When I suggested that we cover the bachelor event like a contest between two teams, Spencer couldn’t have been more pleased. Although this meant finding two more athletes, this is Boston. Handsome jocks abound in this city.

What I didn’t count on was Spencer’s newfound interest in mixed martial arts, and before I could blink, Jacob had been added to our roster of athletes in the bachelor contest. His fight in Vegas had catapulted him into superstardom, and Spencer was frothing to get him on board.

The upshot to all of this is that I’m now splitting responsibilities with Nicole, who was so grateful to be back on board, she actually brought me coffee the next morning to say thanks.

I wouldn’t say we’re friends now. I’m not delusional. But hopefully, this arrangement means I still have some time to cover news.

I rub my eyes, not caring if it smudges my mascara. Jacob left me three messages since I saw him on Tuesday. I’ve never been the kind of person to delete messages before I listen to them, but I’d rather fall into a paper shredder and be doused in lemon juice than waste one more minute on that man.

It was so awkward to see him while I was trying to work. While Daren was standing right next to me.

That’s not what stopped me from going over to Daren’s that night, though. It was overhearing the Rebel cheerleaders talk about him like he was a piece of meat they were hoping to enjoy buffet-style. Between seeing the hype footage of those girls fawning over him and the sorority sisters salivating during our Thursday interview, my decision to jump head first into this friends-with-benefits arrangement seemed foolish.

Him not texting or calling only solidifies my resolve to fly solo. Why do I even need a man?

Although now I’m going to get it from Sheri. I had finally broken the news to her that he and I had hooked up, and she nearly broke my eardrum screaming into the phone. But she’s out of town again for a while, so I don’t have to break her heart by telling her Daren and I aren’t happening any longer.

Just as I’m starting to focus on the work in front of me, the sports announcer says Daren’s name, and my head jerks up.

I have his game playing on a live web feed the station has set up—because I still have to stay on top of his stats for my weekly segments—while I make a few calls from the office.

Even though I’m trying to get some distance, when Daren gets sacked in the fourth quarter, my heart drops into my stomach, and the only thing I can think about is getting to him.

“He’ll be fine.” I flinch at the sound of Brad’s voice. He’s leaning into my cubicle with a bored expression. “It’s still preseason. They’re not going out a hundred percent.”

I remove my hand from my mouth and take a deep breath as I return my attention to the screen. “You’re probably right.” But God, it takes Daren forever to get up and walk off the field.

My heart is doing double time in my chest, and even though it’s only five o’clock and common sense tells me Daren won’t be home from the game for a few more hours, I can’t help the urge to race home and wait for him.

Calm down, Maddie. He doesn’t need you.

It’s true that Daren has hordes of fans. But when I stop to think about who he has in his life to take care of him, people who would be there for him in an emergency, I draw a blank.

I mean, I know he has his best friend Jax, but as a professional soccer player himself, Jax can’t necessarily be there at a moment’s notice.

And Clementine? I think they have the kind of relationship in which he could call her, but something tells me he wouldn’t.

Daren’s parents live in the area, but I haven’t a clue if they’re close.

Brad clears his throat, and I flinch again, irritated with myself for getting lost in thought. “How’s your laptop? Has that pinwheeling stopped?”

I keep my eyes trained on the game until the camera cuts back to the live play where the third-string QB takes the field.

“What?” I find myself chewing on my thumbnail.

Brad motions toward my laptop. “The pinwheeling. Is it any better?”

“Yes. It is. Thank you.” I finally turn and give Brad my full attention, and the wrinkle between his eyebrows smooths out. “I appreciate you always helping me with my tech issues. And the phone app you suggested to help me keep my passwords in one place is awesome.”

He nods and gives me a smile, but then the game gets his attention, and he frowns. “You know those guys are all players, right?”

I tense, wondering where this is coming from. “Of course.” After a beat, I add, “Daren’s just a friend. We work together.”

Brad’s expression is impassive, but the vein in his temple is sticking out. He shrugs and ducks out of my cubicle like that wasn’t the most awkward conversation ever.

When I get home a few hours later, I change into a pair of comfy sweats and a t-shirt, and I tie my hair into a ponytail. It’s time to grow some balls.

My hope is that Daren is totally fine, hanging out with friends, proving that I’m the world’s worst worrywart.

I hold up my hand to knock on Daren’s door, and it’s like déjà vu back to the night when I lied and told him I needed sugar. I want to chicken out again, but I think about the hit he took during this afternoon’s game, and at the very least, I know I should check on him. His SUV is parked out back, so I know he’s home.

Taking a deep breath, I knock. It takes a minute, but then I hear a groan and a muffled, “Come in.”

I turn the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Wandering in, I find Daren draped across his leather couch with ice bags strapped to his shoulder and ribs.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” I rush over, but he holds out a hand.

“I’m fine. This is nothing.” His eyes drift back to his flatscreen. “What are you doing here?”

His voice is cold, like I’m some trespasser. Maybe I am.

My head tilts down, and I stare at my Converse, feeling like this was a bad idea. I guess I didn’t help things by blowing him off this week. So I start there and blurt it out. “I’m sorry about Tuesday. About not coming over.”

“No biggie.”

He’s still staring at the TV. Wowzers. He does not look excited to see me. I have to admit this stings a little. I guess I’ve gotten used to him wanting to see me.

And yes, I get how bipolar I’m being. First I ignore him because I’m freaked out by all the girls pawing over him, and now I’m lamenting that he’s so aloof. Jesus, I have a problem.

I’m tired of these games. From both of us. I haven’t been myself all summer, not since Jacob and I broke up. This new me—the me who worries about guys and plays games like it’s grade school—is irritating as hell. I’ve never pussyfooted around before. It’s time to get a grip.

“Can I be honest with you, Daren?” His eyes finally shift to me. I motion between us. “This scares the shit out of me because Jacob cheated on me. I know you and I are casual, but that doesn’t lessen the fear factor for me at all. So I’m sorry for blowing you off this week and being weird. I just don’t want to get too invested and get hurt.”

We stare at each other, and he nods, almost imperceptibly. “I get that. More than you probably realize.” He shifts, grimacing as he tries to get comfortable.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope. I’m good.” He winces, shifting into another position.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

“Nope, but I can grab something later.”

He isn’t making this easy on me. I guess I can’t blame him. “Listen, I was about to make dinner. Let me bring you something. Or I can order out, but everything is pretty greasy around here, and I know you’re in training.”

“You don’t have to go through any trouble. Like I said—”

“I know. I heard you the first time.” I give him a small smile. “Give me half an hour, and I’ll bring you something. Is chicken stir-fry okay? I don’t use a lot of oil. It’s pretty healthy.”

His eyes soften, and a silence lingers between us. He clears his throat. “That’d be great, Maddie. But honestly, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. In fact, I could… I could cook here and keep you company if you want.”

“Yeah?”

God, that smile on his face is freaking adorable. His dimples peek out and my stupid heart does a little backflip.

“Yeah.” We stare at each other another awkward moment. He looks confused why I want to stay after my whole declaration about not getting hurt, so I decide it’s time to get fully invested. “Daren, you know the whole friends-with-benefits thing?” He nods slowly like he’s afraid of what I’ll say. “This is the friends part. I’ll be back in a sec.”

* * *

Daren groans around his fork. “Damn, woman. This is good.”

I laugh. “I think you’re just starving.”

“No, seriously. I love this.”

Smiling, I take a bite.

“So, Maddie, you cook and you make brownies?” He notices the confusion on my face and says, “You borrowed sugar that night so you could bake brownies.”

I nearly choke on my dinner. Reaching over for my drink, I shake my head. “I should confess something about that.” He stops chewing and looks up at me. “Okay, this is a little embarrassing.” His eyebrows raise as he waits for me to finish. “I didn’t come over that night to get sugar. I felt bad about how I treated you during our first interview, and I came to apologize, but all of your friends were over… and I chickened out.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkle. “Why did you have to apologize?”

“For being such a B to you that day. You were trying to help me get the interview, and I was pretty nasty to you.”

His brow furrows for a moment, and then he chuckles. “Aww, babe. If we’re going to hang out, you have to say ‘bitch.’ No abbreviations for curse words. Not now. Not after I’ve heard what you say when you’re naked.”

My mouth unhinges and I stare back. But before I can say something, he shakes his head. “And you had nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be the one to apologize for butting in. I thought it would be a cool assignment for you, but now I realize it’s pretty beneath you.”

“What?” My stomach sinks. “Why would you think that?”

“You do serious news, and that sports producer has you interviewing jocks and parading around in shorts and tank tops. I get how that would offend you. Not that you don’t look good, because holy shit, you are a fine sight in those shorts, but I know it’s not what you want to do.”

“Daren, interviewing you is not beneath me.”

He shrugs like this doesn’t matter, but it bothers me that he thinks I don’t care about what he does.

“I just thought it would be a cool way for us to hang out.” He laughs. “You know I don’t usually give a shit which Sports Center guy interviews me. But this was you. And I’d been curious about you.” He picks at his plate.

“You were curious about me?”

“Yeah.” His eyes are back on the TV, but I can tell he’s still invested in our conversation.

“Since when?”

“Since I met you, Maddie.”

“You mean this summer when I moved in?”

He turns to face me again, and his eyes pass over me in a slow sweep of my features. “No, since we first met. Last fall.”

Last fall. When I met him through Clementine. Wow. Okay.

Suddenly, I need something to do. I stand up and hold out my hand for his plate. He’s barely budged from the couch, only repositioning the ice packs and scooting up to shovel food in.

He’s bare-chested, and if the goosebumps on his skin are any indication, he’s cold.

I take his plate and set it on the counter before I ask where he keeps spare blankets. After reaching into his hallway closet, I pull out a cozy comforter and spread it over him.

“Maddie, come here.” He tugs me down to sit next to him. “I’m sorry about this week too. Honestly, you frighten me as well.” He reaches out and strokes my cheek softly. “I don’t want to get attached to you.”

The tenderness in his eyes makes me catch my breath. I look down, but he lifts my chin until I’m staring into his hazel eyes. “Just don’t hurt me.” It comes out a whisper.

He shakes his head with a small laugh. “I was about to tell you the same thing.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Why don’t we try this honesty thing? No pressure to be more. Just enjoy each other’s company like we said we would. With the option to reassess.”

Those dimples creep out again for a sneak attack on my heart. “I like this idea.”

He tugs me down to him until we’re nose to nose. I’m about to lean down that last inch for a kiss when he winces.

I realize I’m leaning on his shoulder, and I jolt back. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He’s in pain, but he gives me a huge grin. “I’ll be fine. Get your ass back here.”

Laughing, I lean down, and I’m expecting that kiss. Instead, he wraps me in his arms and gives me a hug, and a little piece of me melts.

“I've been thinking, ” he whispers in my ear, “that I might be able to kick your ass at Plants and Zombies. ”

I laugh. Goofball. I have no idea what the hell he's talking about, but I decide to take him up on the challenge.

“A chance to win some Southie bragging rights? Bring it, Sloan. ”

* * *

A few hours later I realize I'm about to die an inglorious death and get splattered all over the pavement. But at the last second, I duck, and the shot goes wide and blows up the shed behind me.

I glare at Daren. “Nice try.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the television screen.

If you think this man ever gives less than a hundred percent, you'd be mistaken. PlayStation, for example, is serious business.

Honestly, I suck at video games. I've never understood the appeal, but I can't deny how much fun we're having. But I play to win too, so I made him put on a t-shirt so he wouldn't distract me with those abs.

“Death!” I scream as my pea shooter takes down his zombie all-star football player.

Daren shakes his head and releases the death grip on his game controller. “Beginner's luck.”

A little snort leaves me. “Aww. Are you a sore loser? Big, bad Daren Sloan got his ass kicked by a little girl. Someone call CNN.”

He shrugs. “Didn't want to break your spirit.”

Laughter bubbles out me. “That was big of you." I crawl into his lap, toss my arm around his neck and kiss his cheek. “But you still lost. I think you need to be my slave.”

He snorts. “Slave, huh?”

I nod, and he squeezes me to his chest. “The job is simple. Feed me peeled grapes. Maybe fan me with a few large feathers.”

“So you're looking for an old school slave. Like, Egyptian times.”

“Cleopatra had it good.”

He laughs. “I don't think she ate grapes. Dates maybe.”

“Fine. Feed me dates.”

“All right, princess. Dates it is. But only if you can handle the tickle test.”

I stiffen in his arms. Tickle test? “No, Daren.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when his hands dart to my waist. I'm screaming and laughing and trying to fight back, except when we land on the floor, he pins me down. “Aww, you didn't pass,” he chides as he reaches down to squeeze my thigh, which makes me convulse with laughter.

“I hate you!” I scream and try to wiggle out of his clutches as I giggle hysterically. Finally, I manage to push against his chest. He pauses long enough to shake his head.

“Nah, babe. I'm adorable. What's not to love?”

He places a warm kiss on my forehead and rolls over, pulling me with him.

He's right. The thought sends warmth through my chest. What's not to love?