Page 8

HOLT

Sweat pours off me.

Literally.

There’s even puddles on the floor mat of my truck.

School starts a week from this coming Monday, so we started football practice this past Monday. There’s not too many things hotter in this world than Alabama in August. So, that’s definitely the one downside of practice.

If I were more polite, I would shower. If I were more thoughtful, I’d make myself smell better. If I were more considerate, I’d come bearing a gift. But that’s definitely one pleasant thing I’ve learned about Merit over the past several days…she doesn’t expect to be given something for nothing. She wants to work; she wants to earn.

And that’s not the only pleasant thing I’ve learned.

I’ve been unable to stay away. I’m chasing after her like a lovesick schoolboy. I can’t even function unless I see her once a day. Unless I spend time with her, unless I get my fix. Like a junkie.

She tried to avoid me on Monday, saying she had too much work to do at the store since it’s closed on Mondays. I showed up anyway. Uninvited. Same thing with Tuesday and Wednesday. I met her other employees—Kim and Emily. They are nice girls, but you can tell she’s not as close to them as she is Kyra.

Sliding out of my truck, I grab the towel I was sitting on and use it to wipe the rest of the sweat from my body. I toss it in the back seat and turn around, studying the strip mall, giving myself a second to cool down before putting on a fresh T-shirt. The steaming heat rising from the asphalt pales in comparison to the heat from my own heart when I see Merit standing in the storefront, working on the window display. Even from here, I can see her mouth fall open. I watch as her eyes travel the length of my body, eagerly ogling my bare torso. I’m sure she can’t make out every line and muscle from where she is, but what she can see? She likes.

A lot.

I’ve done photoshoots. I’ve posed for magazines. Hell, I was even May in the annual team calendar. And none of that has ever made me feel the way I feel with her eyes on me, staring at me across a parking lot.

A car drives past, severing our staring contest. In perfect timing—that I’ve determined can only occur with Merit—the head of the child’s mannequin she’s holding falls off and bounces against the glass with a loud bang. Loud enough I can hear it from here. I nearly collapse in laughter. Embarrassed and frustrated, she drops the decapitated body and scrambles from the display window.

Tugging the shirt over my head, I head into the store, smiling when Kyra glances up from the floor. She’s sitting on the carpet, surrounded by paperwork and a huge box of new clothes. I look around, not immediately seeing Merit. “Customers?”

Kyra shakes her head. “This morning was really busy, but it’s been quiet this afternoon.”

I know it’s selfish, but I’m glad she doesn’t have any customers right now. It means I can have a few uninterrupted minutes with her.

And I want every single minute I can get.

I’m charging to the back room, like I own the damn place, when Kyra’s voice stops me. “I don’t know if I would do that.”

Her voice holds an edge of teasing good humor, but I’m scared, too, because there’s also a heavy dose of realism. Cynicism. “Why not?”

“She couldn’t resist the temptation any longer.”

I lift an eyebrow. “What temptation?”

Kyra twists left and right, stretching her back. “The temptation to know more about you.” She sighs. “She was glued to the computer for hours.”

“Shit.” I drag my hand across my chin. “I was really hoping to avoid all that.”

Kyra shrugs. “You’re the one who kept asking her if she looked you up on the Internet. You were poking the bear. What did you expect?”

Kyra’s right. I know how curious Merit is. I knew this day was coming. I was a fool to think I could skirt by the inevitable.

I grab the back of a chair, running my fingers across the fabric. “How bad is it?”

She chuckles. “Well, it’s not good, Holt. I did damage control the best I could, but she’s definitely back on her ‘I don’t date’ kick.”

Shoving my disappointment in the pit of my stomach, I hold my head high and round the corner to the back.

Kyra hollers after me. “You’ve been duly warned.”

Nerves are a funny thing. I’ve played in front of crowds of a hundred-thousand fans. People on the other side of the world have watched me on TV. I’ve met the President of the United States. Multiple presidents, if we’re getting technical. And yet, standing here, I can’t immediately think of another time where I’ve been quite so nervous. The thought of her saying she doesn’t want to see me again leaves me sick, physically in pain.

She’s stacking shoes on one of the large shelves. Her hair is pulled high into a messy knot, and she’s wearing pink cotton shorts and a tank top. Every time she lifts her arm, I catch a glimpse of her sports bra. Despite my best efforts, my body reacts. I accidentally bump a hanger, and she immediately jumps, locking eyes with me. Her black eye has finally faded to a pale yellow. Of course, it wouldn’t matter if it marred her face for the rest of her life… she’d still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

She’s made for me.

She’s mine.

I know it’s completely idiotic and stupid to think those thoughts after just a couple of days, but they’re there, nonetheless. Oh well, I’ve been called many things in my life, and extremely intelligent has never been one of them. I leave that title for my sister and my cousin.

She tries her best to keep her face devoid of emotion and returns to stacking the boxes. “You shouldn’t be in the back, sir.”

Anger flames through my veins. “Seriously, we’re back to that now?”

“Back to what?”

I stalk over next to her. “Formalities.”

She shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with being formal.”

She’s trying not to look at me, but I catch her stealing a glance. It gives me a small sliver of hope. “Mer, there’s many things I want to be with you, and formal isn’t one of them.”

A bright red blush colors her cheeks. Despite that, her eyes hold a sadness. “You should leave.”

A grunted sigh races from my lungs. “So, what exactly is it that you believe?” I take a step closer. “That I have triplets with a woman in Australia? That I threw the Super Bowl because I owed money to some gangster loan shark? That I went to jail for assault?”

Having put the last box on the shelf, she nervously glances around, searching for something to occupy her time. Finding nothing, she has no choice but to begrudgingly face me. “Well, I know you don’t have children. If you did, you’d talk about them. Just the way you talk about Anna and Ty and Laura.”

I nod, amused at the thought she’s given it.

“And I know you would never cheat at football. We’ve not really talked about it, but I can tell you love the game.” She looks down at her feet. “You don’t cheat on something you love.”

Huh. Why do I feel like there’s more to that statement?

Bypassing it for now, I give her a crooked smile. “And the assault?”

Lifting her head, she captures me in the hazel maze of her eyes. “From what I can tell, you weren’t actually arrested.”

She’s right. I wasn’t.

I walk over to the fridge she keeps in the corner and grab myself a bottle of water. I down half of it in one swallow. “So, that’s why you’re acting this way? Because I punched someone? I’m not sure what you read, but the guy was a perverted creep. He grabbed a girl without her permission. Put his hands all over her ass. And by ‘girl’, I mean girl . She was only fourteen. She did look older, but I had just met her and her family at a fan event; I knew how old she was. Her parents were on a tour of the press box, so she and her friend were standing by themselves, and I saw the guy hitting on her. I warned him to back off. He didn’t. And then he touched her. He’s lucky a broken nose is all he got.”

Her mouth drops open. “Holy crap. That’s terrible. She’s lucky you were there.”

I put the bottle down on the small table and slowly make my way back over to her. “So, that’s it? You understand why I did what I did? We’re good? Me and you?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean—” She growls and shakes her head. “I mean that’s not why I was saying you shouldn’t be here.”

“Then what’s the problem? What’s the rumor you believe? I thought you were the one who told me the Internet was filled with lies and falsehoods.”

She lowers her voice. “It’s not a lie.”

I fold my arms across my chest, standing tall. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”

She tilts her chin, challenging me.

I love it.

She mimics me, folding her own arms across her ample chest. “Fine.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s truly hurt by what she’s about to say. “You’re really rich.”

Well, that’s completely unexpected.

I think I’d be less shocked if she believed the tabloid story that I was in cahoots with the cartel and transported drugs across the country in hollow footballs.

“And that’s a problem because…?” I wait for her to fill in the blanks.

She looks left and right, like she’s checking to see if someone is spying on us. “I mean, you’re like obscenely rich.”

I lift my eyebrow. “And just how much do you think I’m worth?”

“I don’t know, but it said you were a Round One pick. And that your four-year draft contract was $30 million with a $20 million signing bonus. Is that right? And then, there was some craziness about a new contract at $20 million per year. That can’t be right.” She narrows her eyes. “Is that right?”

All the women I’ve ever dated, before now, have loved my money. Loved my money more than me, as a matter of fact. So, I can’t understand why Merit finds this so troublesome. It’s refreshing—don’t get me wrong—I’m just worried about what her concern actually means.

Since I can’t lie to her, I figure a simple one-word answer is the best solution. “Yeah.”

“See? That’s what I mean.”

No, I don’t see anything.

I bend my neck left and right, stretching it, giving myself a second to compose a response. “Well, granted, I don’t know anything about your family’s finances, but you married into one of the most successful attorney families in the state. I can’t imagine you were eating potted meat sandwiches and picking up cans on the side of the road.”

She dramatically rolls her eyes. “Of course not. And yes, Edward is very well-off, but he’s a pauper compared to you.”

This conversation is making my head hurt. Deciding to play dirty, I lift my arms in the air and turn my ballcap around backward. I watch in hungry delight as Merit’s eyes roam my body, setting me on fire. “So, what exactly are you saying? I know I’m dehydrated and not firing on all cylinders, but I’m not really seeing any issues here.”

Blinking the painted lust from her face, she cocks a hand on her hip. “How can you say that? It’s a major issue.”

“My money is a major issue? You’re saying you can’t date me because I’m too rich?”

She smiles widely, proud that my pea-size brain has finally put two and two together. “Exactly.”

“You’re freakin’ kidding me, right?”

She frowns. “Why would I be joking?”

“Because it’s absurd, Mer. Money is far from the most important thing in life. In fact, I can honestly say it has no bearing on my happiness. As long as my family is healthy and I’m gainfully employed, I’m happy. Don’t get me wrong, I am completely blessed to have my money. And now that I have it, my goal is to help others and preserve it for my kids and grandkids and their grandkids. But you’re acting like I earned my money by making a deal with the devil, like I walked into the bank making deposits wearing red horns and carrying a pitchfork.”

She gasps. “I didn’t say that. I’m sure you worked hard for every penny you earned. You don’t strike me as someone who would take advantage of the system.”

I step closer to her, tossing my hands in the air. “Then we can date.”

“Oh no, we can’t date.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re rich.”

“So?”

“So…” she draws out the syllable, mocking my last word. “You can do anything you want, whenever you want. You could fly to Hawaii right this second if you wanted. My parents went to Maui for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. They had to save for five years to be able to do that.” She bites her bottom lip, drawing my attention to the pink fullness. “You go to parties with famous movie stars. You date supermodels.”

Ah.

I take another step in her direction. “Who said I date models?”

“I saw pictures.”

“I dated one model. Only one. And it was years ago. Right after my first Super Bowl win.”

The pout on Merit’s face literally makes me weak in the knees. It’s infuriatingly sexy. “Yeah, but she’s a supermodel. Everyone knows who she is. In the grand scheme of things, that’s like dating four regular models.”

Holy hell. She’s cute when she’s spiraling out of control. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

I use the opportunity to take another step. “Well, as you can see, we’re no longer dating. In fact, we were never even really together. It was only five or six dates. It just seemed like more because of the paparazzi pictures.”

She rubs her eyes, wincing when she rubs her healing black eye too hard. “That proves my point. Paparazzi followed you. You’re incredibly good-looking, rich, and successful. You’re famous. You can date anyone you want.”

“Then why are you making it so difficult for me to date you .”

“You don’t wanna date me.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Why would you say that?”

She looks down. Studying her body, she runs her hand across her stomach, straightening her tank top and tugging on her shorts. “Because I’m me.”

Break my fucking heart.

I don’t know what the hell this Edward guy did to her self-esteem, but I wanna beat the shit out of him.

I close the distance between us, wrapping my arm around the small of her back before she has the chance to escape. I nuzzle my lips against her hairline. I can still smell her shampoo and the cleanliness of her skin. “That’s exactly why I want to.”

She inhales, and her breasts push against my chest. My heart’s beating so loudly, I have to stop breathing because I’m afraid she’ll say something and I won’t be able to hear her. She wiggles, halfheartedly trying to untangle herself from my embrace. Quickly giving up, she lays her hands on my biceps and gently traces my muscles with trembling fingers.

It’s quite possibly the most erotic touch I’ve ever had.

Doesn’t bode much for the supermodel, does it?

“So, what do you say? Go out with me tomorrow night? I wanna take you someplace special.”

She shakes her head. Her whisper is strained. “I don’t wanna go out with you.”

“Don’t lie, Merit.”

“Mmmm?”

“You’re dying to go out with me again. It’s written all over your face.”

Instead of answering, she looks off to the side, pretending to study my water bottle on the table.

“Tell me the truth.”

Eventually, she grunts. “Fine. I wanna go on another date with you.” She looks up into my eyes. “But I warn you, there’s no caterpillar waiting to transform into a butterfly under all this. This is what you get. Brown hair, crazy brownish eyes. I’m completely average. Completely normal. I’m not even tall. Your supermodel is six-feet tall.”

My laugh bounces off the walls. “First of all, she’s not my supermodel. Second, you’re what? Five-eight? The average height of the American woman is five-four. So, see? You’re actually way above average.”

Her teasing smirk makes my dick jump again. “I noticed you said American woman. Perhaps, you should be more concerned with the statistics of women in Australia. I mean, you do have triplets with one.” She giggles at her own joke, covering her nose with her hand when she softly snorts.

It’s then I realize…

After these two years of missing my football career… After craving the thrill of being right in the middle of the sport I love…

I’m in for the game of a lifetime with Merit Eliza Browning.

And there’s no place else I’d rather be.