There weren’t many people in this world who could relate to my life. To know what it meant to be a football god. To understand the pressure. The physical stamina it took to perform at the highest level every day my cleats crossed onto the damn field. The moment the chalky lines coated my shoes.

But there was one. One man who got it. Who knew what I knew about the toll the game took on my body. Who knew how the sweat was more than physical exertion.

He didn’t give a shit about the trouble I got in off the field. He didn’t care about how many women I fucked, or how many nights I didn’t go home. He didn’t give me shit about anything. The man was my best friend for a reason. He let me live my life the way I wanted—wide open.

I knew Isaac planned on meeting with the new ownership today. That was just like him. He always had to have the first say.

I shook my head. The locker room was full of bullshit talk. Guys had been worked up for two weeks. Some wanted to leave the team. They didn't want to give ownership a chance to screw them over again. They couldn’t see any other path other than to quit.

I wasn’t wired like that. Quitting wasn’t in my vocabulary. Never had been. I liked winning at all costs.

I knew what I wanted to do. Whether or not, I could pull it off was another story.

I liked being a Warrior. I’ll rephrase that. I fucking loved being a Warrior. It was the only team I had ever played for. It was the only jersey I had ever wanted to wear. Growing up in College Station, it felt as if the Warriors were the home team. They were less than two hours away. Sure, some kids loved the Wranglers, but we weren’t one of those families. San Antonio was almost too far for a game-day drive. We were Warriors fans and that was the one place I had to play.

On game day, my dad hung the team flag in the yard. It didn’t matter that it was tattered and the colors started to run together from being left out in the rain. He put it up, no matter the weather.

They knew the colors. They knew the chants. They knew the leading scorers and retired jerseys, but what did my parents know about contracts? How did a ten-year-old boy know he had fallen in love with a broken program, a team that had never been on track? I didn’t know shit until the day I walked in the locker room.

I was drafted from college. As far as anyone knew, I was living the Texas football dream. My parents couldn’t be prouder that a boy from College Station could play for the Austin Warriors. The family team. Texas’s team.

I was a dick about a lot of things, but I wasn’t going to crush my mom’s pride with the truth. I kept them in the dark about the organization. I wasn’t going to kill the dream with honesty.

My phone buzzed. I looked down at the text from Isaac.

Meeting went well, fill you in later.

That's all it said. He was usually short on words, but what the hell? He met with ownership and couldn’t tell me what happened?

It was time I took fate by the balls. There was a small window of opportunity to get what I wanted. I threw my helmet in the locker. It landed on the floor with a thud.

“Where are you going, James?”

I wasn’t in the mood to explain myself. Everyone was on edge since McCade died. There was too much uncertainty circling us.

“Headed out for a while.”

“You’re going to see her, aren’t you?”

I whipped around to face Jackson Steele. The tight end was barely taller than me.

“None of your damn business.”

He laughed. “It’s a waste of time.”

“Why do you say that?” I questioned. “Have you gone up there?”

He shrugged. “No, but everyone says she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing up there in corporate. My bet is we’ll be sold before the season is out. Pointless trying to talk to her. You’re going nowhere with that one.”

I hung my head. “Shit.” Isaac hadn’t made it so sound hopeless.

“Face it. There’s nothing we can do. McCade screwed us twice. Once, when he signed us and again when he left us with her.”

“Fuck that,” I growled. “I’ll catch you later, Jacks.”

“She’s just gonna bust your balls, man. I tried to warn you,” he called after me. “We have practice in an hour.”

I charged out of the room with a new fire lighting my way. I wasn’t going to take his word for it. I walked down the corridor of the underground stadium tunnels, growing angrier with each stride I took.

I tapped the button, waiting for the elevator to carry me to the executive level. Within seconds, it took me to the top floor. My fingers curled into a tight fist. I could feel the blood pump through the strained veins on my wrist. My dream wasn’t going to vanish because some spoiled rich girl inherited my team.

The doors retracted and I stomped out. The executive suites were quiet. It looked as if it the entire place was empty. I rubbed the back of my head.

I expected to see Candy, but she wasn't sitting at her desk. I walked past it, remembering the few times we had hooked up. She was a hot fuck. The kind of girl who loved sex just for the sake of sex. She had no attachment to me or any of the other guys. I smiled. Why weren’t more women like that? Unattached? Available for just the right thing?

I was tired of women trying to take more than I was ready to give. I sure as hell didn’t want a girlfriend. I didn’t want commitment and all the bullshit that came with it. Candy seemed fine with a strictly fuck-for-fun arrangement.

This might be a wasted trip, but I walked to the old man's office. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been here. I stayed away from McCade. I stayed away from Coach. All I wanted was to play the game. This kind of shitty drama was exactly what I tried to avoid. I was here now out of survival. If I didn’t try to save my ass, I didn’t know who would.

I didn't bother to knock, assuming no one was here just like the rest of the office. But as soon as I opened the door, I realized how wrong I was.

Fuck.

I had never seen eyes that blue. Or lips that perfect.

Her beautiful mouth opened, and I realized she was staring at me. I wanted to dive in—cock first.

Her eyes were locked on my chest with a look of shock. I looked down. Shit. I had forgotten to throw on a shirt. I was wearing my warm-up shorts for practice and nothing else.

“C-can I help you?” she stammered. I saw the blush rise on her cheeks. Damn. She was gorgeous. Nobody had mentioned how insanely hot she was.

“I didn't think anybody was here,” I explained.

“Well, I am.”

“I see that.”

She shuffled papers on her desk. “Are you looking for Coach Applewhite?” she asked. “He left my office a while ago.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m looking for the new ownership.”

“Well you found her.”

I didn’t expect to find a woman so beautiful in the old man’s office. “I did.”

I took a step toward her.

“Let me guess. You're here because you want to talk to me about money.” She sighed.

I grinned. There was something about this woman that made me forget I had stormed up here ready for a fight.

“How did you know?”

Her eyes met mine. “I’m Vanessa McCade. You are here because of my grandfather. Or at least because of what my grandfather did. I've heard from a lot of your teammates today.”

She seemed frustrated or sad. I couldn't tell. “Right. Your grandfather. I’m sorry about that.”

“Thank you.”

I didn’t wait for her to offer a seat, I pulled up a chair and sat in front of her desk.

“I’m sorry," she whispered. “I should have just held a team meeting and let everyone stone me.”

“What?” My body took up the entire seat.

She shook her head, letting her loose blond curls fall around her face. “I’m sorry. That was overly dramatic. I know everyone’s frustrated.”

“Yeah, they’re frustrated and scared as shit their contracts are going to be torn up.”

Her eyes widened. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“No one around here knows that.”

“I don’t know what else to say except I’m so sorry. I really am. I don't know what you make. I don't know what's in your contract. I really don't know what money there is. I haven’t met with payroll or accounting yet.”

Her blue eyes drifted upward and my cock was suddenly as hard as a rock. It strained against my shorts. There was no way I was standing up any time soon. One look from this beautiful girl and I was hard as shit. What in the hell was happening? She was beautiful. Sexy. Soft and graceful.

“When will you know?” I asked. “All the guys have been here. They need answers. My best friend was here.”

“Your best friend?” I saw her blink back a tear.

I nodded. “Yes. Isaac Price. He told me you two met. Thought I should come up here myself. I need my own answers.”

“You two are the team’s best wide receivers and you are best friends?”

I laughed. “At least you know what positions we play. That’s something. But, yeah, we go way back. We played on a Pee Wee together. Then in high school. Isaac left for the Navy half-way through college, but I got him into open practice here after he left the Seals. You could say we are practically brothers.”

“Seals?”

I nodded. “Yeah. He was a Navy Seal.”

“Brothers,” she mouthed.

“Something wrong with that?”

She shook her head. “No. Nothing at all.”