I walk to the fridge and grab four beers. "Want one?" I ask while plotting a way to kill my sister when no one is looking.

"Sure," Jordan replies and winks at my sister.

"I'll take one too," Candice chimes in with her serious voice but she doesn't fool anyone.

"Over my dead body," I grumble and hand beers to Jordan, Steph, and Ty.

My mom heads into the kitchen as she is more than accustomed to the ongoing verbal jousting between me and Candice. She pulls out a large bowl of homemade bread dough and begins making dinner rolls. "I won't ask the same questions as the media, so tell us about yourself, Jordan," Mom requests.

Candice responds before Jordan speaks. "I couldn't find your college stats on the internet. It sucks that community colleges don't post like they should."

Jordan wiggles a bit and slips her phone from her back pocket. She scrolls through a few things and hands the phone to my sister. "Here are my stats." Candice takes the phone, sits down at the table, and goes into silent mode as she scans through the information.

This makes it possible for Jordan to answer my mom without interruption. "I've lived with my father up until coming here. My mom died a few years ago and I want him to move out here with me."

Mom walks over and gives Jordan a quick squeeze. "I'm sorry about your mom. That must have been incredibly sad and difficult."

"It was," Jordan says in a deeper than usual voice. "I miss her and I worry about my dad."

"Does your dad still work?" Mom asks as she heads back to the rolls.

"He's a computer analyst and he hasn't retired yet. It's what keeps him going right now, so I haven't bugged him too much."

"It's hard," Ty says. "Moving was a big decision even when Aiden signed with the Pronghorns. Now, though, it feels like home. We're thankful he insisted and for the warmer weather."

"Yes, I need to invest in shorts. The Bay Area isn't exactly known for its warm summer nights."

Candice looks up from the phone. "What if I take you shopping next week? I know all the best places and I bought these shorts for a great price." She stands and twirls around.

"That's because there is no material to them," I grumble with a pointed look at Ty.

He holds up his hands in defense. "Don't look at me. The last thing I'm doing in this family is telling one of the women what to wear or not to wear."

"She's sixteen."

Candice glares while Jordan hides her laugh behind a swallow of beer. She should know her damn pink lips touching that bottle are killing me and my family is only making it worse.

Candice hands the phone back to Jordan. "You need to work on your on-side kicks," she advises like she's been playing the position her entire life.

Jordan nods. "You're right, and my number one goal this year is to do just that. Thankfully, Lane Grisham, our punter has a good record with kickoffs in general and on-side kicks. I'm hoping he can give me pointers. In all fairness the team hired me because I score."

I almost cough into my beer. She's been playing community college ball. Her scoring average will drop at an alarming rate if she makes it to the first regular season game. It won't just be our players gunning to get her out of the lineup. Ninety percent of the red-blooded men in the league will be after her. It comes down to how good she can take a hit. My gaze sweeps her body and I don't see any part of her that can take the punishment required.

"Where are you staying right now, Jordan?" my mother asks.

"The hotel the team put me up in. I looked through the paper today for apartments and had no luck."

Steph's eyes are glued on the TV, which has gone back to live television. "That's you isn't it, Jordan?"

Jordan looks up. "Oh, shit." She covers her mouth. "Sorry about that. Someone recorded what happened at the store yesterday. Crap, I had no idea."

I pick up the remote, go back to the beginning of the segment, and turn up the volume.

Mike Goodwyn's voice fills the kitchen. "It seems that players and fans alike are not happy with the Pronghorns' ridiculous publicity stunt. It's so bad, a fan tried to knock some sense into Little Miss Muffet's head. Sadly, someone's grandma had to come to her rescue or the Pronghorns' new kicker might have broken a fingernail." The entire time he talks, a video replays behind him that shows a man purposefully shoving Jordan. I'm seeing red and Goodwyn isn't finished with his tirade. "Playboy Bunnies make a decent living and deserve more respect than a woman who thinks she can tackle the pros and be a-" He laughs long and hard. "I can't even say the words," he says to his co-host before looking directly into the camera. "Jordan Givens needs to go home and let the grown men do their job."

"That ass," my mother mutters. She walks over, grabs the remote from my hand, and shuts off the television. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Jordan. The man who pushed you and Mike Goodwyn both need an enema to clean out the backlog of shit in their intestines. It would improve their temperament greatly.

Jordan giggles and for the first time, her lips don't affect me like they usually do. I want to knock some heads together and it must show in my expression. Slowly everyone in the room glances in my direction. "Excuse me," I say as calmly as I can and leave the room before I explode. A man laid his hands on Jordan and she never said a word. I want to kill someone. It's a toss-up between Goodwyn and the asshole who assaulted her.