The call ends and I actually sigh. "This isn't a date, this isn't a date," I recite as I head to the bathroom. If it was a date I couldn't go. The fact that Aiden's speaking to me in a civil voice could go down as the first miracle of the season. Yeah, I'm reading way too much into this and I need to stop.

I take a run to work off my nervous energy and find myself at the stadium gym. I show my ID and the guard lets me inside. He also gives me directions. After a couple of wrong turns, I find the gym.

"Oh my heck," I whisper when I look around. It's amazing, and the athletic smell of sweat I expected in the locker room is alive and well here. It does something to my insides. The odor may be repugnant to others, but for me it's like coming home.

A couple of players walk in while I'm lifting weights. They don't appear happy to see me. "Good morning," I offer. One grunts and the other gives a quick "Hey" and then they both ignore me. Really there isn't much that could destroy my good mood at this point. I'm going to dinner at Aiden Patrickson's mother's house. I finish my workout, jog back to the hotel, and send Aiden a text.

Me: jeans or dressy?

A few minutes later.

Aiden: Jeans

Jeans it is. I call my dad after the "proper attire" situation is settled.

"Hi, Dad." Tears well in my eyes for the strangest reason.

"Sugar bear. How ya doing?"

A single tear rolls down my face and I wipe it away. His voice is so comforting and I can't help growing emotional. "I'm great. Did you watch my interviews?"

"More than once." He laughs. "I taped them and replayed them again an hour ago. I'm so darn proud of you."

I twirl around in a slow circle and laugh. "Save the recordings and we'll watch them together when I come home. I'll point out each time I almost blew an answer and in what parts my nerves stuck it to me."

"You were ice cream on a warm day, honey."

"You always know just what to say." I sniff and change the subject so I'm not a mess of tears. "I have a question for you. Guess who I'm having dinner with tonight."

"Uhh, Larry?"

"Larry had a crisis and had to leave early. No, this is a player."

"At this point in the season isn't there something like ninety players?"

"There are. This one will be on the team after they trim to fifty-three."

"Aiden Patrickson," my father answers.

"You're no fun. It is Aiden. His mom and sisters want to meet me, so he's taking me to his mom's for Sunday dinner."

It's my father's turn to laugh. "That was a wild guess. I'm glad things are working out."

I can't be dishonest with my father, and I tell him about the incident in the store when I went for a newspaper. He's not happy and wants me to report it to the coach. He finally relents when I agree to talk to a coach about it.

I hate hanging up the phone. "Our first regular season game is at home. Can you make it?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, sugar bear."

Tickets were part of my contract, but I'm not sure how many I receive. I text Larry with the question as soon as I hang up with my dad. I have a lot of time to kill, so I turn on the television and watch sports news. That ends quickly because they're all talking about me and all I want is some football insight for this season. I already know about me. I start combing the internet on my phone. I've looked at all the Pronghorns' player stats for weeks now. I skim back through them anyway and stare at Aiden's list of achievements.

Last year he was ranked twenty-seven out of thirty-four starting QBs. He's more talented than his stats give him credit for because unfortunately his team doesn't let him shine. The Pronghorns' best asset is their defense, which is currently ranked at number four.

Larry answers my text.

Larry: Four tickets per game bottom section.

Me: Thanks!

I'm one short if I want Reg and Laura to have tickets too. I'll figure something out. I kill hours memorizing stats and learning everything I can about my teammates. When I notice the time, I head to my suitcase and take out what I plan to wear to Aiden's. I hop in the shower to remove the dried sweat from my earlier workout. Once I'm clean, I consider my hair. It's brown and long with curly waves in all the wrong places. Nine times out of ten I wear it braided or in a ponytail. With a frustrated huff after trying to twist it into some semblance of normalcy, I decide to leave it down and let it do its thing.

I pull on jeans and add a pair of strappy, one-inch, pink sandals to my feet. I wear my "Like a Girl" T-shirt accented with glitter and rhinestones. My dad gave it to me years ago. From what Aiden said about his mom and sisters, I have allies and the shirt will ring true with them.

I head out of my hotel suite three minutes early. I walk off the ground-floor elevator and head around the corner only to come to a halt and quickly duck behind the half-wall. The media is out front. So much for fifteen minutes of fame. I take several hallways until I end up at the west exit. Or at least I think it is. I open the door and Aiden is leaning against a red monster truck. The roof is taller than he is. I expected some kind of sport car. This goliath is way over the top.

And then there's Aiden himself. He's in jeans that ride low on his hips, a plain white T-shirt, and cowboy boots. I lift my eyes and he's giving me the once over too. When his gaze shifts to mine, he smiles.

It's like I undergo an instant lobotomy but that's only my brain. My female parts go haywirenipples hard and panties wet. Aiden Patrickson smiling at me is like my brain on crack cocaine and my body sitting on the biggest vibrator on the market.

He drops the smile. "Is my zipper undone?" he asks.

My eyes go straight to his zipper and his laughter shatters the spell. I've been playing football with guys for two years and it's next to impossible to make me blush. Aiden does it with four words. There's a sparkle in his dark eyes. Seeing him like this is nothing like the pictures online or even at the meeting two days ago. Right now he's the ultimate bad boy and every woman's fantasy. It's the white T-shirt against his tan skin that shows off his lean, hard muscle. Or maybe it's the way his jeans fit his long legs that makes me think of him holding me up against a wall and using those legs to drive his cock deep. Hell, it could even be his bedroom eyes or wavy brown hair that begs for my fingers to run through it.

He shakes his head when I don't answer. "Come on," he says with a touch of disappointment in his voice. "I'll help you into the seat."

I know exactly what I've done. I've made a complete idiot of myself and acted like every other girl that gets within a mile of him. He's probably tired of women drooling and becoming tongue-tied. Hell. I check the side of my mouth. No drool, thank God. He places his hand out and I take it. He's not looking at me when he opens the door. "Sorry about that," I say. "You're larger than life and I had a fan moment." I step onto the side runner. He releases my hand and places his fingers around my waist, lifting me upward so I slide effortlessly into the seat.

Adding to the awkwardness of my uncensored eye fuck, his unique smell permeates inside the cab of his truck. I refuse to call it a scent. To my thinking, a scent is perfume-y. This is something way more. It's like he's out in the woods trying to attract a female to the strongest mate. I can't even describe it other than to say that it works. God, does it work.

A minute later, he's in his seat and looking at me. "A fan moment, huh?"

"No worries, I'm over it. When I meet players like Killian MacGregor or Matt Ryan, expect the same reaction. I'll actually count on you to give me a signal if I start drooling." I chose the number one and two quarterbacks in the league for a reason, and it's fun to watch Aiden's lips compress in distaste.

"Killian and Matt? I'll remember that, but no way will I help you with your drooling problem when it comes to them." He lifts his hands and his finger touches the side of my mouth. "I'll help you with your drool only when it's me." He wipes the corner of my mouth. I know there's nothing there and he's teasing me. This softer side of him won't help me fight the attraction simmering inside me. Right now, my body is on fire and a zing travels along my nerve endings and goes straight to my lady parts. I'm failing every "girls can play football too" rule there is. My infatuation needs to stop right now. I slam my jaw shut, barely missing my tongue and lean away. "Don't think you can seduce me out of playing for the Pronghorns."

His hand drops and his face goes blank before he busts out laughing. "I actually hadn't thought about it, but now that you've put it in my head- we'll see." He throws his truck in gear and drives us away from the hotel.

Crap, I think I just challenged him.