I might be drunk off feelings or the constant welling of tears has distorted my vision, but the way he’s looking at me knocks what little air I do have right out of my system. I can’t even pinpoint what I see. But it’s not the look of pity or disinterest. He doesn’t look irritated or annoyed that I broke down in his kitchen and he was forced to comfort me. It’s none of those things. Understanding maybe? I’ll never know.

“So . . .” He wiggles his eyebrows and looks cuter than anyone wiggling their eyebrows has a right to look. “Do you want that ticket and parking pass or nah?”

“Ugh.” I groan and take a step away from him. My brain is struggling to function from all of the nearness and physical contact of a human male. “I mean, if you insist. It would be rude to turn you down.”

“Thank you, I’m not sure my delicate ego could’ve taken the rejection.” He grins and his white teeth just sparkle against his beautiful dark skin.

I nearly fall into a trance looking at him, so for the sake of self-preservation, I turn on a heel and book it out of there. Only slowing down to yell over my shoulder once I’m sure his smile magic can’t take hold of me. “Hurry up, Howard. If you’re done being so unprofessional, it’s time to work.”

I don’t even make it around the corner before a wadded-up paper towel—just like the one I hit him with earlier—whizzes by my head, just missing its mark.

Note to self—don’t get into a throwing war with a professional fucking quarterback.

And not falling for him would be good too.

Twenty-four

Even though Quinton gave me a parking pass along with tickets—yes, plural, like I have friends who want to watch football with me—to the game, Vonnie insisted that we ride together. I gave in easily because there’s free booze and having a designated driver works in my favor more than anyone else’s.

What I didn’t realize is the insanity that comes from riding in a car with three boys who have been strapped down in their seats for forty minutes after they have no doubt been sneaking Halloween candy for the last week.

And let me tell you, if I wasn’t already planning on drinking, I sure as hell would be now.

“Mmmh. You see?” Vonnie says from inside the suite door as she watches me head straight for the bar. Her boys, who sprinted away from us as soon as we parked, are already sitting in their seats, plates piled high with goodies sitting on their laps. “You see why I made sure to make the woman who owns a bar my best friend?”