He's being a goof and when he winks at me, I go back to being comfortable with him. "One ass slap after a field goal or extra point is in our rulebook."

"The other players have no idea what they're missing."

"We'll keep it that way." We banter until we reach the restaurant. Lane comes around the car and helps me out.

"This will be good for the team," he assures me. "You need to see them when they let loose a little and they need to see you in the same light." He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. He opens the restaurant door and we enter Dominque's Grill. A section in the back is sectioned off for the team. From the sounds coming from their direction, the drinks are flowing freely.

This is a team-only dinnerno family, wives, or girlfriends. This could be the first time a woman has desecrated their season kickoff party. We enter the back area and several players toss out hellos to Lane. Besides the long stares at my body and a few whistles, I'm ignored. Lane takes a table with two players I don't know. They're special teams and fighting for their positions. I, on the other hand, am fighting against no one for my position. I just want acceptance. "Jordan, these two delinquents are Carter and Kareem. They'll be keeping you safe on the line when you're kicking, so don't piss them off."

Carter grins, or at least I think he does. It's hard to see his mouth past the bushy blond beard. His hair hangs to his massive shoulders and a T-shirt clings to every muscled inch of him. Youza. From a distance, I didn't realize exactly how big he is.

"Kick the ball through the posts and you won't have a problem from me," Kareem remarks. His braided hair is pulled into a loose ponytail that hangs to the middle of his back. He carries the same muscle as Carter but appears bigger-if possible, meaner.

A waitress takes our drink order. "Beer, whatever you have on draft is fine," I say. The waitress writes it down and I realize the guys at our table have all stopped talking. "I'll take a glass of lemonade," Lane says and purposely bumps my arm and smiles when he speaks to the waitress.

"Beer, draft," Carter says. "I'm buying this round," he jokes because the team is picking up the tab.

"In that case, I'll have a cold draft too," Kareem adds.

"What?" I ask them after she leaves. The guys are still staring at me.

Lane smiles and shrugs. "You didn't get one of those girly drinks, that's what."

It's true. I learned to drink draft beer with the college players. Mostly I ordered what they were drinking so the bartender never looked too closely at my fake ID. Now that I'm over twenty-onebarelyit's still habit and I've actually grown fond of beer. When the waitress returns with our drinks, we order food. I ask for a finger platter that has everything from fried zucchini to potato skins. Lane makes small talk with the other two while I listen. He's right. It's nice to enjoy the relaxed environment and get to know some of the special teams' players.

The food arrives and we dig in. Lane tries to grab a cheese stick from my plate and I slap his hand. "Touch my food and you'll lose your fingers. I'm starved."

He rubs the back of his hand like I actually hurt him. "Did anyone ever tell you a woman should eat salad and pretend she's never hungry?"

I laugh and plop the cheese stick he was after into my mouth. I moan over the creamy cheese and fried sin. "Nope, I missed that memo," I say after I swallow half the cheese stick.

Lane leans in close. "So I need to ask," he whispers.

I look at the other two guys, who are watching the interchange. "Ask," I say warily.

"Do you do anything like a girl?" No smile. He just leaves the question out there.

I lick my lips and lower my voice. "I do one thing exactly like a girl." I lean in closer and whisper loud enough for the other two to hear. "I slide a tampon in like a pro." Lane instantly leans away. "You asked," I add with a mischievous smile.

Carter and Kareem start laughing. "Yeah, you asked, Lane. Maybe if you're nice she'll show you her technique."

Lane smiles with good humor. "I think I'll pass on that lesson or even seeing it in action."

"Hand me the dessert menu," I tell Carter. He cocks his head and then shakes it. I give him the evil eye.

With a huff, he hands me the menu and mutters, "Woman can eat."

He's right, I can. I order chocolate cake with ice cream and fudge topping. The guys stare wide-eyed while I enjoy dessert and request another round of beer. Lane sticks to lemonade. "That was great," I groan after the last bite. I push the plate away and rest back against the chair, completely stuffed.

"You actually ate the entire thing," Kareem says in wonder.

I take a long pull from my beer. "I take my food quite seriously" Commotion to the side of us makes everyone turn.

With the assistance of several players, Aiden is standing on one of the tables. "Attention," he shouts. He lifts his beer and his gaze travels around the room. He catches my eye and holds me captive for longer than he should. He's so damn gorgeous. Even when slightly tipsy. I want to lick him from ankles to neck. He lifts his beer. "To a winning season, for the love of the game, and-to the pain."

"To the pain," we yell back and join Aiden in the toast.

Tobias Landy reaches up and grabs Aiden around the waist, which isn't easy. "Come here you silly little muffin." He swings Aiden down and cradles him in his arms while everyone laughs and hands out encouragement from "drop him" to "smack that ass." People unaccustomed to the rowdy nature of football players might question what's happening right now. This is stereotypical big boys and their toys. They're the biggest boys and the biggest toy on the planet for them is football. I could be in the community college locker room right now. The only difference-these are men with million-dollar contracts playing America's number one sport. They're acting like teenagers.

Landy hands Aiden off to another player like he's a newborn and everyone needs to have a look at him. They're all laughing and joking and Aiden is being good-natured as he gives them hugs and head noogies. Lane and I move in closer and Carter takes all six foot whatever of Aiden in his arms and pretends he's struggling to hold him up.

"Take his legs, Jordan, and don't drop the prima donna," Carter huffs and swings Aiden around so his shoes are in front of me. I place Aiden's feet on my shoulders. This leaves me staring down his long legs directly at his crotch. Laughter overshadows everything else in the room. It surprises me that Aiden just takes their teasing. I squeeze his calf muscles and run my finger along his leg until I get to the bottom hem of his shorts. This is accompanied by cheers and whistles from the men. One of Aiden's hands is on Carter's shoulder. With the other, Aiden grabs me around the neck and pulls me farther up his legs.

"Best bloody lips of any kicker in the NFL," he shouts and moves in to kiss me.

"You're hammered," I say and step back, releasing Aiden's legs. They drop like wooden boards and clunk on the ground. The guys help Aiden stand. "I'm glad you think my lips are nice, big boy." I pull my red lipstick from my pocket and pass the uncovered tip over my lips before smacking them. "These legs," I cock a hip and stick my kicking foot out, "aren't bad either." With a non-existent swish of my too-tight dress, I turn and walk away.

"Slammed."

"Direct hit."

Laughter follows me as I head to the ladies' room. What the hell is Aiden thinking? He's always in control. If he can't handle his liquor, he shouldn't drink. I touch up my lipstick and wash my hands to kill time. With a deep breath, I walk out of the bathroom and let out a small scream when I almost run over Lane directly outside the women's room. His hand comes out to steady me.

"Sorry about that."

His sudden appearance increased my heartrate and my hand covers my chest. "Worried I'd get lost?"

"Worried." He gives me the strangest look.

"Did I forget to wash something off my face?" I ask and cover my cheeks.

"No, you forgot to wash off the lovesick puppy dog eyes."

Oh hell no I didn't. He can't possibly have guessed. I bat my eyelashes at him. "Give a girl a little credit." I start to walk past him and almost make it out of the hallway but I stumble slightly. He gently takes my arm.

"You've had too much to drink and we're going home."

"Oh goody," I say as I clap. "Do you plan on tucking me in?"

"Maybe Patrickson will feel like it," he mutters.

"Shhh, don't say that."