Cass sat on the edge of the bleachers, gathering her notes and looking over the interviews. She had most of it done.

It hadn’t occurred to her that when she took the job with the Dallas Star as a favor to her father—who was best friends with the owner, Henry Wilks—she’d end up face to face with Anthony Kincaid. She’d been too distracted with her father’s cancer lately. She scoffed now, thinking of the Kincaids. Of course the dynasty would be together.

It was almost the end of the camp, and Anthony still hadn’t come and taken a turn for an interview. She had all the rest, including Kade—who had been more than kind and had even hugged her when he’d realized who she was.

As the kids were assembled to leave on buses, Cass watched the players gather the equipment; quietly seething that Anthony had made her wait. She got up, gathering her laptop into the bag and slipping her notebook in, then zipping it shut. She had to get home, to get away from this man.

Marching out of the stadium, she nudged her thoughts toward a different path. Maybe she would end the day with a ride on the horses—the best part of being back in Dallas was going for long rides. She would forget about Anthony, forget about the past.

Shoot, when she’d first seen him today, she’d thought they might actually have a civil conversation. Obviously, he was as much of a jerk as he’d always been. Tears burned into the back of her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed closure with him.

“Cassidy!”

She kept going, knowing exactly who it was. A small, vindictive part of her took delight in ignoring him.

“Cassidy!” he called again, his voice was getting louder. She could imagine Anthony hurdling over the lines of the children to catch her. He’d always been amazing at running and she wouldn’t lie, she had watched a couple of his pro games and seen the way he used those long legs to hike over hulking men on the field. “Wait!”

Arriving at her car, her heart thudding, she stopped, not hitting unlock on her key fob, instead turning back to face him.

There he was, freshly showered, duffel bag over his shoulder. He didn’t look like he’d suffered a neck injury. All traces of hesitation were gone. Yes, she had kept tabs on his recovery, even though she hadn’t wanted to. She’d just been unable to stop herself.

“Cassidy,” he gasped, out of breath.

Slowly, she looked him up and down. Before, she’d been so stunned to see him up close she hadn’t had a chance to compare the high school boy to the man in front of her. At this moment she thought he looked absurdly beautiful, in a male model type of way. Tall, dark hair—jet black, to be exact. The same chocolate amber eyes, tinged with yellow.

She used to stare at those eyes for hours at a time. He used to stare back and play with her hand, drawing figure eight circles into her palm. All those memories stung like a slap in the face.

A wide grin stretched his face. “I wanted to give you that quote now.”

“Oh.” Was she supposed to be grateful the prince had graced her with his presence? Her mind scrambled for all the glorious words from only moments ago when she’d thought of a myriad of ways to cuss him out.

He didn’t say anything, just held her eyes.

They stood there for a long time. Finally, she cleared her throat and looked down. “I already got your quote from your brother.”

“Oh.” She heard the ticked-off tone in his voice. “You did?”

“You made me wait too long.”

Another moment of long pause between them. Of course she wasn’t talking about the stupid quote. If she were writing this scene in a book, it would be loaded with subtext.

“What is the quote Kade gave you?” he asked.

Cocking an eyebrow, she thought of the mischief in Kade’s eyes when he’d said it. “You don’t want to know.”

“What?” he demanded, putting his arm on the car next to her, getting closer.

She peered up at him, and her heart hammered inside of her chest. Even though it’d been ten years, she still felt like a teenager, waiting for him to kiss her. Waiting for him to pull her in and hold her. Oh, how she missed him.

That realization hit her like a ton of bricks. She cleared her throat. “He said, ‘The best day of my life was the day I got hired to play second-string to my brother.’”

His face went blank, and he had to muster a sardonic, half-amused look. “Yeah, not gonna work.”

She glared at him, wishing he would take a step back, give her some space. If she stepped back, it would be admitting that he still had an effect on her, so she held her ground. “Fine. What quote would you like me to put in?” She thought of the owner, Mr. Knight, and how he’d told her at the beginning of the camp she could refer to Anthony not as second-string, but as second-chance quarterback. “Are you going to give me some crap about second-chance quarterback?”

A penetrating gaze caught her off guard again. “You can quote me as saying, ‘I don’t believe in second chances. I believe in proving yourself right here, right now. And that’s what I intend to do.’” The way he stared into her eyes with that ferocity, like a warrior about to go on the battlefield, made her heart flutter.

She held to the car and tried to remain cool, calm, and collected. He clearly wasn’t talking about football, was he?

As if to make his point more clear, he closed the space between them and leaned down, gently brushing his lips to hers.

For a second all she could do was focus on his lips, it was like time slowed and she was sixteen again. It wasn’t long until her brain caught up to what was happening. Cass’s arms flailed and she dropped her bag, using both hands to push him away. Her mind raced. “No, no, no,” she muttered. Even as she said the words, her body reacted to this man. The inner struggle threatened to tear her apart.

Anthony reached out to steady her by taking her elbow. “I’ve missed you, Cass.”

Her warring emotions clouded her vision. Without thinking, she slapped him hard across the face.

His eyes widened, and he touched his cheek. “What the … Cass?”

She pulled in a ragged breath, picking up her bag, and unlocked the car. “Just stay away.” Her hands shook as she retreated inside.

“Wait!” He held the door, preventing her from shutting it.

She revved the engine. “Let go of the door,” she said, still in a controlled voice, even though every part of her felt out of control.

“Cass.” He wasn’t budging. “Cass, I want you to know something.”

Despite Cass’s anger, curiosity made her pause. “What?”

“I’ve forgiven you.” He let go of the door and took a step back.

Impossibly, even more dormant embers of anger sparked to life inside of her. She yanked the door closed and then rolled down the window. “Well, I haven’t forgiven you!” she roared, slamming on the gas and peeling out of the parking lot.