windowmomentarily.

Iliftmyhand,reachforherface,andcuphercheek.Shegasps,andbeforeeitheroneofuscansay

anotherword—beforeIcanevaluateoranalyze—Idipmymouthtohersandkissthosedeliciouslips.
Sheopensforme.Hertonguedartsout,slidingbetweenmylips.Shenips,runningherteethalongmy
bottomlip,andoutofnowhereaquickkissturnsintoahot,dirtyone.

A car horn honks from behind, and we pull apart. But the white sedan in front of me has only

movedtwentyfeet.Idriveslowly,runningonehandalongDani’sleg,downtothehemofherskirt.
Myfingersplayatthehem,andshemurmursasweslinkalong.Trafficcrawlsatasnail’space.My
eyesdrifttoherlegs,sotonedandstrong.Thewholelookshehasworkingtonightiskillingme.

Morethanthat,thewholenotionofresistanceiskillingme.
Itellmyselfjustonetouch,justonenightwon’thurtathing.Itwon’tharmtheteam,anditwon’t

knockmeoffmygame.

Iinchmyfingerunderherskirt,andsheletsherkneefallopentheslightestbit.
“You’resonotfriendlyeither,”shesaysinaplayfulpout.
“I’mcompletelytheoppositerightnow.”Myfingerstravelupthesoftfleshofherthighs.Mydick

hardens even more, hungry for this woman. She wriggles in her leather seat, as I drive slowly, so
goddamnslowly.Rightnow,though,I’mgratefulforthetraffic.BecauseIcandothistoher.

My fingers tiptoe higher, and higher still, and Dani rests her head against the leather, her mouth

fallingopen,herbreathcatching.AsIascendtothetopofherthigh,thepadsofmyfingerssliding
overhersoftflesh,shereachesforhertightskirt,andtugsituphigher.

Thensheopensherlegs.

Dani

Imightbecrazy.

Imightbefoolish.
Imightbeamillionthings.
WhatIamforcertainisturnedonbeyondanyandallmeasure.
We’re surrounded by cars, and yet totally alone in his air-conditioned electric vehicle. I know

better.Igettherisks.IswearIdo.Butrightnowwithtrafficstalled,andhishandsonme,mybodyis
inchargeandit’sseekingthatadverb.Iwanttobetouchedblissfully.Strokedtantalizingly.Gottenoff
powerfully.

Besides, this is just a little sliver of time. It’s a sealed-off moment in his automobile. This isn’t

goingtohurtanyone.

Infact,itseemstheoppositeofhurt.Histouchmakesmyskinsizzle.Makesmyinsidessingwith

pleasure.

Drewdoesn’tneedanydirection.He’sgameandhisfingersslidealongthewetpanelofmypanties.

He’sgotaneyeontheroad,buthekeepsstealingglancesatme.

“ToldyouIdidn’tfeelcordialtowardyourightnow,”Iwhisper.
Heflashesawickedgrinasheslipsonefingerunderthepanel,makingmemoan.Becauseitfeels

sogoodwhenhetouchesme.HeflicksthepadofhisfingerwhereIwanthimmost,andIarchinto
him.

“Idon’twantyoutofeelcordialrightnow.”
“Howdoyouwantmetofeel?”Iask,mypitchrisingashestrokesme.Ohdearlord,hishandsare

wonderful. His touch is electric. Firm, but tender, as he paints dizzying strokes up and down my
center.Heteasesme,thentraceslingering,luxuriouslinesalongmywetness,andIrockmyhipsinto
hishand.

“Hot.Bothered.Ecstatic,”hesays,asthecarinchesforward,oneofhishandsonthewheel.
“Thosewordsallfit.”Ispreadmylegswider.
Arumbleescapeshislips.“Yeah,dothat.Ifuckinglovethat.Loveseeingyougetsoturnedonyou

openyourlegsforme.”

His dirty words are like a charge, as if someone plugged me in, and I’m electrified. His fingers

travelupanddown,upanddown,thenaroundandaround.Hecentershisstrokesonmyclit,andthe
pleasurebuilds,ripplingacrossmyskin.Likefireworksinsideme,startingsmall,climbinghigher,
thenshootinguptothesky.

“Drew,”IsaygaspinghisnameasIliftmyhips,mybodyseekinghim.“It’ssogood.”
Hedragsafingerdownmeslowly,thenbringsittohislipsanddrawsitbetweenthem.Myeyes

widenasIwatchhimsuckhard,likehe’ssavoringmytaste.“Fuckingdelicious,”hemurmurs,then
returnshisfingertome.Inearlysingoutinpleasureashereconnects.

“If we weren’t stuck in traffic, I’d go down on you,” he says, his voice husky. “Licking your

sweetness.Tastingyourdesire.”

As he paints a picture, I slide into a realm of pure lust. His words, his touch, my own sheer,

unadulteratedneed—they’reallIfeelrightnow,andtheythruminsideme,likeahotvibration.

“Oh God, I want that so much,” I say on a broken pant as I thrust up against his finger. He’s not

evenpenetratingme.Hedoesn’thaveto.He’ssimplystrokingmeandthat’senoughrightnow.Just
therightpressure,justtherightspeed.Mybodyconsistssolelyofnerveendings.Allhehastodois
keepthispace,andhe’lligniteme,likearockettakingoffforthestratosphere.

Hebendshisheadclosertomyneck.“I’dburymyfacebetweenthoseprettylegsofyours.You’d

wrapyourheelsniceandtightaroundmyneck,andI’dfuckingdevouryou,”hesaysinalow,dirty
growlinmyear.

“Oh God,” I moan, and I’m lost. I’m absolutely lost in pleasure as he strokes me, faster and

impossibly faster still. “I’m close. So close,” I say, panting. I’m vaguely aware of the car moving
slowlyforward,andmaybethetraffichaspickedupormaybenot,butthenmybrainturnstoabluras
hetripsaswitchinsideme.

Every muscle tenses blissfully as an orgasm charges through me, my legs quivering, pleasure

quakinginmybodyasIrockintohishand,grindingagainsthisfingers.Myworldturnswhite-hot.
Bursts of electric pleasure pulse in me, and a wild sensation of pure erotic bliss radiates from my
centerallthewaythroughtomytoes,tomyhair.Hell,myeyelashesmightevenbeturnedon.

IcryoutasIcomeundoneinhiscar,buckingintohishand,pantinglikeawildwoman.That’swho

I’vebecomewiththiscaptivatingman.Myeyesaresqueezedshut,andastheorgasmsubsides,Iblink
themopen,gettingmybearingsagain,comingdownfromahigh.

“Guessthat’sthefirsttimeI’veeverbeengladtobestuckintraffic,”hesays,thengesturesahead

ofus.Thesnarlofstalledcarsisfinallybreakingandhehitsthegas.

“Yes,thatwasthebestuseoftrafficI’veeverexperienced.”
Heglancesatme,asatisfiedsmileonhishandsomeface.“Bytheway,”hesays,histonebothfull

ofprideandhappiness,“youwereblissfullyorgasmic.”

“AndIbetyou’reimmenselyhard,”Isay,andthenhewiggleshiseyebrow.“CanIfindout?”
He eyes his crotch, then me, then the freeway. “Let’s just make sure we don’t crash, because that

wouldbeincrediblybadfortheteam,”hesayswithawink.

Right.Theteam.Thereasonwearen’tsupposedtobemessingaround.
ButasIdropmyhandonhishard-onI’mnotthinkingabouttheteam.I’mthinkingabouthiscock.

HowmuchIwanttotouchhim,feelhim,tastehim.

I’mdyingtowrapmylipsaroundhim,butIjustdon’tknowthatthere’sroominthefrontseatfor

me to go down on him while he drives. Plus, you know, it’s a bit dangerous. But I can stroke him,
evenashedrives.Iworkopenthezipper,slidemyhandinsideandrunmypalmovertheoutlineof
hishardcock.He’ssobig,andsohard,andIwanttotouchhim,fleshtoflesh.

“Fuck,Dani,thatfeelsgood,”hesaysinathroatyrumbleasIrunmyhandovertheoutlineofhis

erection.Hisverythickerection.

“Itwouldbebetterifitwerehands-on.”
“Thengetyourhandsonme,”hesays,ashedrives.
I dip my hand inside his briefs, wrap my palm around Drew Erickson’s cock, and it’s fucking

fabulous. It suits this man. It fits his build, his size, his strength, his skill. Everything about him is
biggerthanaverage,andthanktheLord,thatincludeshisdick.

I run my hand up and down the length of him as he accelerates. Touching him like this sends a

deliciouslydirtythrillthroughme.

Hegroans,grippingthewheelharderasIstroke.Mythumbslidesoverthehead,andIswipeoffa

dropofhisarousal,thenbringittomymouth.Briefly,hiseyesflickawayfromthefreewayasIlick
thetasteofhimoffmythumb.

“Ohfuck,that’ssofuckinghot.”
“Youtastesogood,”Isay,andIfisthiscockforthenextseveralminuteswhilehedrivesasslowly

ashecangetawaywith.Hisjawistense,concentrationetchedinhiseyes,ashetriestofocusonthe
roadevenasIstrokehisdick.AsIlowermyhandtocuphisballs,hehisses.Then,beforeIknowit,
he switches lanes, hopping right, then right once more. A determined man, he pulls onto the exit
ramp,speedsdownit,brakesrightintoa7-Elevenparkinglot,andcutstheengine.

Heturnshisfacetome.Hiseyesaredark,shiningwithdesire.
ButI’mthefirsttospeak.“CanIgetyouofflikethis?Justmyhand?”
“Whywouldyouasknow?Youwerehalfwaythereonthefreeway,honey.Timetogetthisoneall

the way downfield.” He opens his pants more, pushing them lower, and gives me full access to his
beautifulcock.Igriphimtighter,pumpingandtuggingonhisshaft,andhegroans.

AndthenhedoesthesexiestthingI’veeverexperiencedwhenitcomestohandjobs.
Hethreadsahandinmyhairandwhispersagainstmylips,“Kissmehard.Iwanttocomewhile

you’rekissingme.”

Electricity flares in me. Spreads through every vein. Kissing while coming might be the hottest

requestever.Mybodyagrees,sinceI’veneverbeenwetter.

Which I realize is quite convenient since hand jobs require lubrication. Fortunately, I’ve got the

bestkindoflube.Theall-naturalvariety.AsIkisshimhard,Idipmyhandbetweenmylegs,bring
some of my own wetness to my fingertips, and return my wet hand to his cock. He moans in my
mouthwhenherealizeswhatI’vedone.

“Your hand is fucking magic,” he says, and then I grip harder, my palm flying up and down his

length, slick with my own orgasm, until he’s thrusting hard, fucking my hand, and kissing my lips
likehe’sgoingtodevourme.Hebitesdown,andgroanslongandloud.Whenhereleasesmylips,he
groansagainstmymouth,“Gonnacome.”

But there’s no need to get his beautiful pants messy or his gorgeous car. Nor my hand for that

matter. In an instant, I take him in my mouth as he comes, wrapping my lips tight around him. He
gruntsandgrabsmyhair,rockingupintomymouth,andthecombinationofhisnoisesandthrustsis
sofuckingsexythatIswearIalmostcomeagainjustfromhimclimaxing.Hepulsesinmymouth,his
dickhotandthrobbing,andIcan’thelpbutthinkhowamazingitwouldbetofeelhimmoveinside
me.

WhenIreleasehimfrommymouth,hecupsmycheek,looksinmyeyes,andsays,“Whythefuck

arethereunwrittenrulesagainstthis?”

Ican’thelpbutsmile.“You’resupposedtolikerules.Isn’tthatwhatyourjobis?That’swhatthe

gameis.Rules.”

“Andfindingawaytogetaroundthem.Asyoushouldknow,MissLawyer.Isn’tthatwhatyourjob

is?”

“Touché,”Isaywithasmallsmile.
Thenhepressesatenderkisstomylips.“Stupidrules,”hemumbleswhenhebreaksthekiss.
“Butwehavetofollowthem,”Isaysoftly,myvoicealittlesadderthanIexpected.“It’stoorisky.I

just don’t want to be the person who brings more scandalous attention. The front-office personnel
dallyingwiththenewstarplayer.I’msurethepresswouldfindamillionwaystomakethislooklike
thenextChuck-and-Bambi.They’dprobablyhaveafielddaywiththefactthatI’molderthanyou.”

Hewiggleshiseyebrows.“IknowI’mhavingafielddaywithit.”
Ilaugh.“Soyou’vegotathingforthishugefour-yearagedifference?”
“Absolutely,” he says, his eyes drifting down to his crotch. “A huge thing.” He zips up his pants.

“Sowasthatourlasthurrah?”

Ilaugh.“Morelikefirsthurrahandlasthurrah.Technically,wewouldneedmorehurrahsforitto

bethelast.”

Helaughstoo.“Damnshamewedidn’thavemore.Isurelikedhurrahingwithyou.”
“Theonlythingbetterwouldhavebeenafullhurrah.”
“Thatwouldhavebeenfantastic,Ibet,”hesays,asIstraightenmyskirtwhilehestartsthecarto

drivemehome.

Soon enough, we arrive at my house. Cutting the engine, he takes a breath and stares out the

windowintothedarkofthenight.Idon’tmakeamovetogo,thoughIknowIshould.

Withoutlookingatme,hesays,“Idon’tfeelfriendlytowardyou,Dani.”Heturnstomeetmyeyes.

Icanseetheheatinhis.“Factis,I’mevenmoreturnedonthanbefore.Didn’tthinkthatwaspossible.”

“Metoo,”Isay,myvoicefeathery.
Hetipshisforeheadtomyhome.“Youbettergetinsidethen,beforeItrysomethinglikemaking

youcomesofuckinghardonmylipsthatyou’llbewhistlingahappytunewhenyouwalkintowork
tomorrow.”

“Justsoyouknow,I’mabouttogetinbedandenjoythatimageyoujustplanted.”
Hegrins.“Justsoyouknow,you’llbeonallfoursonmybedinafewminutes.”
Andthatimagedoesthetrickquitenicelyformetoo.
Butsomeotherpartofme,thesanerpart,theprofessionalpart,knowsImusterasethesethoughts

ofhimgoingforward.Wehadourfirstandlasthurrah,andnomatterhowfarandfantasticallythe
aftereffectsofthetrafficjamspreadthroughmybody,it’stimetoletitgo.

ChapterSeven

Drew

Resistingheriseasyforthenexttwoweeks.TheseasonstartsandI’minthezone.

Thefirstgameisathomeandweplaylikeawell-oiledmachine.Iputtheteamaheadinthesecond

quarterwithaforty-yardpasstoElkins,whoturnsthatintoanabsolutelybeautifultouchdown.

Thecrowdgoeswild,andthesoundoftheircheersissuchahigh.WhenElkinschest-bumpsmeon

thesidelines,we’rebothgrinninglikefools.It’searlyinthegame,butitfeelssofuckinggood.

“Nicework,man,”Isay,andhedoesalittledance,thenflexeshisarms.
“ToldyouI’dgetitintheendzone.Yougetittome,andI’llbustmyasstoputthatballwhereit

belongs.”

“Soundslikeaplan.”
Hepointstohissocks.“Luckysocks.”
Maybehe’srightaboutthefootwear.Henailsanothercatchinthethird,andourtoprunningback

drivesithomeonfirstdown.

We finish with a twenty-four–fourteen victory, and it’s both a thrill and a relief. After Los

Angeles’stopsy-turvyrecordlastyear,anditsslewofoff-seasonproblems,thetightgameplayisall
anyonecouldaskfor,thecoachincluded.

Thenextweek,wetraveltoArizona,andwe’reonfireinthedeserttoo.Whenwewinoursecond

gamewitharunningtouchdowninthefourthquarter,Coachpullsmeasideonthewaytothelocker
room.

“You’relookinggood,Erickson.Keepupthestreak,”hesays,hisvoicegruff,becauseit’salways

gruff.

“Domybest,sir.”
After a light workout the next day and some game tape review, I catch up with Jason in Santa

Monicafordinner.There’sanewtacotruckhe’sbeenravingabout,andtacossounddamngoodto
me.

“Twoinarow,man.That’sthewaytodoit.”HeclapsmeonthebackwhenIjoinhiminlineatthe

redandyellowtrucknamedFlipper ’sTacos.

Igivehimtheside-eye.“Howthefuckisthatthenameofatacotruck?”
Jasontakesoffhisaviatorshades.Theycompletethelookhehasworking—thepressedpants,the

polished shoes, the tailored white shirt. By contrast, I’m in jeans, a T-shirt, and ball cap, thank you
verymuch.Heflashesmeagrinashetipshisforeheadtothevehicle.“Theguywhorunsthetruck
hasaChihuahuanamedFlipper.”

“Ah,well.Thatmakesperfectsensetonameatruckafteradog.”
Jasonpointspastthewindowtotheillustrationofsaidcanine.“There’sthemainman.”Helowers

hisvoice.“Bytheway,Flipper ’sownerisabigfanofyours.He’llprobablywantaselfiewithyou.
Youcoolwiththat?”

Inod,asIrollmynecksidetoside,tryingtoworkoutthekinks.“Absolutely.I’mallaboutsmiling

forthecamerathesedays.”

“Excellent. I figured the team would be happy too, since they love your good-guy-about-town

image.Theyreleasedsomeshotsofyoufromthatcharitythingyoudidafewweeksago.”

Iarchaneyebrowaswemoveupinline.Idon’tfollowthatstufftooclosely,butI’mgladJason

does.“Theydid?”

“Don’tworry.It’sallgood.Theteamlovesyou.Theylovethishappy,shinyfaceyouhavegoing

oninpublic,”hesays,claspingmychinandsqueezingmycheekslikeagrandma.

Ismackhishandaway.“Dude.”
Hecracksup.“Littledotheyknowyou’reasourpussoffthefield.”
“I’mnotsour.I’msweet,”Isay,withawink.
“Anyway,keepthisshitupandwecantieupsomedealsleftandright,makesomeofthedonations

you’ve wanted to,” he says, since part of my goal with Jason is not just financial security or smart
business;it’salsomakingsureIgivebacktosomeoftheorganizationsIleanedonwhenIwasakid
playingsports.It’sgoodtobeinapositiontoreturnthelove,andinabigway.

“Awesome.That’swhatIliketohear.”
“Andthatwasaniceshotofyouandthehotchickfromthefrontoffice.”
Myspinestraightens,andadoseofworryzipsthroughme.Shit.Aswirlofimagesoftheteam’s

troublesrushesbeforemyeyes—thecrashedcars,thepregnantteens,thedrug-usingplayers.Idon’t
wanttotarnishthegoodrepI’vehadforyears,ortheoneI’vemanagedinjustafewweeksherein
LosAngeles.Orhers.AndIcertainlydon’twanttoriskanythingbigger—likemyjob.“Whatdoyou
mean?”

“Isawitonline.Youandtheblondbabe.Therewasashotofthetwoofyouinfrontofthebanner.

Goodstuff,”hesays,thenturnsawayfrommewhenwereachthewindow.

Whew.
Idragahandthroughmyhair,remindingmyselfthatposingatacharityfunctionisnotinthesame

leagueasthepastproblems.Hell,it’shardlyevenonthesameplanet.

Butit’ssmarttobecareful.Andit’sagoodthingitwasn’tobviousfromthephotothatIwantedto

fuck her. Or that I nearly did later that same night. Well, her hand, if you want to get technical. Ah,
hell.NowI’mthinkingaboutscrewingDani,insteadoforderingfishtacosfromFlipper ’sperson.

Jasondropsahandtomyshoulderandintroducesmetotheguybehindthewindow.Timetoforce

out all thoughts of the woman I can’t have as my buddy says, “Drew, I want to introduce you to
Ramon.”

Atattooed,burlymanwithababyfaceextendshishandfrombehindthewindow.“Goodtomeet

you.Bigfan.Whateveryouwant.It’sonthehouse,”Ramonsays,gesturingbehindhimtothekitchen
onwheels.

Iwaveahand,dismissingtheoffer.“Appreciatethat,butI’mmorethanhappytopayforyourfine

food.AndIappreciatethecompliments.”

“AndI’dappreciateitifyoucanbringaringtoLosAngeles,”hesays,withawrysmile.
“Iwillabsolutelydomybest,”Isay,andwhenthefoodisready,Ramonrefusesthecash,soIstuff

afiftyinthetipjar.

Ramongrabshisphone,andwesmilefortheselfiecamera.
Weeat,thenJasonandIwanderalongthepromenade.Wepassthemovietheater,andIstopinmy

tracks when I read the marquee. “It’s tonight,” I say, my mind cycling back to Dani and our
conversationinthecar.

Jasonknitshisbrowinquestion.“HeavenCanWait?Thatoldflick?”
“Thatoldflickisagoodflick,man.”Icheckthetime.It’salmostseven.
“Youandyourloveofoldmovies,”hesays,shakinghishead,likeIamusehim.
“Then me and my love of old movies and new movies and any movies are going to catch this

showingnowsoIcanstillgetmybeautysleep.Seeyoulater.I’mgoingin.”

I’vealwayslovedthecinema.Thesilverscreenhadbeenmyescapefromthegame.Don’tgetme

wrong,Ilovefootball,andIloveplaying,butthegameisbothloveandwork.Movies,though,have
justbeenfun.They’repurethatway;they’veservedasacompleteandtotalbreakforme,andIfind
myselfgettinglostinthestory,whichIenjoy.That’swhatIwantrightnow.

I give Jason a tip of the cap and head for the ticket counter, when he calls out, “I’m going with

you.”

Iarchaneyebrow.“Toseethatoldflick?Idon’twanttocrampyournew,flashystyle.”
“I’lljustpretendIdon’tknowyou.It’llbefine.”
“ToobadIwasgonnatreat.NotsosureIwillnow,”IsayasIslapsomebillsatthecounterandbuy

thetickets.

He adopts a cheesy grin. “Aww, you did treat after all. See, you love me because I make your

moneyturnintomoremoney.”

“Or because being next to you makes me look even more handsome,” I say as we head into the

lobby,thedoorswingingclosedbehindus.

“Ormaybeyou’rebothhandsome.”
Istopinmytracks,snapmyheadaround,andfindmyselflookingatblondhair,highcheekbones,

andfulllips.

ShelooksalotlikeDani,butshe’snother.
Then,thestarofmydirtydreamsturnsaroundfromthepopcorncounter,andI’mface-to-facewith

the woman who jacked me off and finished me with her mouth two weeks ago. Damn, my fucking
brain races straight to the dirty. But, this woman. I stand no chance of not thinking of her that way.
Whydoesshehavetobesosinfullysexy?Daniwearsapinksundressandstrappysandals.Herhair
fallslooselyoverhertannedshoulders.Shestandsnexttoablue-eyed,slightlyyoungerversionof
herself.

“Hey,fourteen,”Danisays,usingmynumber.“Goodtoseeyou.”
“Andyoutoo.”
Danigesturestotheprettyblondebyherside.“Thisismysister,Ally.”
“And you must be the two gentlemen arguing over who’s better-looking,” Ally says with an I-

caught-youexpressiononherface.

JasonflubshislipsasheeyesDani’ssister.“It’snocontest,clearly.Youladiestakethecakeand

beatushandsdowninthegoodlooksdepartment.You’rebothlovelyangels,”hesays,thendoffsan
imaginaryhat,playingtheroleofperfectgentlemanashechecksoutAlly.

DaniandImakeintroductions,andIdomybestnottothinkabouthernaked.Buthell,mybestisn’t

goodenough,andI’vealreadypicturedhersoft,supplefleshbeneaththatdressandhowitwouldfeel
tokissmywaydownherbodyandburymyfacebetweenherlegs.

Keepingmymindcleanaroundherisalosingbattle.Goodthingis,thethoughtsofherdon’tchase

mearoundwhenI’monthefield.Theydon’tdistractmewhenI’minthezone,whenIneedthelaser
focus.

“ThisisDanifromthefrontoffice,”Isay,clearingmythroatandtryinglikehelltosweepawayall

thefilthfromthecornersofmymind.

Jason snaps his fingers. “Right. Thought you looked familiar. Saw you in a pic from the charity

meetandgreet.”

Daninods,herfacerevealingnothing.Thiswomanmustcleanupinpoker.“That’sfantastic.Are

youguysheadingtoseeHeavenCanWait?”

Jasonnods.“Weareindeed.”Then,liketheideaclearlyjustoccurredtohim,eventhoughIbethe

concocteditwhenhiseyesroamedalongAlly’sfigure,hesays,“Wouldyouliketosittogether?”

Dani swallows and turns to Ally, raising her eyebrows in question. Her sister nods her answer.

“Worksforme.”

Jasonstridesuptothecounter,picksupthecostoftheair-popped,extra-healthypopcornDaniwas

buying, and hands the bucket to her, buying another one as well. Jason and Ally chitchat the whole
time. Dani and I say nothing, but our eye contact seems to say everything. Mainly, that we’re both
entertainedathowquicklythosetwoarehittingitoff,itseems.

As we enter the movie theater, I drop back, letting Jason and Ally walk in front of us. “That was

fast,”Isay,noddingtothem.

“Itwas.Tellmehe’sagoodguy,”shesays,hertonedeadlyserious,herjawtight.
Iholdupmyhandinthescout’shonorsign.“He’slikeabrother.Itrusthimwithmylife.”
“Good.BecauseIwillhurtanyonewhohurtsmysister.Idon’tcareifthosetwojustmet.Ifhedoes

herwrong...”

Isqueezehershoulderinreassurance.“He’sagoodguy.Iswear.”
Sheseemstorelaxundermytouch,andfrommywords.IleanintoDani,drawingaquickinhaleof

hersexy,sunshinescent.“Bytheway,youlookamazing,”Iwhisper,myvoicelowandjustforher.A
littlecomplimentlikethatcan’thurt.Nothingwrongwithit.Nothingthatcrossesaline.

“Sodoyou.”
“Whatwerethechanceswe’drunintoeachotherhere?”Isayasweheaddowntheaisle.
“Prettygood,technically.Consideringwetalkedaboutthisbeingourfavoritemovie,andtonight’s

theonlytimeit’splaying.”

“Okaythen.Sothosearedamngoododds.”
“I’dsaythey’reasgoodasthewayyou’vebeenplayingthesedays.”Jasonstopsatamiddlerow

andheadsinfirst.Allyfollows,thenDani,thenme.Icouldn’tbehappierwiththeimpromptuseating
chart.

“You’vebeenwatchingme?”Iaskinawhisperaswesitintheredupholsteredchairs.
Sheflashesmeasweetsmile.“OfcourseI’vebeenwatchingyou.”
Thestupidityofmystatementcrashesintome.Somepartofmehadbeenhopingshewaswatching

me...forme.Butit’sherjob.Nothingmore.Besides,whydoIevenwanthertowatchmygame?We
can’t go anywhere with this . . . connection. Can’t take a chance of raising any concerns for Los
Angeles.Can'triskadamnthing.

“When you scrambled in the pocket in the first game, and it looked like you were about to get

sacked,mynerveswerefrayed,”shesays.“Butthenyoudodgedthedefensiveend...”

“...AndtossedashortpasstoFrayer,”Isay,namingthetightend,andfindingthatI’mgladshe

watchedtheKnightsafterall.Ilikehearinghertalkabouttheteam.

Asmilelightsupherface,likeshe’sdelightinginrecallingthegame.“Thatwasafantasticplay.

However,myfavoriteplaywaswhenyouranfortwentyyards.”

Iwigglemyeyebrows.“Youlikethat?I’mfastonmyfeettoo.Noone-trickponyhere.”
Shesqueezesmyrightarm.“Yougotthearmandthelegs.”Danioffersmesomeofherpopcorn,

shiftinggears.“Howgreatisitthatthistheaterhasair-poppedpopcorn?”

Ipatmyflatstomach.“Itwouldbeatravestyifthismovietheaterdidnothaveit.”
“Itwouldbeacompletemoviesnackdisaster.”
“I generally aim to avoid all cinematic food fiascos,” I say, and it’s as if we’ve returned to our

wordgame.Lasttimeweplayedwithadverbs;nowit’ssynonyms.Igesturetothepopcorn.“Thisis
indeedthegreatestthingsinceIcan’ttouchtheregularstuff.”

“Gottawatchyourprettyfigure,”shesayswithawink.
I steal a peek at my buddy. He’s busy chatting with Ally, so I bend my neck closer to Dani, and

speaksoftlyinherear.“ButI’dratherbewatchingyours.”Sheshivers,andjustlikethatIveerbackin
adirectionIshouldn’tgo.Butwe’reinatheater.Nothingdangerouscanhappenhere,soIkeepgoing.

“Touching you.” A small gasp falls from her mouth. “Kissing those lips.” A sharp inhale.
“Undressingyouandspreadingyououtonmybed.”

Shecloseshereyes,breathesin,andgrabsthearmrestbetweenus.Icanonlyimagineherbodyis

onfirerightnow,justlikemine.

Whensheopenshereyes,shemeetsmygazeandsays,“Funny.I’dratherbedoingthattoo.”
ThemoviebeginsandIwatchitwitharagingfuckinghard-on.

Dani

Watching the movie next to Drew is not the toughest thing I’ve ever done. After all, I did run a
marathonwhenIwastwenty-five.Igraduatedfromlawschoolwithhonors.Ialsonabbedafantastic
job,beatingoutmanyapplicants.

Thosewereallprettytoughonthescaleofchallengingtasks.
Butthis?SittingcloseenoughtoDrewthatIcansmelltheclean,masculinescentofhimisatall

order.AddinthefactthatIhaveabirds’-eyeviewofhisgorgeousarms,andthechallengemounts.
EventhoughIdesperatelywanttowrapmyhandaroundhisbicep,thenhistricep,thenhisforearms.

Imanagetosurviveallthatdesire.
Butthenhedoesthesweetestthing.Hemouthssomeofthelinesalongwiththescreen,including

onethebutlersaysaboutpretendingtogivetheherococoa.

And then Drew smiles. Not to anyone. Just to himself. Because he’s happy, truly happy, watching

thismovie.

WhenWarrenBeattycan’ttakehiseyesoffJulieChristieinthecar,Drewspeaksunderhisbreath,

sayingthelineswiththefilm’sstarabouthowhecan’tstoplookingather.

AlittleflutterbeginsinmychestwhenIhearthat.There’ssomethingridiculouslyendearingabout

aguywhoknowsthelinestothismovie.

Theflutterintensifieswhenheturnshisfacetowardme,andthecornerofhislipscurvesup.My

stomachcartwheels,andIwishwewerealoneinthistheater,becauseIcouldsomakeoutwithhim
rightnow.Likehighschoolers.AndI’mhalfhopinghedrapesanarmovermyshoulder,orreaches
formyhand,likehedidthatfirstdaywemet.Only,Iknowthatcan’thappennow.Andit’snotbecause
mysisterishere.I’mnotworriedshe’dseeusandblabtothepress,ormyboss.IdoubtJasonwould
standinthewayeither.

Itcan’thappenbecauseI’mprettysureDrewandIbothknowwherehand-holdingwouldlead.The

sameplaceanysortoftouchseemstogobetweenthetwoofus.Tomore.

Ifhetouchedmeinanyway,I’dunravel.I’dmelt.I’dwantallthethingsIcan’thave.
And.I.Can’t.Have.Him.
I dip my hand into the popcorn bucket, hunting for the final remains of the snack. I grab some

kernels,eatthem,thenreachformore.ThistimeDrew’sbigfingersbrushmine,andIgasp.Icover
mymouthwithmyotherhandatthesametimeDrewturnstomeandmouthsshhh.

Imanageasmallnodashethreadshisfingersthroughmine.Andweholdhandsinsideapopcorn

bucket.It’sweird,andstrange,butcompletelywonderfultoo.Becausethismannotonlyknowshow
to kiss, how to touch me in intimate ways, but he also knows how to hold hands. He squeezes my
fingers, then gently strokes his thumb across my palm, brushing light circles over my skin that
shouldn’tfeelasgoodastheydo.Buttheydo,ohGodtheydo.Somehow,he’smadeholdingmyhand
intoakindoferoticforeplay.Andthesimpleactofatendertouchhassetmyhearttoflames.

Bythetimethecreditsroll,I’mnotsureIcanstand.Mylegsarenoodles.Mypantiesaredamp.My

skinsizzles.SomehowImanagetoletgoofhishandandrise.Iblink,likeI’mreconnectingtothe

world,reenteringitsatmosphereofnormalcywhenI’dmuchratherbeintheextraordinaryrealmof
erotichand-holdingwiththissexy,sweetman.

Aswemakeourwayuptheaisle,heclearshisthroat.“Awesomemovie,”hesays.
“Absolutelythebestfootballmovie.”
“MaybeonlyTheBlindSidecomesclose.”
“OrVarsityBluesasadistantsecond.Butnotjustforthewhipped-creamscene.”
Heholdsuphisbighands.“IswearIdon’tevenrememberawhipped-creamscene.”
“Right,”Isay,teasing.
“Buttheyalltastebetterwithpopcorn,”hesays,andhiseyeslingeronmine.
It’snotjustphysical.There’sthestartofsomethingmorebetweenus.Theflickeroffeelings.
Wehaveasecret,onlythistimeitgoesdeeperthanitdidbefore.
Andit’swaymoredangerous.

ChapterEight

Drew

ThenextmorningJasonjoinsmeattheteamgymforaworkout.

HetipshischinatElkins,who’satthelegpress.“HeyElk.How’syourmomdoing?”Jasonasks.

“Isshefeelingbetter?”

Elkinssaluteshimandsmileswidely.“Muchbetter.Doc’sgotheronsomenewthyroidmeds.”
Jasongivesathumbs-up.“Awesome.Gladtohear.”
Elkinswipeshisforeheadonthehemofhisshirt.“Thanksforasking,man.”
Jasonnodsayou’rewelcome,thenstrokeshischin.“Yougrowingthatout?”
Elkinsstandsupfromthemachine.“Ilookgoodinfur,don’tyouthink?”
IclapJasonontheback.“Ifyoueverdecidetoshave,youknowthismanwillfindarazorcompany

who’dhappilyendorseyou,”Isaywithawink,knowingthatElkin’shairylookisprecioustohim.

Elkinsgrabsathisbeard.“Never,”hesayswithashudder.“Especiallyifwe’rewinning.”
Jasonpointsathim.“Youkeepnotshaving.I’llkeepshaving.”
“Deal,”Elkinssayswithafistbump,thenmovesovertotherowingmachineontheothersideof

theroom.

It’searlyandthereareonlyafewotherguyshere.Mosthaveearbudsinastheylift,soJasonandI

nodatafew,thensetupcampatthebenchpress.

“IhadthemeetingwithQwench.They’recrazyaboutyou,soI’vebeenlookingintothecompanya

littlemore.Toseeifit’sagoodfit,”hesaysasIadjusttheweights.

“What’stheverdict,Mr.Monopoly?”
Hepatsthesilverbar.“Notsureyet.Ineedtodigalittledeeper.”
I peer at him as I lie back on the bench and wrap my palms around the bar. His expression is

serious.Hiseyesintense.“Thatsounds...ominous.”

“Just doing my research. That’s all,” he says and flashes a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry. You

knowIwon’tletyoutakeadealthatisn’tfuckingamazing.”

Iliftthebarashespotsme.“Iknowthat.”
“They like your squeaky-clean image,” he continues as he spots me. He winks. “Good thing you

didn’tgotoPiccolo’swithusafewweeksago.Man,thechickswereeverywhere.”

Iscowl.“Prettysurewomenarenotexplicitlyforbiddeninmycontract.”
Helowershisvoice.“No,butit’sgoodtobecautiouswhenyou’retryingtorehabapublicimage.”
Somethingaboutthecommentbristlesme.“Hey,it’snotmyimage.I’vealwaysbeengood.”
“Theteam’simage,man,theteam’s,”hesaysasIpushuptheweightsagain.“Andnowyouandthe

teamareoneandthesame.Anyway,Ilikethesoundofthedeal.Iwantittoworkout,that’swhyI’m
goingtospendsomemoretimeonit.Becauseifwecanmakeitwork,itcangiveyousomefinancial
security,andprotectyouifthingsdon’tworkoutinLA.”

IarchaneyebrowasIsettheweightsintheholder.“Areyoutryingtosayyoudon’tthinkI’lllast

here?”

I sit up straight and Jason shoots me a withering stare. “You know I do, man,” he says, his brow

furrowed.“What’swithyouthismorning?You’recomingatmeallgunsblazing.Doyouneedtoget

laid?”

Igritmyteethanddrawasharpinhale.DoIeverneedtogetlaid.Withonewoman.Only,itfeelsa

lotmorethanthatalreadywithDani.Whichiscrazy,sinceI’veonlyseenherahandfuloftimes.Butit
feelsliketherecouldbesomethingmorebetweenus.Thechemistryissizzling,butwealsogeteach
other.Welikethesamethings,wefallintoaneasyrhythm,weconnect.

“Don’tweallman,don’tweall,”Isaywithaforcedlaugh,tryingtomakelightofthecomment.

Maybeeventodeflectit.

Hedoesn’tletgo.Glancingaroundfirst,hedropshisvoicesoI’mtheonlyonewhocanhear.“Is

theresomethingupwithyouandthelawyer?”

Ilowertothebenchagain,myeyesfocusedontheceiling.Idon’tlookatJason.Idon’tlikelying

tohim.“Nope.”

Meanwhile, I wonder how the fuck he could tell during the movies, especially when he was all

aboutAlly.“Buttheresureseemedtobesomethingupwithyouandhersister.”

Jason grins, and he’s never a big smiler, so I know that means he’s into her. As one of the other

guysgruntswhileliftingsomeheavyweights,Jasonsays,“Shewascool.I’mgoingtotexthertoday.
Maybeseeaboutgettingcoffeeoradrink.”

He can see her easily. He doesn’t have to worry about unwritten rules, or playing fast and loose

withtheteam’spublicimage.“Soundslikeaplan.”

“Andbacktoyounow,”hesays,surveyingtheweightroomoncemore.Coastisclear.“Theone

weweretalkingaboutaminuteago.You’reintoher,aren’tyou?”

“Whydoyousaythat?”
“Justseemedkindofobvious.IguessthesamewayyoucouldtellIwasintohersister.”
There’s no point denying it now. He’s already sniffed out the truth. Besides, he’s my best bud.

Keepingmyvoicelow,Isay,“Wehookedupbeforetheseasonstarted.BeforeIwastraded.Butwe
cooleditwhenwerealizedwewereplayingforthesameteam,andthatitcouldcomplicatethings.”

Henods,patstheweightbaragain.“Smartmove.Besttojustkeepfocusedonthegame.”
“Youthinkso?”
Hetapshisfingerstohistemples,oursignforblinders.“Absolutely.Notimefordistractions.It’s

much better to wake up to a photo of you and the taco truck owner than some piece about how the
quarterbackisfuckingthemanagement,”hesays,andthestarkbutrealisticwayheputsitremindsme
onceagaintokeepmyeyeontheprize.Thefield.Onlythefield.

That’swhatIdo.
Myfirstandmostimportantloveisfootball.Itneedsmyfullattention.Mydevotion.That’swhatI

giveit.

WhenIstepontothefieldthatweekend,Isavorthesmellofthegrass,thethunderofthecrowd,the

rushoftheadrenalinepumpingthroughmyblood.Inthehuddle,I’mallbusiness,andtheKnightsare
ascrispascrispcanbe.

Wewinthegame,andsomehowwepulloffthatwonderfulfeatagainthenextSundaytoowhenwe

pummelDallasontheirfield.

Fourforfour.
“Talkaboutafuckingstreak,”ElkinsshoutswhenIenterthelockerroomafterthegame.Hehigh-

fivesme,andabunchoftheotherguysdotoo.

I hold my arms out wide. “All I do is throw ’em. You’re the one who has to catch ’em,” I say,

becauseElkinsiskillingitinthatdepartment,andhemadeitintotheendzonetwiceintoday’sgame.

Weridethathighonthejethomewithfistbumps,struts,andshit-eatinggrinsgaloreaswereach

our cruising altitude. I sink into the cushy leather seat, happy as a clam, since I just can’t complain
abouta4–0recordforthefirstmonthonthejob.Theonlythingthatwouldmakeitbetterisagood

woman.

ButI’lltakewhatIcanget.
Thenextweek,it’smorethanIexpect.

ChapterNine

Drew

“I’mgoingtoschoolyouagain!”

ThetauntcomesfromTaylor,thekidI’vebeenbattlinginwhack-a-mole.
“Don’tcountmeoutyet.”Iliftthemalletandsendawoodenmolebackintooblivion.
“You can’t catch up,” Taylor says again, a huge grin on his thin but gleeful face, as I chase the

vicious little moles in the game. I’m at Santa Monica Pier for an event to benefit the children’s
hospital, and the new wing that just opened there. The team donated a huge amount to have it built.
I’veplayedarcadegameswithafewkids,andI’mgoinghead-to-headinyetanotherroundofwhack-
a-molewiththistenaciousten-year-oldwhohaskickedcancer ’sass.

He’sbeatenmenearlyeverysingletime.Andthistimetoo.Asmyroundends,Iraiseahandand

high-fivehim.“Taylor,youarethekingofwhack-a-mole,”Isay,thrustinghisfisthighintheair.

Fromacrossthearcade,aphotographersnapsashot.Idon’tmind,butIwasn’tplayingthisround

forthesakeofthepicture.IwasplayingitbecauseTaylorisafunkidanddeservestohaveagood
time.He’safiercecompetitortoo,andIadmirethehelloutofthat.Iknockfistswithhim,andtellhim
as much. “Now listen, Taylor. When you get back to fifth grade, I want you to tell everyone you
kickedmybuttatwhack-a-mole.Canyoudothat,myman?”

Hebeams.“Icandothat,andcanyouwinagainnextweekendagainstSanFrancisco?”
Ilaughandclaphimontheshoulder.“I’mgonnadomybest.”
Heheadsofftojoinhisparents,andIreturntothegameforaquicksoloround.
AsIclobberamole,aprettyvoicefloatsintomyear.“Careful.Youdon’twanttogetanNFI.”
Slammingthepaddedhammerdownonthewoodenweasel,Ianswerwithagrin.“You’reright.”

Thenextmolesubmitstomyspeedwiththehammer.“CanyouevenimaginetheridiculeI’dsuffer
forawhack-a-mole-inducedinjury?That’dbeonehelluvanonfootballinjury.”

Danistepsclosertothegameandrestsherhandonthebackoftheconsole.“Somuchridicule.It

would be the talk of the town,” she says with a playful shudder. I sneak a glance at her and my jaw
drops.Hell,ifshedoesn’tlookhottonight.Sohot,infact,thatImissthenextfivewhacks.Maybeten.
Butthewomaniswearingagoddamnreddress.It’satightsheaththathitsaboveherknees,andshe
looksgoodenoughtoeat.

AllIwanttodoiseather.
“Ithoughtyouwereawhack-a-molepro,”shesays,ateasinglittlelilttohertoneassheeyesthe

gameboard.ThemolespopupandImissnearlyeveryone.I’dratherstareather.

“Iwas,untilTaylorgavemeagoodold-fashionedthrashing.”
“I saw that,” she says softly. “I was chatting with some of my colleagues by the Skee-Ball. And I

lovethatyouspenttimewithTaylor,andtheotherkids.”

“He’sagoodkid.Wehadfun.”
“Theyadoreyou.Allthekidsheredo.It’sgreatthatyoucomeoutforthis.”
A blush creeps across my cheeks, and I’m not a blushing guy. But I like hearing these sweet

complimentsfromher.“Now,whatkindofmanwouldIbeifIdidn’t?It’stherightthingtodo,and
it’salsofunashell.”

She smiles at me and all my appropriate thoughts fade away. My body says kiss her. My fucking

heartsaystodothattoo.Thiswomanjustdoessomethingtome,andlikeaninvisiblethreadconnects
us, I feel a pull. Desire gets the better of me. It blots out everything else—the game, the rules, the
team’s image. It erases all the reasons, personal and professional, that I need to be cautious. Right
now,Iwanttobetheopposite.

I inch toward her, and her eyes widen to saucer size. I freeze as she raises her chin, and mouths

“smileforthecamera.”

Damn.Shedistractsmewithherbeauty.Knocksmeoffmycool,calmcenterbecauseIwantherso

goddamnmuch.I’vegottobemorecareful.

Iturnandflashagrinatthephotographerwho’sbeenmakingtherounds.Danismilestoo,andthe

guygivesusathumbs-upbeforeheheadsofftoanothergroup.

“Closecall,”Isayundermybreath.
“Wereyougoingtotrytokissme?”
Inod.“Iwouldthinkthatwasobvious.”
“Itwasobvious.”
I lean a hip against the game. “I know I shouldn’t have, but seeing as I was a good boy and

restrainedmyself,letmeaskthequestion—whatwouldyouhavedoneifIhadkissedyou?”

Asweetsmiletugsatherlips.“Probablykissedyouback.Againstmybetterjudgment.”
Iwaveahandintheairdismissively.“Screwjudgment,”Isayplayfullyandshelaughs.
Butafewsecondslater,goodjudgmentreturnsintheformofStuart.Heswoopsinandshakesmy

hand.“Greatnight.Greatevent.Couldn’tbemorepleased.You?”

Inod.“Everythingisfantastic.”
“Wonderful.” He takes a beat, glances from Dani to me and back. For a split second, something

inquisitivepassesinhiseyes,andaflurryofnervesracedownmyspine.AlmostlikehowIfeelwhen
Ican’tfindareceiverandI’mabouttogetsacked.Butthat’sfoolish,Itellmyself.Ineedtochillout.
Especially since Stuart’s next question is nice and easy. “We’ve got a request from eight-year-old
Hannah,whojusthadcorrectivesurgeryonherankle,foraroundofSkee-Ballwiththequarterback.”

“Saynomore.I’mthere.”
“He’sgreatatSkee-Ball,”Danichimesin,andStuartcockshisheadtotheside,asifhe’scurious

howsheknowsthislittletidbit.Thatfeelingstartsupagain,butDani’saproathandlingStuart.

Shenarrowshereyebrows,andholdsoutherhands.“Duh.He’sthequarterback.Ifhecan’twinat

Skee-Ball,weshouldkickhimofftheteam.”

“Yes,weabsolutelyshould.”Theoldermanadoptsasternlook,shakeshisindexfingeratme,and

says,“Son,you’regoneifyoudon’tbeatDaniinSkee-BallafteryourroundwithHannah.”

Iexhale,relievedashellthathedidn’tpickuponavibe.Orworse,startsniffingoutwhatwe’ve

beenupto.Butthen,maybeitwascuriosityIsawinhiseyes?

Ichaseawaythethoughts.
Weheadovertothegames,andalittleredheadwithfrecklesacrosshernosehandsmeaball.“You

gofirst,”Hannahsayswithaserioustone.

“Gotmyselfquiteacompetitorhere,”Isay,andthenweplay.
Thistime,Idowin.Byalandslide.AndafterItakeonafewmorekids,IplayaroundwithDani.

She’sgood,butI’mnotthequarterbackfornothing.Iknowhowtoaim.Iknowhowtothrowballs.I
knowhowtohittargets.Theskillscarryover,andIbeathertoo.

Then,sincemostofthekidsaregone,oneofmyreceiverschallengesme,andIobviouslycan’t

turnthatdown,soIwindupplayingSkee-BallwithElkinsforanothertwentyminutes.

By the time I’m done, Dani is gone. When I return home and check my phone, there’s a text

messagewaitingforme.

Dani:DidyoudestroyElkins?
Idon’ttextback.Icall.Becausethat’ssafe.ThatIcando.Icantalktoher,andIwon’tstepacrossa

lineIneedtomaintain.

“Itwasacompleteannihilationofmyteammate,”Isay.“AllthemoreimpressiveconsideringIwas

distractedbythishotblondemostofthetime.”

“Wereyounow?”
“I was,” I say, as I settle into my couch. “She’s gorgeous and whip smart, and she shows up at

placesIdon’texpecther.”

“Likethebeach,andthemovies,andthepier?”
“Exactly.She’severywhere.”
“Haveyoueverconsideredshemightbestalkingyou?”Daniasksinaserioustonethatmakesme

laugh.

“I’lltakethatkindofstalking.Maybeshe’llstalkmeallthewayovertomybed,andstripnakedfor

me,”Isay,knowingfullwellshewon’t,butlovingtheimage.

“That sounds like my kind of stalking too.” She sighs, and it’s a happy sound. “How was your

day?”

Andthensuddenly,we’renottalkingaboutsex,orflirting,orhowtheotherpersonlooks.Itellher

about practice, and the deal Jason is looking into with Qwench, and how I think it can position me
wellforthefutureifitpansout.

“Ohhhhh.”Hervoiceisheavy.
Isitupstraight.
“Whatisit,Dani?”
Shemakesaclickingsound.“Here’sthething.Theycametousaboutsupplyingatthestadium.And

sinceIhandleallthevendorcontracts,IspentalotoftimelookingintodoingadealwithQwench.
Thisisn’tterriblywellknown,butIfoundsomeinformationthatthecompanywasbeinginvestigated
fortaxfraud.”

“Shit.Youdid?”Iask,blowingoutalongstreamofair.
“Yes,sojustbecareful.IfJasonwantstoknowanythingmore,tellhimtocontactme.Butit’sbest

totreadcarefully.”

“Hellyeah.I’lldefinitelylethimknowsincehe’slookingintoitrightnow.”Reachingforapenon

mycoffeetableandascrapofpaper,IwritemyselfanotetomentionallofthistoJason.“Andthanks
forthetip.”

“Tellmeaboutthisguy,”Danisays,hertonewarmandcurious.Ilikethatshewantstoknowabout

mybestbud.“Especiallysincemysisteriskeenonhim.”

“Andhe’skeenonhertoo.”Ilaunchintothedetails,howwegrewuptogether,whathisfriendship

meanstome,howIrelyonhimforeverything.“Weusedtobiketoschooltogetherstartingwayback
inthirdgrade.Ourparentsworkedtheirassesoffandneitheroneofushadmuch,andsportswere
everything to us. We were those kids you see around the neighborhood, shooting hoops and riding
bikes.Webikedtopracticetogether,tothebasketballcourtsintheoffseason,tothecommunitypool
inthesummer.Wejustgotupanddidit.”

“Becauseyoulovedit.Becauseitwasyourheart.Youcouldn’tnotdoit,”Danisays,justgettingit.

Gettingus.

“Exactly.Andeventhoughweplayedfootballtogetherinhighschool,JasonknewthenthatIwas

morelikelytogopro.Idon’tmeanthattobecocky,buthewastheonewhosaidit.Itwascrazy,but
hecouldtell.Hebelievedinme,andkindoflookedoutformebackintheday.”

“Howso?”
“Helped me weigh the different offers from college teams. Went over them one by one to really

figure out the best fit. He’s always done that for me. Makes sure I’m considering everything. Just
looksoutformelikeabrother.”

“He’syourhorseman,”shesayswarmly.
“Yeah.Heis.ButIonlyhaveone.Don’tneedfourlikeLeBron,”Isay,sincethebasketballplayeris

famousforrelyingonhisfourbestfriendsfromchildhoodtohelpwithhisbusinessdecisions.“What
aboutyouandyoursister?You’reclose,right?”

“Very close. She’s one of the reasons I work so hard. I love my job, but I’m also taking care of

her,”shesays,andthenIlearnshe’sputtinghersisterthroughnursingschool.“Iwasveryfocused
myfirstfewyearsoutoflawschool,workinglatenightsandgettingahead,butitwastimewellspent
since I could pay off all my school loans. Now, I’m in a position to help her so she can just
concentrateonschoolnow,andthenonbeinganursepractitionerwhenshegraduates.”

“Damn.That’simpressive,”Isaywithawhistle.
“She’sworthit.Andhey,I’llhavesomeonetotakecareofmeinmyoldage.”
“Ha.It’sgoodthatfamilycandothat,”Isay,thenglanceattheclock.Ninep.m.Ineedtobeawake

inninehoursforarun.

“Ishouldletyougetyoursleep,”shesays,asifreadingmymind.
“Wait.Youcan’tgowithoutmetellingyouhowgorgeousyoulookedtonight.”
“Byallmeans.Tellme.”
IscrubahandacrossmychinasIrememberhowshelooked.Mycockstirsatthememory.“As

soonasIsawyouIwasthinkingaboutunzippingthatdressyouworeandhavingmywaywithyour
body.”

There’sapauseonthephone,arustlingofsheets.“YouwerethinkingaboutmenakedattheSkee-

Ballmachine?”

Ilaugh.“Can’thelpmyself.IseeyouandIthinkaboutyounaked.Ihopeyoudon’tobjecttothe

wayIundressyoumentally.”

“Ihopeyoudon’tobjectthatIdothesamething.”
“Youpicturedmeinmybirthdaysuit?”Iaskandmydicknowgivesafullandproperhellowhen

shesays,“Isuredid.”

Isinkdeeperintothecouch,myhanddriftingdownmychest.“HowdidIlook?”
“Drew,youhaveabeautifulbody.I’dliketoseeitnaked.Isn’tthatclear?”
I chuckle at her directness, then groan at her words. She makes me laugh and she turns me on.

“Damnshameyouhaven’tstrippedmedown.”

“Areyounakednow?”
“No,butIalsoknowbetterthantosendanakedselfie.”
Shecracksup.“Iwasn’taskingforone.Butwhydon’tyoutellmewhatyou’redoing...”
“Myhandisinmyshortsnow,”Isay,asIreachintothewaistbandandgrabmydick.IgroanasI

stroke.Fuck,itfeelsgoodtogetsomerelief,especiallyasIhearhervoice.Besides,thisistheonly
waywecandealwithallthisfuckinglust.Phonesex—Ineeditbadnow.

“Areyourubbingthatfantasticcockofyours?”
Iwrapafistaroundmyhard-onandstrokedowntothebase,thenbackuptothehead,squeezingat

thetip.Ajoltofpleasureripplesthroughmybody,andIpushmyshortsdowntomyknees,freeing
mydickcompletelyfromtheconfinesofclothes.“Iam.Wishingitwereyourhand,yourmouth,your
pussy.”

“Mmmm,”shesayshervoicetakingonasexypurr.“Iwantthattoo.Tellmewhatyouwantmost

rightnow.”

Ipumpfaster,harder,desiresurgingthroughmybodyasIanswerher.
Ifyouwerehererightnow,I’dgetdownonmyknees.

Worshipyourbodywithmytongue.
Bendyouovermycouch.Raiseyourass,lickyourpussylikethat.
Makeyoucomeonmyface.
Shemoansloudly,andit’salong,lastingsound.“OhGod,thatsoundssohot.Iwantthatsomuch,”

shesaysbreathily,andIpictureherhandbetweenherlegsrightnow,herfingersflying,herthighs
spreadwide.

Theimagesmakemeharder,aslustrattlesthroughmyveinswitheveryroughstroke.“Iwantto

make your legs shake, your knees weak. Want you to tremble as I kiss you between your legs, and
fuckyouwithmytongue.”

Herbreathcatches,andhermoansturnintoacry.
“Areyoufuckingyourself?”
“Iam,”shesaysonaloudpant.
“Andyou’repicturingwhatI’msaying?”
“Perfectly.”
Igriptighter,myfistflying.“Youwantmetoeatyoursweetlittlepussy,don’tyou?”
“Iwantthatsomuch.”
My hand shuttles up and down my length, desire shooting through my body. I punch my hips,

fuckingmyfistharderandfaster.“I’dmakeyoucomesofuckinghard,thenI’dputyouonallfours,
andslideintoyou.I’dtakeyoulikethat,Dani.I’dfuckingtakeyousohard.”

Shecriesout,hersoundstellingmeshe’snearingtheedge.I’msogoddamnclosetoo,andIcan’t

stoptellingherwhatIwantrightnow.

Grabyourhair.
Pullitinmyfist.
Gripyourhips.Driveintoyou.Fillyoualltheway.
WatchyourbackbowasIfuckyou.
“OhGod,pleasefuckme,pleasefuckme,pleasefuckme,”shesays,callingout,crying,chanting,

begging,asshecomesundoneonthephonetotheimageIpainted.

Seconds later, my visions blurs, and an orgasm barrels down my spine, as I come in a powerful

releasethatmakesmewantherevenmore.

AfterIcleanup,Ilaughlightlyandsay,“CanIcomeovernow?”
“Iwish.Iwantthatsomuch.”
Isitupstraightonthecouch,draggingahandthroughmyhair.I’matoncesatisfiedandfrustrated.

“Don’tgetmewrong.Thatwasawesome.ButIreallywanttherealthingrightnow.”

Shechuckles.“Youhaveavoraciousappetite.”
“Ido.ButI’malsoaphysicalman.ThatmeansIliketouchingyou,andit’skillingmewhenIsee

youinpublictonottouchyouthewayIwant.Idon’tevenmeanthedirtystuff,Dani.Imeangiving
you a kiss when you show up at the whack-a-mole game. Putting my arm around you in between
Skee-Ball rounds. Taking your hand in mine as we leave together,” I say, and she sighs softly. It
soundswistful.

“Iwishwecoulddothattoo.”
Asurgeofadrenalinecoursesthroughme,andI’mreadytorushdownthefieldrightnow.“Isit

reallysuchabadthingifweweretogether?Ijustdon’tknowthatIseeitthatway,”Isay,becauseI’m
not a triple baby daddy to three different moms who just knocked up a fourth girl. Dani’s not a
nineteen-year-oldfresh-off-the-buscheerleader.I’mnotsmashingcarsortrashinghotelrooms.I’m
justatwenty-six-year-oldguywho’sgothisshittogetherandwantstogooutwithawomanheworks
with—awomanwhohasheracttogethertoo.Thatadrenalinefuelsme,pushesmeon.Maybeit’sthe
orgasm high, or maybe it’s just reality. But is this so wrong for me to want to at least pursue

somethingwithher?Mygameison,we’veplayedlikerockstars,andthewayIfeelforherhasn’t
hurtmeonthefieldatallsofarthisseason.WhateverDaniandIhavehadsofar—clandestineasitis
—hasn’tdoneanounceofharm.TheonlyissueIseenowistheteam,andIjustdon’tthinkDaniand
meareaproblemfortheKnights.“DidyouseehowStuartlookedatyou,thenatmetonight?Itwas
almostlikehewaspleased,”Isay,andIcan’tmaskthenoteofhopeinmyvoice.Idon’tknowthatI
agreewithJason’sassessmentanymoreontherisksofbeingwithDani.

“Ididseethelookonhisface,”shesayscautiously.
“Buthedidn’tseemsuspicious.Morelikecurious.”
“Maybe.”
“So,MissMaybe.Whatdoyouthink?Canwemakeagoofthis?Canwefigureoutawaytonot

havetofuckinghideorjustsettleonphonesex?I’dliketotakeyoutothemovies,andthentakeyou
home.”

Shesighs.“I’dlovethat.Trustme.I’dreallylovethat.Ijustneedtothinkonwhetherthat’sreally

going to be okay. This is a risk, and I have to think about how to navigate the risk,” she says, ever
careful,whileI’mreadytochargefullspeedaheadintodanger.“AllIknowis,Iwishyouwereon
yourwayovernowtoo.”

ButIdon’tgoover,ofcourse.
AndI’mbeginningtowonderhowmuchlongerwecanlastlikethis.

ChapterTen

Dani

Asabeautifulbluecrestswells,Idropintoit,poppingupontomyboardasecondlater.Mymindisas
crystal clear as the sky above. In this moment, all that matters is the wave and the chance to ride it
withoutcrashing.It’scontrolandlettinggo,andwhenthesurfingisbest,it’sbothatthesametime.
Likenow,asthemorningsunwarmsmyshouldersandtheoceanletsmetakeitforajoyride.

WhenI’mdone,Ipaddletotheshore,bringmyboardoutofthesand,andturnoncemoretowatch

thevastexpanseofthesea.Surfingismyescape,butit’salsomypleasure.It’sbeenmyoutlet,myfun,
thethingIdowhenI’mnotworking.Todaythough,ithasanotherbenefit.Itgivesmeclarity,andI
knowasIheadhomeandwashoffthesandthatIneedtotrytofindawaytohaveboth.

IwantDrew.Iwantwork.Iwantthatfinebalanceinmylifewithoutfalling.
Morethanthat,I’malsoconfidentwe’renotaproblem.Onceuponatime,Iwasterrifiedofhowa

pairingbetweenthetwoofuswouldlook.Now,withmytimetodayonthewater,thegreatoutdoors
hasdonewhatit’ssogoodat—givenmeacalm,clearsenseofcertainty.

Here’s what I know from both the evidence in the past, and from my own gut. The trouble that

playersraineddownupontheteamwashonest-to-goodnesstrouble.Thoseplayerscouldneverhave
asked permission for what they did because what they did was wrong. But Drew and I are in a
different place. We can ask permission and that’s the key difference between the past woes and my
presentwish.

I’mnotsurehowtogetthere.Idon’tknowwhentojumpintothewaveorwhentoleapout.ButI

knowthismuchasIdriveintowork—Ineedtotestthewaters.Iwanttoputmyselfoutthere.Andthat
meansit’stimetoatleasthaveaconversationwithStuart.I’mnotsurethatI’lltellhimeverything.
I’mnotsurethatI’lltellhimanything,forthatmatter.I’mnottheonlyoneinvolvedinthissituation,
soIwon’tdoanythingtocompromiseDrew.ButDrewmadeitclearlastnightonthephonethathe’s
ready.Iwanttofindaway,andthatstartswithtalkingabouttheissuesandthechallenges.

AsIparkinthestadiumlot,AllycallsandwecatchuponherdatewithJasonlastnight.
“Youreallylikethisguy?”IaskasIwalkacrosstheasphalt.
“Um,yeah.Haven’tyoubeenlistening?”
“Iheardeveryword.I’mjustmakingsure,”IsayasIgrabthehandleandopenthedoortothefront

office.“I’vegottolookoutformybabysister.”

“AndIthankyouforthat.Butrestassured,he’satotalgentleman,andasweetheart,andhemakes

melaugh,andhealsohaslikeaneight-inch—”

Icutheroff.“—Lalalala.I’mpretendingyoudidn’tsaythat.”
Shecracksup.“What?DidyouthinkIwastheVirginMary?”
“No,Ijustdon’twanttohearaboutDrew’sbestfriend’sWienerschnitzel.”
“DoesthatmeanyouandDrewaregoingtodateforrealnow?Whichwouldmeanyou’dbeina

situationwhereyou’reoutandaboutwithDrewandme,andJasonandhisWienerschnitzel?”

Ishakemyheadinamusement.“No,no,andno.Becausehe’sstilloff-limits.”Iheaddownthehall

tomyoffice.

“Andthatisacryingshame.”

“Butmaybethatcanchange,”Isaysoftly,floatingtheidea.
Allylatchesontoit.“Really?Whatareyougoingtodo?”
“Ihonestlydon’tknow.ButIthinkIshouldatleasttalktoStuart.Trytounderstandwhat’spossible.

IknowhowtoaskthingswithoutimplicatingmyselforDrew.Justtoassessthesituation.”

“Youshould.Youtotallyshould,”shesays,herenthusiasmloudandclear.
It’severythingIneedtohear.
AsIentermyofficeItellhergood-bye,setdownmyphoneandpurse,andsettleinatmydesk.By

tenI’veplowedthroughacontractfromavendor,andbyten-thirty,I’verespondedtosomeemails
from colleagues needing legal eyes. At eleven, I dive into some research on employee-player
relationshipstoseewhatIcanfindout.There’snotmuchoutthere.Withverylittleprecedent,I’llbe
wingingthis.Butit’swhatIneedtodo.Itakeadeep,fuelingbreath,pushbackinmychair,andstand
upsoIcanfindStuart.

Only,there’snoneedtotrackhimdown.He’sknockingonmyopendoor.Mystomachnosedives.

I’mhardlyready.Idon’tknowwhattosay,orwhatI’mevenaskingfor.Igulp,tryingtosortoutthe
piecesofmybizarrelovelifeinmymind.HeyStu,whatwouldyouthinkifIdatedthequarterback?
Stuart...areyouone-hundredpercentpositivethatit’sahorridideafortheteamlawyertodatea
player?WhatifItoldyouIwantedtoaskthequarterbackonadate?Ahot,sexy,dirty,wilddate...

Igulp.
“Comein,”Isay,gladhecan’treadmymind.
Heclapshishandstogether.“HeyDani.”
“HeyStuart.”
Iwaitforhimtogonext.Ipointtothechairacrossfrommydesk,andheplopsdowninit.“About

lastnight...”

Isitupstraighter,nervestightening.“Thechildren’shospitalevent?”
Henodsandpoints.“Bingo.”
“Whataboutit?”Iaskcarefully,worrythrummingthroughme.DidheoverhearthethingsDrew

saidtomeatwhack-a-mole?Inthatinstant,acoldfearseepsintomybones.JustbecauseIwasabout
tomarchintohisofficeforaheart-to-heartdoesn’tmeanhe’llembracemywisheswithopenarms.
Notatall.Infact,chancesareI’vemiscalculated.

Badly.
Allmyclarityfromearlierslinksoutthedoor,andI’mleftwithonlyhardcoldfacts.Ineedthis

job.Itakecareofmysister.Itakecareofmyself.Ican’triskthis.

“Youandnumberfourteen,”Stuartsays.
Aweightlodgesinmychestashismeaningbecomescrystalclear.Somuchformyplantotakethe

temperatureonapossibleout-in-the-openrelationship.Besttoreelinthatbadlittleidea,andactlike
nothinghashappened.

Stuartclearshisthroat.“DidIpickuponavibe?”
Ifrown,doingmybesttoappearthoroughlyconfused.“Whatvibedoyoumean?”
Heholdsouthisphoneandslideshisthumbacrossthescreen.Theweightsinksdownintomygut.

Ohshit.Ohhell.Pictures.Someonehaspicturesofus.That’showplayersgetbusted.Cellphonesare
thedevil.

Mybodyisahigh-tensionline.EverymuscletightenswiththefearthatI’mgettingtheboot.That

I’mrainingscandaldownontheteam.Eventhoughthereasonablesideofmeasks,forwhat?Butthe
reasonablesideofmeisparkedinthebackseat.DefensiveDani,whocandartanddodge,isdriving
thecarnow.Doesn’tmatterthatIwashopingtoaskforpermission.Nowit’stimetoplaycover-up
andsaveourasses.

Stuartturnsthescreeninmydirectionandshowsmeaphotofromlastnight.It’sonsomesports

newsandgossipsite.TheshotisDrewandmebywhack-a-mole.There’snothinginappropriateinit.

“Cute pic,” he says, then swipes the screen again and displays another. “Just like this one the

reporterfound.”

HeshowsmeapictureI’veseenbefore—theonetakenatthefirsteventatthehotel.It’sashotofus

bythebannerforthecharity.

“Andthatgaveyouavibe?”Iaskkeepingmytoneeven,revealingnothing.
Stuartscratcheshishead.“Alittle.ButthenIcameacrossthisshot.”Hehandsmethephoneonce

more,andIjerkmyheadback.ThepictureshowsthefourofusleavingHeavenCanWait. It looks
likeitwastakenfromadistance.Ihavenocluewherethatcamefrom.Ididn’tthinkDrewwasatthe
levelofpaparazzistalkinghim.

“Where’sthatfrom?”Iaskoutofsheercuriosity.
“Flipper ’sTacoTruckpostedit.OwnersaidhemetDrewearlierthatnight.ThatDrewenjoyeda

couplefishtacos,thenmovieswithfriends.”

ThecornerofmymouthdarestocurveupasIrememberthemovie,andhowweheldhandsina

popcorn bucket. I lower my face while the memory washes over me, bringing a rush of warmth
acrossmyskin.Lookingup,Ischoolmyexpression,puttingthepokerfaceononcemore.“Weran
intoeachother.Iwaswithmysister,andhewaswithhisfriend,soweallsawthemovietogether,”I
explain,feelinglikeI’vebeencalledintotheprincipal’sofficeeventhoughStuart’snotmyboss.But
heisinchargeoftheteam’simage,andthat’swhat’satstake.

“Youtwojustseemed...”Hepauses,weighinghiswords.“Forgivemeforplayingmatchmaker,

butyouseemedlikeyoulikedeachother.”

Iswallow,sayingnothing.
He shrugs and flubs his lips. “Guess I was wrong. And that’s completely fine. Part of me was

hopingIwasright,though.”

His words don’t compute. For a moment, I’m sure I’ve misheard him. He can’t have said what I

thinkhesaid.“Excuseme?”

“Gotta say, Dani, you two seemed like a happy couple. Like there was something brewing.

Personally,IwashappyaboutthepossibilitybecauseIlikeyou,and,selfishly,Iliketheideaofthis
happycoupleontheteam.”

I tilt my head to the side, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. And to make sure he’s not

suggesting some sort of publicity stunt. Carefully, keeping my tone neutral, I ask, “What do you
mean,Stuart?”

“Justthat...well,letmebeblunt.”Heclaspshishandstogether.“Withalltheshitsomeofthebad

seeds put us through last year, this potential love affair was looking to be a bright spot—the
quarterbackplayingSkee-Ballwithkids,andthenwiththewomanhelikesatacharityfunction,”he
says, leaning back in his chair and chuckling, like this is the most amusing thing ever. “While I’d
neveraskyoutodatehimforthepressorpretendtobeinarelationship,Iwas,admittedly,hoping
youactuallywere.”

Myjawdrops.Itfallstothefloorwithaloudclang.Ipickitup,reattachit,andblinkseveraltimes.

“Youweretrulyhopingweweredating?”

ThisisthelastthingIexpected.EventhoughI’dplannedtohaveaheart-to-heartwithhim,Inever

thoughthe’dactivelywantustobetogether.ImerelyhopedIcouldworksomethingout.Somesort
ofprovisothatmadeitacceptabletogooutwithhimsinceI’mnotDrew’sdirectboss,orsomething.
Anunder-the-radar-screentypeofapproval.

UntilIthoughtIwasbusted.
But in a way, Stuart’s reaction makes perfect sense. The team’s image problems stemmed from

guysdoingdrugsandfatheringmorebabiesthantheycouldhandle.Fromwreckingcarsandtrashing

hotelrooms.Notfromholdinghandsatthemovies,orplayingarcadegamesonthebeach.

Stuartdrumshisfingersonmydesk.“Whenitcomestooff-the-fieldsportsstories,there’slittlethe

public loves more than when the quarterback wins the heart of a good girl. But I guess that isn’t
happening,”hesays,sighingheavily.Hestandsandturnstoleave.“I’msorryifIwaspushy.”

AndIsnapoutofmyfog.“Wait.”
Heturns,anexpectantlookinhiseyes.Timeformetowomanup.TimetodowhatIplannedtodo

mereminutesagowhenIwasreadytomarchintohisoffice.Speakthetruth.

“Youwereright,”Isay.
Hecockshishead,waiting.
“Aboutthevibe.”
Heliftshischin,asmilesneakingacrosshismouth.“Iwas?”
“Yes.I’vetriedtodenyitbecauseIthoughtitcouldhurttheteam,butI’vespenttimewithhimat

events,andhavegottentoknowhim,andIdolikehim,”Isay,owningmyfeelings,andleavinghis
off the table for the moment. As a lawyer by trade, I know how to present facts in order to protect
others.Myjobrightnowistotaketheriskforbothofus,andIcanhandleputtingmyheartonthe
line.

EspeciallygivenStuart’sanswer.
Hissmilespreadscheektocheek.“Drewdoeslikeyou.Thatwaspatentlyobvious,”hesays,andI

beam.Ican’thelpit.IlovethatStuartcouldtellDrewfeelsthesame.“Andhehasexcellenttaste.”

“Thankyou,”Isay,thenfurrowmybrow.“It’sreallyokay?”
Helaughs.“Justdon’tcrashacar,snortaline,orgetknockeduptoosoon.Otherwise,we’reall

good.Oh,nosextapeseither.”

Myfaceturnsthecolorofafireengine.“Youcancountonthat.”
WhenStuartleaves,ItextDrew.
Dani:Sooooo...thatideayoufloatedlastnight...
Drew:Theonewhereyoushowupatmyhousenaked?Saythatcomestruetonight,please.
Dani:Gladyou’restillgameforthat.
Drew: Game for you is exactly what I am. But, by idea, did you mean the idea to play whack-a-

moleagain?

Dani:Yes,sortof.Morelikewhatitwouldtaketoplaywhack-a-molewithyou.
Drew:Ilikewherethisisgoing.Especiallybecauseitsoundsdirty.Butalso,sweet.Continue.
Dani:Yousaidyouwantedtomakeagoofit.ThatyouthoughtStuartwaspleased.Turnsoutyour

instinctsaren’tjustgoodonthefield.

Drew:Irockingeneral,don’tyouknowthat?But...bealittlemorespecific.He’spleasedabout

what?Thecafeteriaatthestadium?Thenewestpressreleasehewrote?Or...?

Dani:Hegavemethethumbs-upto...well,togooutwithyou.ItoldhimIkindoflikedyou.
Drew:Holyshit.Youdidthatforus?YoutalkedtoStuart?
Igivehimthequickversionofhowitallwentdown,thensendonemoretext.
Dani:Pleasetellmeyouaren’tpissed.
Drew:I’mfuckingecstatic.Youareonebadass,ballsybabe,andI’mcrazyforyou.Andwhatyou

didmakesmeevencrazierforyou.

Dani:Whew.I’lltakethatbrandofcrazy.
Drew: You deserve about a dozen orgasms. Good thing is, I know just the man who can deliver

them.

Dani:Makeitabaker ’sdozenplease.
Drew:Consideritdone.

ChapterEleven

Dani

There is a dinner at a cafe by the ocean. There is a walk from the beach to my house. There are
deliciousconversationsalongtheway.

Allthatispartoftonight.Butwiththeelectricchemistrybetweenus,thereismostlyalowsexual

hum in the air. A vibration between us that crackles and sparks, and we both know it’s about to
combustthesecondwereachmyfrontdoor.

Becausethereispermission.
In some ways, I feel foolish that we were so cautious. But in other ways, I don’t feel foolish for

havingplayedit—mostly—safe.Wewereabletogettoknoweachother.Wewereabletotalkandto
chat.Sure,weskirtedthelineinhiscar,andwetoyedwithitagainonthephone.Butaswereachmy
porch, I know it’s different now than the last time we were here, and that difference makes me feel
good about this choice. I unlock the green front door to my home and stumble inside with Drew
Erickson.Hishandsareonmywaist,hislipsareonmyshoulders,andthemanhasn’tbeenableto
keephispawsoffmesince...well,sincethisdatestartedtwohoursago.

Now,webothknowwhat’scomingnext.
Us.
Thedoorsnapsshut.
“Wantedthisforsolong,”hesays,hisvoicesmokyinmyearashesmothersmyneckinkisses,his

touchmakingtheworldaroundmeglow.Thisisthedefinitionofswooning.Thisisthemeaningof
weakintheknees.Lookitup.It’swhathe’sdoingtome.Myneckishisplayground,andhecoversit
in caresses, gentle kisses, then hungrier nips. I never would have pegged him as a man so keen on
kissing.Butthen,DrewEricksonhasbeensurprisingmefromdayone,whenhebonkedhisheadona
surfboard.

Mystomachflipsashepresseshislipstothehollowofmythroat,thenbacksmeuptomycouch.I

sinkdownonit,andhefollowsme,hisbigbodypressedagainstmine.

Holysmokes.
Hefeelsspectacularcoveringmelikethiseventhoughwe’restillclothed.Icanonlyimaginewhat

itwillbeliketobeskintoskinwiththisman.Mymindisahazeoflustanddesireashislipstravel
downmychest,andhetugsonmysilkytanktop.Isitup,pullingitoff,thenheworksopenmybra.

He groans when my breasts are free. “You’ve been hiding these beauties from me,” he says

appreciativelyashecupsthem,playingwithmyflesh,pinchingmynipples.

My hips buck up when he does that, and a burst of pleasure races straight to my core. “No more

hideandseeknow,”Isay.

Hiseyesarewildwithnaughtinessashekissesandsucks.Hebitesdown,drivingmewild,turning

meonevenmore,andI’malreadywellpastbroiling.ThenIreconsidermyassessmentwhenhetakes
offmyskirtandyanksoffmypanties.I’monfireashedragsonefingerdownmywetcenter.

“OhGod,”Imoan.
“Soslickandwetonmyhand.Iwanttotasteallthissweetnessonmytongue.”Hepullsmyhipsto

theedgeofmycouch,kneelsdown,andspreadsmylegswide.Hisgazedriftstomine,ashegrowls,

“I’vegottenofftothisimagesomanytimes.Now,Iwantyoutocomeonmyface.”

Hedoesn’tneedtotellmethattwice.Becausethesecondheburieshisfacebetweenmylegs,Idon’t

wanttodoanythingelsebutchaseanorgasm.

Helicksadeliciouslineupmycenter,andIwrigglecloser.Sparksigniteinmyveins,andmyskin

sizzleswitheverylick,everytouch,everykissofmyclit.Hemoansandmurmursashegoesdown
onme,andhissoundssendmesoaring.Mybodyhumswithdesire,andIswearpleasurehascamped
out in every single molecule in my body. It’s all I feel. It’s all I am, as Drew laps me up, and the
intensity builds with every consuming touch. Pressing his hands on my thighs, he spreads my legs
wider,thendrapesthemoverhisshoulders.

Myhandsshootintohishair,grippingthestrandsharder,tugginghimevencloserstill.Mybelly

tightens,andIneartheedge.Mynoisesgrowlouder,fillingtheairasImoanandgroanhisname.

Then,I’mpantingandsayingohGod,ohGod,ohGod, over and over as I rock my hips into his

face,curlmyhandstightaroundhishead,andsoarintotheskyfromthepleasure.Icomeundoneon
hislipsinawildfrenzy.

He pulls away and tugs off his shirt, as I blink open my eyes. What a lucky lady I am. The man

undressinginfrontofmehasabodytodiefor.Nosurprisethere,butthenI’dnevertakethiskindof
masculinebeautyforgranted.Icouldenjoytheviewalldaylong.

“God,you’resofuckingbeautiful,”Isay.
“Whythankyou.You’reprettyfuckingbodaciousyourself.”
Icrackup.“Bodacious?Ihaven’theardthatwordinages.”
“Ihaven’tuseditinages.Orever.Butitfitsyou.”
Isitupandreachforhisjeans,unbuttoning,thenunzipping,andsoonI’vestrippedthisgorgeous

man down to nothing. I’ve seen him close enough to nude before—shirtless on the beach, and
bottomlessinhiscar.Butrightnow,he’swearingnothingandthelooksuitshim.Igasp.Ican’thelp
myself.He’ssostunning.Hisbodyisunreal,andIgettoplaywithit,useit,haveit,tasteit.

Igrasphiships,raisemyface,andsay,“Iwantyoutofuckmenow.”
Hiseyesdarken.“That’sexactlywhatI’mgoingtodo.”
Hereachesforacondomfromhiswalletandrollsiton,asIliedownonthecouch.Iopenmylegs

forhim,butheshakeshishead.

“MaybeImisunderstood,butIthoughtthiswaswhereyouwantedtobe?”
Helaughsasheparkshimselfonthecouch,andpatshislegs.“Getonme.Iwantyoutorideme.

AndIwanttoplaywithyourtitsatthesametime.”

Hisgameplansoundsgoodtome.
I straddle him and he grasps my hips, positioning me over his cock. I rub the head against my

wetness,andhedrawsasharpbreath,hismouthfallingopen.“Fuck,Iwanttobeinsideyousobad.”

Ieasedownonhiserection,andashefillsmeinchbydeliciousinch,Imoan.Itfeelssogood.He’s

big,butI’mridiculouslywet,sotakinghiminisn’taproblem.Soon,he’sindeep,andthefeelingis
intense.GoosebumpsriseallovermyskinasIstarttomoveonhim.Hisstronghandsdigintomy
hipsandheguidesme.Shudderingfromthewildsensations,Ileanincloser,mybreastsbrushinghis
chest.

Hegroansashethrustsinsideme,strokingup.
His big hands run up my waist to my stomach and he covers my belly with one palm. There’s

somethingstrangelypossessiveinthegesture,inthewayhe’stouchingme,andIlikeit.Iridehim,
savoring the fullness, thrilling at the way pleasure burrows deep inside my body, spreading and
slinkingtoeverycorner.Hishandsglideupandhecupsmybreasts,squeezing.

Icryout.“OhGod,thatfeelssogood.”
“Sofuckinggood,”hesaysasheplayswiththem.

I’mnotoneofthosewomenwhohasaspecialspot—I’mnotabreastgirl,oraneargirl,whereI

can get off with a lick or kiss in a certain zone. But here with Drew, my entire body feels like an
erogenouszoneashefucksmeandfillsme.

“You look so beautiful riding my cock, Dani,” he says in a filthy whisper. His words seem both

dirtyandtender.

Imoan,lettingmyheadfallbackasIfindmyperfectpace,rockingupanddownonhim.
“Lovethewayyoursweetpussygripsme,”hegrowls,andIgaspfromthelovelysmutthatfalls

fromhismouth.

Then,withonehandkneadingabreast,hedropstheotherbetweenmylegs.Hefindsmyclit,andhe

rubs.Thesensationsmakememoan.Makemegroan.Makemecryoutinwild,thrillingpleasure.

AndbeforeIknowit,mywordsareaswildashis.Asbaseandasdirty.
Fuckme.
I’mbeggingyou.
Harder.Deeper.
Loveyourcocksofarinme.
Fuckmeharder.Please,fuckmeharder.
His groans turn carnal. Animalistic. We become a hot, wild thing, a smashing of sweaty, greedy

bodies, and I’m nothing but desire and the wish to come. As my muscles tense, pleasure erupts
everywhereinme.There’snopartofmethat’suntouchedbythisclimaxthatsimplyconsumesme.
“OhGod,it’ssogood,sogood,sogood.”

And on my twentieth so good, he pulls out, flips me over, and positions me on all fours on my

couch.Hegetsbehindmeandslidesbackinside.

Talkaboutdeep.
ThismanfillsmeandstretchesmelikeI’veneverbeenstretchedbefore.He’ssofarinside,Iswear

I’m feeling him in new places. But it all seems like heaven as he clasps his hands on my ass and
puncheshiships,poundingme.

That’swhatthisis.It’sthelashingofrainagainstawindow.Likeawildstorm.Likethunder.Like

theoceanwavescrashingintotheshore.AndIwantthatwave.Iwanttofallunderit,feelallofit.

“Fuck,Dani.Sofuckinggood.I’mgonnacomesohard.”
Knowing he’s reached the edge is all I need to find it again. Another orgasm rattles through my

bodyashecomesinsideme,andIjoinhiminthatsweetlandofecstaticbliss,ourmoansandgroans
layeringontopofeachotherinthesoundtracktoourfirsttime.

Soon,wecollapseinasweatyheaponmycouch,andhesmothersmyneckinkissesagain.Then

mycheek,thenmyear.“Heyyou.”

“Heyyou.”
“We’regoingtodothatagainsoon,right?”
“Webetter.”
“Ineedtowarnyou.Ihaveabigappetite,soI’mgonnaneedalotofsex.BecauseIlovefucking

you,” he says, his voice husky. Then, he takes a beat, looks into my eyes, and says, “And I’m also
totallyfallingforyou.”

And there’s little better than this. Sex with the person you’re falling for. The dopey smile on my

facematcheshis.“I’mfallingforyoutoo.”

ChapterTwelve

Drew

IopenthedoortoleavemyapartmentonSaturdaymorning,anddoadoubletake.

Jasonstandsoutside,fistpoisedtoknock.
“Dude,what’sup?Ineedtoheadtothestadiumforthewalk-through,”Isay,sincetodayisallabout

reviewingthestrategyandplaybookfortomorrow.Wehaveachancetomakeitfiveinarowwhen
SanFranciscocomestotown.

“Just this little thing known as a meeting.” He taps his watch. “I was at the coffee shop down the

blockwaitingforyou,man.TotalkaboutQwenchandsomeotherstuffthatI’mlookinginto.Butyou
didn’tshow.What’sup?”

Idragahandthroughmyhair.“Right.Shit.Sorry.Iforgot.”
Hejerkshishead,andgivesmeaquizzicallook.“That’snotlikeyou.Butthat’swhyItextedtosee

whatwasup.Youdidn’tgetmytexts?”

“Um,”Isay,rubbingahandacrossthebackofmyneck.TruthwasIwasmessagingDaniforthe

lasttwentyminutes.“Musthavemissedit.”

“Just like you missed it a few nights ago when I told you I was working on some new deals for

you?”Hearchesaneyebrow.Jason’sachilldude,andhe’srarelyruffled.Butthere’safinelayerof
irritationcomingthroughloudandclearinhistone.

“Sorry,man.Beenacrazyweek.”
Afterholdingbackforwhatfeltlikeforever,DaniandIhavemadeupforlosttime.I’veseenher

everynightafterpractice,andhell,everynightitgetsbetterandhotterandlonger.

“Yougettingenoughsleep?”heasks,hisprotectivesideoutinfullforce.
“Yeah,totally,”Isay,becauseit’strue.Iknowmyself.Knowmybody.
“Good.You’vealwaysneededasolideighthours.”
Idothemath.LastnightIclockedexactlyeight.Igivehimathumbs-up.“I’mgettingit,man.I’m

gettingit.”

“Good. And I’m guessing you missed my message this morning because you were busy texting

withthewomanassoonasyouwokeup?”

Ilookdown,thenbackup.WhydoIfeelguiltyformissinghismessages?MaybebecauseI’vekind

ofbeenmissingshitallweek.Butthat’swhathappensintheearlydaysofarelationship,right?You
can’tgetenoughofeachother,andallI’vewantedtodoforthelastweekhasbeentoplayball,and
thentoplaywithher.

Sothat’sallI’vedone.
“Yeah,”Isay,admittingthetruth.
Heclapsmeontheshoulder.SqueezingharderthanIexpect.“Gladyou’reintoher,man.Just...

youknow.”

Icockmyheadtotheside.“Youknow,what?”
Hetapshistemples.“Justkeepyourfocus.”
Iclenchmyteeth,thenanswerhim.“Iamallfocus.I’mprettymuchmadeoffocus.Andrightnow,

let’sfocusonQwench.Becausehere’sthething.Idon’tthinkthiscompanyisagoodfit.”

“Yeah?”
We’re still standing in the doorway, but the clock’s ticking, and Dani’s words ring in my ears.

Anotherthingthat’sslippedmymindisbringingitupwithhim.Notimelikethepresent.“Danitold
methatQwenchranintosometroublewithtaxfraud.”

Jasonfrownsinconfusion.“Youweretalkingtoheraboutyourbusinessaffairs?”
A kernel of guilt takes root inside me, like maybe I shouldn't have. But it didn’t seem wrong. It

seemed really fucking helpful. “Dani said she’s happy to share the details with you. She was just
tryingtobehelpful,”Iadd,butthewordssoundawkwardcomingoutofmymouth,andIfeellikean
ass.LikeI’mdefendingmygirlfriendtomybuddy,andIshouldnothavetodothat.NorshouldIfeel
likeIdidsomethingwrongbytalkingtoher.

Hearchesaneyebrow.“I’msureshewas.I’dlovetoknowmore.I’mjustsurprisedyouwenttoher

foradvice.”

“Itwasn’tadvice.Iwastalkingtoheraboutyou,man,”Isay,pokinghischestbecausehe’spissing

meoff.“Tellingheryou’reagoodfriend,howwedideverythingtogetheraskids,andhowwework
together now. I mentioned we were working on a potential deal. And she fucking offered the
information,okay?”

Heholdsuphishandsinsurrender.
A heaviness sets into my chest. Fuck. Now I’m that dude who questions his buddy because of a

chick. “She’s a lawyer, you know. She knows stuff about business and deals.” I say, like I have to
defendmythoughtprocess.Butscrewthat.Jason’shadmybackmywholelife.

“Betyoudon’tmissmeetingswithherthough.”
Irollmyeyes.“Lowblow,man.”
Thecornerofhislipsquirkup,likehe’ssaying,yeah,butyoudeserveit,asshole.
MaybeIdo.
“But either way, I’ll look into it. That’s what I do.” Then his expression softens. “Sorry,” he

mumbles.

It’snotentirelyheartfelt,butI’mnotentirelyfeelingthatwayeither.
Iwaveahandintheair,erasingtheconversation.“Needtogo.Can’tbelate.Igotastreakonthe

line.”

ThenItakeoffforwork.
Atthestadiumaswewalkthroughourgameplan,Iputbothmyfriendandthewomanoutofmy

mind.Ihavetunnelvision,andthat’sallIneedrightnow.Idon’ttalktoeitheroneofthemtherestof
thedayoronSunday.Bythetimetheteamhitsthefieldforkickoff,I’minthezone.

***

Andit’snotenough.

Weloseandwelosehard.
Afterfallingbehindattheendofthefirsthalf,Ihavetothrowevenmore.I’mchasedaroundthe

backfield,tossingrushedpasses,whichturnintodroppedpasses,andthenIlaunchamotherfucking
interceptionthatputsSanFranciscoaheadevenmore.

They pad their lead and never look back, finishing with what can only be described as a

pummeling.

Elkinsisassullenastheycomewhenwewalkoffthefield.“Ishouldn’thaveleftmyluckysocks

wheremydogcouldgetthem.”

Isnapmygazetohimasweheadintothestadium.“Yourdogateyoursocks?”

Elkinsnods,hisfacedejected.“MyGermanshepherdchoweddownononeofmyluckysockslast

night.Iworethemforthefirstfourgames,buthefoundthemandchewedtheheeloffone.”

I pat him on the back. “Pretty sure it was my shitty throws, not your dog’s taste for stinky

footwear.”

Elkinsshakeshisheadadamantly.“No,man.Youneverfuckwithastreak.AndIdid.Hetapshis

chest.“Thisoneisonme.”

“Then does that mean if you catch twenty passes in a row like a badass mofo, that it’s all due to

yoursocks,notyourskills?”

“It’s different when you win. Winning is skills. But messing with a winning streak? That’s just

somethingyoudon’tdo.”

The conversation nags at me as I shower, as I head to the parking lot, and as I drive home that

evening,dreadingtomorrowmorning’sfirstpost-lossworkout,becauseCoachwilllikelytearusa
newone.ThewholetimeIreflectonwhatElkinssaid.

Maybehe’sright.
Maybeyoudon’tfuckwithastreak.
But not for the reasons he said. Not because of luck, or superstition, or football gods shining in

yourfavorwhenyouwearsmellysocks.

You don’t fuck with a streak because it ruins your focus. It messes with your head. And football

isn’tjustaphysicalgame,it’samentalone.Whenyourprioritieschange,whenyoustretchyourself
tofitinmorethanyouthinkyoucan,that’stherealscrewingwithastreak.

That’swhatI’vebeendoing.
Onceinsidemyhome,IcrackopenabeerandflickontheTV.Forceofhabittakesmestraightto

SportsCenter. Why I do this, I don’t know. But there’s something about putting your finger in the
flame.Youknowithurts,butyoudoitanyway.

Letitburn.
Pointing the remote at the TV, I crank up the volume. Soon enough, the host launches into his

footballrecap,andlandsonmyteam.

“DrewEricksonhasplayedimpeccablyallseason,buttodaytheLosAngelesKnightsearnedtheir

firstLoftheseason.Let’sdigintowhatbroketheirfour-and-zerorecord.”

Partofmewantstoshout,“Itwasjustfourgames.”
But another part of me knows deeply that every goddamn game matters. Muting the TV, I park

myselfonthecouch,headinmyhand.Whatwentwronginthegame?WheredidIfuckup?Howcan
Ilearn?

WhenIraisemyfaceandtakealongswallowofthebeer,theanswerrearsitsheadoncemore.
“Fuck,”ImutterwhenIsetdownthebeer.
BecauseIknow.
IfeltitnaggingatmewhenElkinstalked.
Wehadasmooth,well-oiledmachine—onethatI’dturnedaroundafterahellishlastseason.
ThenIputmyfocuselsewhere.Itookofftheblindersandletsomeonein.Awoman.AndI’mcrazy

forher,butyetthesecondthisthingbetweenusmovedupalevel,mygamefellapart.

AndIdon’thavetheluxuryoftime.Offiguringoutabalancingact.I’vegotoneseasonwithLos

Angeles,andwe’remorethanaquarterofthewaythroughit.

If I want to finish this year poised for the future, I need to realize sooner rather than later that

there’snoroominmylifeforbothfootballandfallingforsomeone.

Grabbingthephone,IdialDani’snumber.
“Heyyou,”shesays,hervoicesoft.Idon’tdeservehersweetness.
“Hey.How’sitgoing?”

“I’mfine.Butenoughaboutme.Thatwasatoughgametoday.Howareyoudoing?”
Her tone is comforting. She’s not trying to reassure me, or tell me I played great. She knows I

didn’t.I’mgladshe’snotlyingjusttomakemefeelbetter.Butevenso,IknowwhatIhavetodo.Rip
offtheBand-Aid.

“Dani,”Isay,clearingmythroat.Mytonemakesmymeaningclear,becausehervoicechangestoo.

It’snolongergentleandgirlfriend-sweet.

She’sallproattorneyasshesays,“Yes,Drew?”
Iheaveabig,fatsigh.“Ithinkweneedtocoolitforabit.”
“Oh,”shesayscrisply.
“It’snotyou.It’sthatI’mlosingmyedge.Ineedtofocusmoreonthegame,”Isay,mytonetinged

with regret. “We had a good thing going. We had a great streak. And I put it on the line by letting
myselfgetmoreintoyou.Ican’ttakeachance.Ineedtoimpressthecoachandtheteamandthecity
sotheykeepme.Mycontractisupattheendofthisseason.”

She’squietforamoment.IhavetowonderifIshouldhavedonethisinperson.Butthen,I’mglad

thatIcan’tseeher.IfIdid,I’dwanttotouchher.Tokissher.Totakeherinmyarmsagain.It’sbetter
this way. I keep caving when I’m with her, and that’s the problem. “I understand,” she says, and her
voiceiscold.

I hate the frozen sound. I hate that she’s shifted so quickly. But I don’t get to hate her reaction,

becauseI’mtheonewhogaveherthisnewsshedidn’texpect.Itmustbelikeabrainfreezetoher.It
cameoutofnowhere,andnowshehastodealwithit.ButIhavetodealwithmymistakestoo.

“Goodluck,Drew,”shesays,“Iknowyou’regoingtohaveagreatseason.”
Shehangsup.

ChapterThirteen

Dani

I shift my gaze away from a parasail floating above the ocean, returning my attention to my sister.
We’reatabeachsidebartocelebratesinceshejustacedoneofherkeynursingschoolexams.

Ican’tevenbeartolookattheparasail.
Whichisanutterlyridiculousemotionalresponse.DrewandIneverwentparasailing.Wesimply

talked about it. I’m not even at the café where we had our first drink. We’re a few bars down. Ally
wantedtosurfthisafternoon,sinceIlefttheofficeacouplehoursearly,butIwasn’tinthemoodto
getontheboard,soI’mnursingmyfrustrationswithmargaritas.

I’dliketosaythemargaritaisthebestmedicine,andthatit’sinducingDrewamnesia.Butnosuch

luck. Aimlessly, I swirl the straw around the dregs of my drink, wishing it were a magic potion to
makemeforgethim.Sincethere’snothing—notadamnthing—Icandoaboutthesituation.It’slike
hehandcuffedmewithhisbreakup.LikehesilencedmeincourtwithagagorderandI’mleftslack-
jawed,wide-eyed,shocked.

Theonlythingthat’stakenmymindawayfromhowhecutourloveaffairoffatthekneesiswork.

Blessedwork.It’sbeenmysteadyduringmytwenties,andit’lldothesameinmythirties,I’msure.
It’stheonethingthatIcancontrol,soI’vebeendoingatonofitthisweek,buryingmyselfinit.Even
today,Iloggedtenhours,sinceIwasatmydeskatthecrackofdawn.Alltheworkremindsmeof
whatmattersmostinmylife.Ihavemysister,Ihavemyfamily,Ihavemyjob,andIhavesurfingfor
fun. I don’t need him to complete me. I’m better off focusing on the things that are steady and
constant.ThethingsthatIcanrelyon.Notamanwhochangedhismindonadime.

Evenso,parasailingwithDrewwouldhavebeensofun.Wetalkedaboutittheothernightafterwe

screwedonmykitchencounter.Ahotflurryoftinglesracesdownmychestfromthememory.The
manwasrelentless,andhefuckedmewithpassion,andtenderness,andthelasttime,withsweetness.
Thelasttimefeltlike...makinglove,evenonmykitchencounter.Thewayhelookedatme,howhe
heldmeashedrovedeepinsideme,andthenhowhenevertookhiseyesoffme.After,hedidn’tjust
tellmehowmuchhelikedfuckingme.Hetoldmeallthethingshewantedtodowithmeoutsidethe
bedroomarena.“Iwanttotakeyoutothemovies,andIwanttotakeyouuponthatsurfinglessonwe
neverhad,andIwanttogoparasailingwithyou,”hehadsaidthatnight,thenhekissedmyneck.“And
playyouinwhack-a-moleandbeatyou.”

I’dlaughedandswattedhischest.“Youcompetitivebastard.”
Henoddedandkissedmemore.“Iam,butIwanttodoallthosethingswithyoubecauseI’mcrazy

aboutyou.”

Isighheavily.Somuchforbeingcrazyforme.Lotofgoodthatdid.Iraisemychin,takeahearty

sipofthelastofmymargaritaremains,andthensetdowntheglass.

“SoIshoulddyemyhairgreen,andgetamermaidtattoo?”
Iblinkandwrenchback.“What?”
Allylaughsandpoints.“You’resonotpayingattention.”
Isigh.“Iwas.IswearIwas.”
Sheshakesherhead,amused.“Youweren’t.ButIunderstand.”

“Sorry.It’sjustacrazyweekandI’vebeenworkingallhours.”
“Sure.”Butit’sclearfromthewayshesaysthewordthatshedoesn’tbelieveme.“That’sexactly

whyyou’renotfocusing.”

Igiveherapointedlook.“Ihavebeenworkinghard.”
She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “I know, sweetie. But that’s not what I mean. Have you

thoughtabouttalkingtohim?”

Irollmyeyes.“There’snothingtotalkabout.There’snothingtodiscuss.Thisisablack-and-white

situation.”

“Andyetyou’reanattorney.You’vealwaystoldmethateverysituationhasshadesofgray.How

canthisbetheonlyblack-and-whitesituation?”

“Becauseitis,”Isayfirmly.“Heendeditbecausehewaslosinghisfocus.Ican’tmakehimregain

hisfocus.Wedidn’thaveamisunderstanding.Wedidn’thaveafight.There’snothingformetotalk
aboutwithhim.”

Allyarchesaneyebrow.“Ibegtodiffer.”
Idon’tknowwhatshecouldpossiblybegtodifferabout,butI’mcuriousashell.Isweepmyhand

out,givingherthefloor.“Sodiffer,then.Tellme.”

“YousawthegameonSundayright?”
“Ofcourse.”
“AnddidSanFrancisconotplayitsassoffinthatgame?”
Inod.Wearebothfootballdaughters.Allyknowsthegameinsideandout.“Theyweregreat.”
“Noonewasgoingtobeatthem.He’sanidiotifhethinkshelostbecauseofyou.”
Can’t argue there. But that’s the problem. I can’t argue with him on this because he gave me no

choice.SoIsimplyagreewithmysister.“He’sdefinitelyanidiot.Butit’snotmyplacetoconvince
himofthat.”

“I know. But it’s not like you to just accept his explanation when he’s so patently wrong. I’m not

sayinggetbacktogetherwithhim.I’mnotevensayingyoucanchangehismind.ButIamsayingyou
shouldmakeyourcasefornottakingtheblame.Whetheryougetbackwithhimornotisn’tthepoint.
Heshouldn’tgoaboutthinkingthatlosshadanythingtodowithyou.IthadtodoSanFrancisco.”

My sister is right. Drew didn’t simply lose the game. San Francisco won it. The other team was

hell-bentonvictory,andIdon’thavetoletthatrestonmyshoulders.

“Theywerelikeafreighttrain,”Isay,addingontoAlly’spoint.
Shenods.“Damnstraight.”
“Theyweren’tstoppingforanyone.”
Ally makes a chugging sound, like a train careening down the tracks. “Not just a freight train. A

silverbullet,”shesays,pilingonthismetaphor.

I laugh, but inside I feel stronger, more confident. I might take on the weight of all these other

things—work, and my sister, and my own strict devotion to how I want to handle life’s
responsibilities—butawinorlossoftheteamIworkfor?That’snotminetobear.

“YoureallythinkIshouldsayallthattohim?”
Ally’svoiceisemphaticassheanswers.“Yes,yes,yes.Andifit’sanyconsolation,Jasonsaidhe’s

miserableashellthisweek.”

Ismirk.Admittedly,Ifindsomesmallconsolationinthatdetail,butwhetherhe’smiserableornot

isn’tthepoint.

EventhoughIdisagreewithhisdecision,Irespectthefactthathehastolive,work,andloveonhis

ownterms.

AndIhavetodothesame.
Forme,thatmeansclosure.Thatmeanssayingwhatneedstobesaid.Idon’tneedtodoitface-to-

face. I don’t want to open up a conversation where I’ll get hurt again. But I need him to hear my
words.

Istartwithaletter.Takingmytimethatnight,Iwritedownmythoughts.Themostimportantones.

ThenIsleeponit.Thenextmorning,Iheadovertohisplace,knowingit’ssaferandmoreprivateto
leavethisletterherethanatthestadium.

Islideitunderhisdoor.I’mgladhedoesn’thaveaneighborwholikestowatertheporchplants.
WhenIwalkawayfromhisdoor,IdosofeelinglikeatleastIwasabletosaymypiece.

Drew

IstartlewhenIseeawhiteenvelopeonmyfloorafterIunlockthedoor.Abeadofsweatdripsdown
myforeheadfromamorningrunafteraweight-roomworkout,andIwipeitawayasIbendtograb
thepage.

“Love notes?” Jason asks as he follows me inside and grabs some water from the pitcher in the

fridge.

“Not sure,” I mutter as gruffly as I can, mostly to hide the goddamn flutter that hits my heart

unexpectedlyfromseeingmynameinherhandwriting.True,I’veneverseenitbefore,butIknowit’s
fromher.

Slidingopentheenvelope,ItakeoutthesheetofpaperandunfolditasIparkmyselfonastoolat

thekitchencounter.Jasongrabsthestoolacrossfrommeandhandsmeaglassofwater.Itakea
thirstygulp,thenflipopenthepageandread.

HeyDrew,
Ihopeyou’rehavingagreatweek,andthatpracticeistreatingyouwell.I’mwritingtoyoutoshare

somethingonmymind.PleaseknowI’mnotaskingyoutochangeyourmind.Irespectyourdecision.
Youhavetoplaythegamehowyouhavetoplaythegame.ButIwouldn’tbeacard-carryingfootball
fanorcoach’sdaughterifIletyougoaboutthinkingyoulostforthewrongreason.Thetruthisthis—
SanFranciscowassharp.Itsdefensewasunbeatablethatday.Youwereforcedtothrowafewseconds
sooner than you would have liked. Your receivers weren’t firing on all cylinders, and they dropped
passes.Youroffensivelinedidn’tprotectyouaswellastheyshould.Thatisall.Youaren’tlosingyour
focus. The game is just that—it’s a game. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you’re
amazing, and sometimes the other team has all the points in its favor. I have no doubt you’ll keep
showingLosAngeleshowluckytheyaretohaveyou.Iknowthat’showIfeltforthosefewbriefdays
whenyouweremine.

Allmybest,
Dani

Ireaditagain,lettingherwordssoakin,tillIcanfeelthemdeepinmygut.She’snotthefirstone

tosaythisaboutthegame.Someofmyteammatesdidtoo.Coachhintedatit.Butshe’sthefirsttosay
itsoclearly,andsowell.Andshe’sthefirstonetosayitinawaythatgetswhyIfeltshittyaboutmy
performance.Joiningthisteamasthestartingquarterbackhasbeenahugeopportunityforme.It’sthe
chanceI’velongedfortoprovemyself.Iwanttomakethisfranchisehappy.Iwanttostayhere.Iwant
tohaveacareerhere.

Butevenso,maybeI’vegottensomethingwrong.MyheartfeelsheavywhenIlookup.“Shit.”
Jasonraisesaneyebrow.“Everythingokay?”
“Yeah,man,”Isay,suckingthecrappyfeelingbackin.

“Yousure?”heasks,skeptically.
“Absolutely.Justanotefrom...”
“Bytheway,”hesays,tippinghischintothepaper.“Daniwasright.”
Itiltmyheadtotheside.“Aboutwhat?”
“Qwench.Thatlittlebitofinformationturnedouttobespoton,”hesays,lookingmeintheeye.“I

made some calls. Asked around. Turned out she was spot on. The company did have some trouble
with tax fraud, but did its best to hide it. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure I would have found out
aboutit,totellyouthetruth.”

“Really?”
Henodsseveraltimes.“Shehelpedus,man.Itwasn’twidelyknown,butshewaslookingoutfor

you.Hadyourbestinterestsatheart.I’mreallyfuckinggratefulforthat.”

Asmilepullsatthecornerofmymouth.Can’thelpit.I’mproudofherforwantingtohelp,and

gratefultohavethebothofthemlookingoutforme.

Except...Idon’thaveher.
Isighheavily,thendragahandthroughmyhair.“I’mgladshewashelpful.Andlisten,I’msorryif

Isoundedlikeanassquestioningyouinthefirstplace.”

He scoffs. “Please. Don’t apologize. It surprised me at first, and honestly, maybe it ruffled my

feathersabittoo.”

Igivehimanarrowstare.“Feathers?You’vegotfeathers?”
Hepretendstoswipeatthemonhisarm.“Allthefuckover.”
“Well,don’tyouworry.Ineedyouandyourfuckingfeathers,man.”
“Thanks.Itdidmakemeworrythatmaybeyoudidn’tneedme.ButthenIgotoverthat,becauseI’m

me, and I’m awesome, and you’ll always need me,” he says with a huge smile and a wiggle of his
eyebrows.Thenheadoptsamoreseriouslook.“ButIappreciateyousayingallthat.”

WeknockfistsandIclaphimontheshoulder.“Always,bro.Ialwaysneedyou.”
“Anyway,I’mgladshehelpedusseethatitwasn’trightforyou.Whenyoutoldmethat,Istarted

lining up other options. I set up some meetings with a restaurant chain and a shoe company, so we
haveotherpossibilitiescomingyourway.”

“That'sfantastic.”
Theroomissilentforamoment,andIcan’tstopthinkingaboutDani,andhernote,andhowshe

madetheefforttotellmethisevenafterIshutherout.Iturnedmyfrustrationwithmyselfintoanall-
or-nothingdecision.

Jasonbreaksthesilence.“She’srightaboutthattoo,”hesays,pointingtothepaper,eventhoughhe

hasn’treadit.

Ifurrowmybrow.“Howdoyouknowwhatshesaid?”
Heshrugs.“Idon’t.ButIcanguess.AndIguessshesaidexactlywhatyouneededtohear,andwhat

othershavebeentryingtotellyouallweek.Thatyoudidn’tfuckupagamebecauseyoufellinlove.
Itwasjustagame,man.Onethatyoudidn’thappentowin.Don’tthrowthewomanoutwiththeL.”

Iblinkandshakemyheadlikeadogshakingoffwater.“Whatdidyoujustsay?”
Herepeatsthepartaboutthegame,butIrollmyhand,thesigntobackitup.“Theotherpart?”
“Oh,”hesays,withalaugh.“Thepartaboutyoubeinginlove?Yeah,AllyandIweretalkingthis

week,andwesortoffiguredoutthat’swhyyou’reamiserablesackofshit.Youprobablythinkit’s
football-related,butIbetyou’remissingthewomanyouwerefallingfor.”

Idropmyforeheadtothecounter.“Iwastotallyfuckingfallingforher.”
Jasonpatsmyshoulder.“Goodthingit’sabyeweekthen.Betyoucanfindherifyoutryrealhard.

Ormaybenotthathard.Icanlobinacallandfindoutwheresheis.”

When I look up and stare out the window at the sun blazing beautifully in the sky and the ocean

waveslappingtheshore,Iknowexactlywhereshe’dbeonthiskindofdayoff.

ChapterFourteen

Drew

Icanseethewavecomingin,crestingacrossthesea.

Shedoestoo.Herfocusissolelyonthewater.Shepaddlescloser,getsupontheboard,andrides

theswellforawholegloriousminute,lookingsexyashellontheboard,owningthewaves.Sherides
until it flattens out. She drops down, holding the board and peering behind her, probably to see if
anotherwave is coming.The water ’s calmbehind her, and whenshe glances inthe direction of the
sand, it takes a few seconds of hunting, but then she spots me. I’m standing in my board shorts,
sunglasseson,myorangesurfboardbymyside.

Iwavetoherandwalkacrossthehotsandtothewetcrystalswheretheseameetstheshore.She

paddlesinmydirection,andsoon,shestandsandstepsoutofthewater,boardbyherside,lookingas
stunningasthedayImether.

Wait.Scratchthat.Morestunning.Moregorgeous.BecauseIknowhernow,andI’mcrazyabout

her,body,heart,andmind.Sherunsahandoverherwethair,butsaysnothing.

“Headsup,”Isaywithasmile.
Shefrowns.“Headsup?”Shelooksbackatthewater,thenagainatme.“Sharkcoming?Waveabout

tocrashoverme?”

“No.Actually,itwasaheadsupforanidiotalert.Rememberthose?”
She raises her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. “I do. Is there an idiot who was

goingtodropintomywave?”

Ishakemyhead.“No,butthere’sanotherkindrightinfrontofyou.”Ipointatmyself,andherlips

curveintoasmile.

“Isthatso?”
Inod,bigandlong,owningit.“Yeah.Theguyinfrontofyouisatotalidiot.Like,acompletejerk.

He completely fucked up this situation with a woman, and he’s hoping she’ll give him another
chance.”

“Ishenow?”sheasks,andhertoneisnolongerthecoldoneIfelttheothernight.Ideservedthat

chill. Deserved it big time for thinking my feelings for her were the cause of my troubles on one
givenSunday.

“Yep,” I say dryly. “And in case you didn’t know it, that idiot is me. So I’ll stop talking about

myselfinthethirdperson.”

Isetmysurfboarddownonthesand,andshedoesthesamewithhers.Ireachforherhand,hoping

she’ll take mine. She does, and here with her hand in mine, I’m reminded of how simple and easy
thingswerewithus,evenwhentheywerecomplicated.“Iloveholdingyourhand.Maybethatsounds
corny.Maybeitis,”Isay,butasIglanceatourjoinedfingers,threadedtogether,itjustfeelsright.
“Butbeingwithyouislikeholdinghands.Wefit.”

“Drew,”shesays,hervoicesoftandfeathery.
“AndIthought,stupidly,thatIcouldn’thaveboth.ThatdoingwellatworkmeantIcouldn’tbewith

you.ThatIonlyhadenoughtogivetooneortheother.Butasthisincrediblyamazing,brilliant,and
beautifulwomanpointedout,it’spossibletohaveboth,becausethereareamillionotherfactorsthat

gointothegame.”

“Thereare,Drew.Therereallyare.I’mgladyouknowthat.”
Iclearmythroat.“And,look,aslongasI’mgettingallmybeautysleep,andnotmissingpractice,

andkeepingmyheadonstraight,it’snotfairformetothinkbeingwithyouissomesort of curse.
Becauseitfeelstheopposite.Itfeelsrightandgoodandtrue.”Istepcloser,squeezeherhandharder.
“Willyouforgiveme?”

“Ofcourse,”shesaysassoonasthewordscomeoutofmymouth,andIlovethatthere’snoneed

toreflect,noneedtothinkonit.She’sready,andI’maluckysonofabitchtohavefiguredmyshit
out sooner rather than later. She lifts her hand and cups my cheek, and it feels so damn good to be
touchedbyher.“Justdon’tstartfreakingoutifyoulose,okay?Becauseit’llhappen.You’llhavebad
daysatwork,andsowillI.Butwe’llhavegooddaystoo.Wejustcan’tletthebaddaysdictatehowwe
feelabouteachother.”

Inod.“Iknow.Ibelievethat.Ipromisethat.I’vejusthadaone-trackmindforthegame,andIguess

Ididn’tthinktherewasroomforloveandfootball,butIwaswrong.”

HereyeswidenwhenIsaythosetwowords—loveandfootball.
“Both?”sheaskscarefully,hereyesneverleavingmine.
Awildgrinspreadsacrossmyface.“Iwaswrong,becausethereisroomforboth.”Itapmyheart.

“Oh, I guess this is a good time to tell you I missed you so fucking much this week because I’m
fallinginlovewithyou.”

Hersmilespreads,matchingminenow.Myheartbeatsfasterwatchingherreaction.Howhereyes

lightup.Howtheyseemtoglow.ThenIstopwatchingbecauseherlipsareonmineandshekisses
me.IclosemyeyesandsavorthekissfromthewomanI’mfallinginlovewith.Shekissesmedeeply,
passionately,andsooneveryoneisgoingtobeabletotellhowmuchIwanther.

Ibreakthekissandwigglemyeyebrows.“Oh,andbytheway,Iwantedtofinallygiveyouthatnote

Ileftonyourporch.”

“Ithoughtitwasthrownaway?”
“Isuspectitwas,soIstartedover,”Isay,andreachintothebackpocketofmyshortsandhandher

theshortletterIwrote.

AnychanceIcouldtakeyouuponthatsurfinglesson?Andthenwecouldtryagainateverything,

becauseImissyoulikecrazy.

She clasps her hand over her heart, and then looks up at me. “I’m falling in love with you too,

Drew,”shesays,andthosewordsfromherareevenbetterthanwinning.Becausethey’reeverything.
Shetapsherfingersagainstmychestandlowershervoice.“ButIdon’twanttogiveyouasurfing
lessonrightnow.”

“Youdon’t?”
Sheshakesherhead.“I’drathergetoutofthisbikini,ifyouknowwhatImean,”shesayswitha

naughtyglintinhereyes.“AndIthinkyoudo.”

“Oh,Ido.Imostdefinitelydo.”
Icouldn’tbehappierthatherhomeisfiveminutesfromthebeach.Beforeweknowit,we’reinside

herhomeandI’mmakinglovetoDani.

ThisisthestreakIdon’twanttobreak.

Epilogue

Sixmonthslater

Wearecoveredinsand,andsun,andtheocean.

AndIwouldn’thaveitanyotherway.Myboyfriendhasbecomethesurfingquarterback.Wedidn’t

get to the lesson right away. We often seemed to find other things to occupy our days. Work and
lovingeachotherhaveawayofbeingconsuming.

ButwewentsurfingtogetheronhisdaysoffandIgavehimplentyofpointers.He’safastlearner,

nosurprisethere.Healsohappenstolookinsanelyhotonasurfboard.Thoughthatfacthasnothing
todowithhowquicklyhemasteredthesport.Ijustenjoytheviewwhenhe’stheview.

Wesurfoften,butwealsoliketogotothecinema,andsometimesweholdhandsinthetheater,and

sometimeswemakeoutliketeenagers.Butwealwayshaveagoodtime.We’vegoneparasailingtoo,
andhadablastfloatingthroughthesky.Somuchofmytimepre-Drewwaswork,work,work.While
Istilladoremyjob,andIstillneedittotakecareofAlly,I’vealsoembracedthelittlethingsinlife,
whichhavebecomethebigthings.

Liketimewithmyboyfriend.
Onlynowhe’smyfiancé.
Oops. Guess I forgot to mention that part. He proposed to me last month, a little while after Los

AngeleswontheSuperBowl.

Oh, yeah. That was absolutely amazing too. A complete and utter thrill as I watched him lead the

teamtovictory.Drewwasn’tMVP.That’dbetoomuchgoodluck.Elkinsnabbedthehonorwithtwo
receptions for touchdowns, and those hands like magic. But Drew guided the team, and got them
there.Atrueleader.

Now,hehasaring,andIhavearingtoo.Wetreasurebothourringsfordifferentreasons.
Hemovedinwithmeafterheproposedonedaywhileparasailing.Ilikelivingwithhim,especially

since he’ll be staying in Los Angeles for several more years. The team signed him to a five-year
contract,andtheylovehim,justlikethefansdo.

ButnotasmuchasIdo.
Hemightbelongtotheteam,andhemightbelongtothecity,butattheendoftheday,andeachand

everynight,hebelongstome.Aswewalkoffthebeach,IwavetoAlly,who’swaitingattheseaside
barwhereDrewandIhadourfirstunexpecteddate.

Sheholdsuphermargaritaandsmilesfrombehindhershades.NexttoherisJason,lookingcool

andrelaxedandcompletelysmitten.HishandrestsontopofAlly’sonthetable.He’salwaystouching
her.Alwaysgivinghersweetlittlegifts.

Wesitdownandjointhemforaround.
“Crackyourskullopenonastraysurfboardthistime,hotshot?”Jasonasks.
“Yeah,anditviolatedmynewsneakercontract,”hefiresback,andIlaugh,knowingDrewzinged

Jasonthistime.ButIdoubtJasonminds,especiallysincealliswellwithDrewandhisnewsponsor,
the shoe company. Jason inked that deal and thanked me for helping them sidestep disaster with
Qwench.

“Ouch,”Jasonsays,pretendingtobewounded.

“Ifyou’rehurt,she’llhelpyou,”Isay,pointingtoAllyasIshieldmyeyesfromthesun.
AllyleansclosertoJasonandpuckersup.“Whateverhurts,I’llkissitandmakeitbetter.”
Yeah,we’reallprettyhappynow,andIloveourlittlefoursome.
ButIespeciallylovemyguy.
AfterIfinishmymargarita,andJasonandAllyheadoff,Drewtakesmyhand.“Hey,surfingangel,

anychanceyouwanttoheadtothepierandplaywhack-a-mole?”

“Youdoknowthatsoundsvaguelydirty,right?”
HesmacksmyrearasIstand.“Idoknowthat.Andifyouwanttogohomeandplaywhack-a-mole

withmerightnow,youwon’tevenhavetotwistmyarm.”

Igivehimanarrow-eyedstare,likeI’mweighinghisoffer.ThenInod.“Let’splayonthepierfirst.

Oh,andonthewayhome,itwouldbegreatifyoucangetmeaSlurpee.”

Hesqueezesmyhand.“Andifyougetabrainfreeze,I’lljustcureitmyself,”hesays,thengives

meakiss.Withtongue,ofcourse.

Maybe we’re corny, but we’re also happy, and if I had to choose a few words to describe how

happyIamwithDrewitwouldbenaughtily.Incredibly.Andblissfully.

Bio

Lauren Blakely writes sexy contemporary romance novels with heat, heart, and humor. She is the
authorofelevenNewYorkTimesbestsellersandhertitleshaveappearedontheNewYorkTimes,USA
Today,andWallStreetJournalbestsellerlistsmorethansixtytimes.HerseriesincludeSinfulNights,
SeductiveNights,NoRegrets,CaughtUpinLove,andFightingFire,aswellasstandaloneromances
like 21 Stolen Kisses, Big Rock, and Mister O. Lauren believes life should be filled with family,
laughter,andthekindoflovethatromanticsongspromise.ShelivesinCaliforniawithherhusband,
children,anddogs.ToreceiveanemailwhenLaurenreleasesanewbook,

signupforhernewsletter!

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Copyright©2016byLaurenBlakely

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Thiselectroniceditionpublishedin2016

FirstpublishedinNovember2016

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