“It’s kind of like life, you know?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he thought about it. His dark blond hair was cut perfectly on the sides and a little longer on top. His eyes were unique in color, and I’d caught myself staring a few times when he wasn’t paying attention. A gold rim surrounded his sage green gaze, and pops of caramel showed in the sunlight. “Sometimes you click with people, and sometimes you don’t. There’s no rhyme or reason most of the time. I’ve been lucky that I’ve clicked with a lot of amazing players who show up every day and work hard. So, we work at it, right? We keep trying until we get there. Not everyone wants to put in the work. Not everyone needs to, I guess.”
I nodded. “I get that. Have you always put in the work?”
It was a wasted question, but I wanted to hear what he’d say. Had this man always been this driven? This determined to be the best?
“Always.” He cleared his throat, and my gaze zoned in at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed there. “Things never came easy to me, but I was always willing to give it everything I had to get better. That shit pays off when you keep at it.”
“There are a lot of kids out there that probably like hearing that. So, you weren’t a superstar as a kid?”
“I didn’t say that.” He smirked. “But I worked at being a superstar. How about that?”
I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat again at the way he watched me.
“We’ve been so focused on your professional life, I thought we could take a minute to talk about your personal life. Are you dating anyone? Inquiring minds want to know.” I bit down on my bottom lip as I waited for him to answer. I’d been dying to ask. The press made him out to be a bit of a playboy. I wondered if the rumors were true.
“Yeah? Anyone specific want to know?”
I paused the recording. “No one specific. Just answer the damn question.”
He chuckled when I hit record on my phone again, and I shot him a warning look. “I date casually. That suits me at the moment. I travel a lot, and I don’t have time for complications.”
Buzzkill.
One more question.
“Okay. Last question for today. If you weren’t a football player, what would you be doing?”
His eyes widened, and he tossed his hands up in a shrug, letting me know he didn’t like the question. “I don’t know. This is all I’ve ever wanted to do, and I’m doing it. So, I can’t imagine my life off the field just yet.”
“You don’t have any hobbies?”
He reached for my phone and turned it off. “You already got your last question. And it was a lame one. No one gives a shit what I’d do off the field. Don’t waste your questions on dumb shit.”
The freaking nerve of this guy.
“Oh, you’re telling me how to do my job now?”
“If I think I can do it better, I will,” he said, pushing to his feet and walking to the refrigerator to grab a water.
“I’ve had enough of you today.” I reached for my keys and dropped my iPad into my tote bag. “I’m going home.”
He leaned against the refrigerator and studied me. “You’re not getting out of going tonight.”
“I’m quite aware. I made a deal, and I’ll follow through. But you’re annoying me at the moment, so I’m going to take a time-out.”
“What the fuck is a time-out? Are you always such a child?” He stalked toward me, taking long strides.
I turned around and walked toward the door. I didn’t appreciate his moodiness most of the time.
“A time-out means I’m tapping out, genius. I’m fairly certain you know what it means, seeing as you were probably put in time-out often as a kid with that attitude of yours,” I hissed as I reached for the door handle.
His long fingers wrapped around my wrist, and he turned me around. “Why are you so pissed?”
“You called me dumb,” I snapped. “I don’t appreciate it. I’m doing your stupid workouts and going along with your ridiculous game of three questions a day. I don’t need to be insulted by an arrogant, pig-headed, stubborn, moody, jockboy.”
His eyes widened, and he moved closer as my back rested against the front door. His face was so close to mine I could smell the pine and sandalwood mixed with his musty sweat that someone could bottle and sell for a ridiculous amount of money. My chest was rising and falling fast now.
The man’s stank was an aphrodisiac.
“Jockboy?”
“You heard me,” I said, but my voice was all breathy and desperate. What the hell was wrong with me? His nearness had some sort of sick effect on me.
“I didn’t call you dumb. I said your question was a waste. Tell me why you asked if I was dating,” he asked, his voice gruff. I squeezed my thighs together in response.
“Because I’m a reporter,” I said, glaring at him when all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. Just one taste. “It’s my job, or did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget anything, sweetheart.”
“Are you done harassing me now?” I whispered. Normally, a man calling me sweetheart would grate on my nerves, but coming from him, it was sexy. Ugh. “I need to leave before you drag me to crash a high school date tonight because you’re too much of a chickenshit to go by yourself.”
I needed out of this house. His hands were pressed against the door on each side of my face, caging me in now. And I liked it.
That had all sorts of warning bells going off.
I was not going to fall for the guy I was working with.
The man who’d just admitted he didn’t date.
What did that even mean?
He just graced endless women with his giant package. Rocked their world and gave them all the orgasms before kicking their ass to the curb.
It didn’t sound horrible at the moment.
With his muscled chest right in front of me.
He smiled. “I’ll pick you up in an hour. Be ready.”
“Can you back your big ole body up and give a girl some room?”
He nodded, his heated gaze locking with mine before he stepped back and reached behind me to pull open the doorknob. His arm grazed the small of my back, and goose bumps ran down my arms.
“See you later, Captain,” I said, trying to keep my voice even when I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.
From what? Fighting with this jackass? That was my weakness?
He didn’t respond, and I turned around when I slipped into my car. He was still watching me.
With an evil smile on his face.
He knew he was getting under my skin, and he enjoyed it.
The bastard.
ten
Lincoln
My phone buzzed through my Bluetooth, and Siri let me know that it was Brett Jacobs. Brinkley and I were driving to the football field, and she was definitely giving me the cold shoulder. Who knew what she was pissed about now. So, maybe I’d trapped her at my front door, for reasons that made no sense to me.
The woman was consuming me, and I wasn’t okay with it.
I didn’t get consumed by women.
I got consumed by football.
That was it.
Hell, I hadn’t even kissed her yet, and she was invading my every thought. I couldn’t take a fucking shower without seeing her face.