I grew up with three older sisters. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t either competing with them or against them. More times than not, it was against them. I think that’s the reason all four of us decided on careers that cost a fortune in tuition. Our parents are average, everyday people who could’ve worked until the day they died. I’m not sure they could have afforded to pay for our educations, and that’s okay. In many ways, I take pride in the fact I worked my ass off to get where I am today. I don’t have much in the way of a savings account, nor do I make as much as I’d like. I think that’s why I reacted the way I did to Jake’s comment about paying for a cab.

After I cooled down, I didn’t think he was trying to make me feel cheap. I did that all on my own—I never should’ve been with him in the first place. I made a pact to avoid men like Jake, and until the big ape crossed my path, I was doing an amazing job of sticking to my guns.

“How was your day?” Caleb sticks his head into my office with a grim smile.

“I’m guessing better than yours?”

He tsks, dropping into the seat across from my desk. “For the love of God, what are some people thinking?”

I burst out laughing. I shouldn’t take enjoyment in his misery, but either he lets more crap bounce off him—and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s not the case—or he somehow manages to score clients with a little more common sense than I do.

“Oh, please, do tell. What got your goat today?”

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “A woman attempted to steal a king-size bag of Skittles by shoving it down her kid’s diaper.” He ignores my widened eyes and continues. “Oh, wait…it gets worse. The clerk saw on the camera behind the counter what she did and told her if she didn’t remove the candy, he was going to call the police.” He pauses and gives me an odd look.

“Well? What happened?”

“She didn’t even try to play dumb. She shoved her hand down the toddler’s pants, grabbed the candy, and chucked the bag at the clerk. She was totally pissed off for being caught and doing nothing to hide her anger.”

My mouth turns up with a smile. “That’s not as bad as some of the people I’ve had to defend.”

“Yeah, well, the toddler had crapped his pants.”

I bring my hands up to my mouth in shock.

“Yeah, the clerk had shit slung at him. Literally. I was actually defending her on assault charges.”

I can’t contain my laughter, and for the first time since I left that damn hotel, my body starts to relax. “Thank you. I needed some good humor.”

Caleb shakes his head. “Come on. Let’s go grab dinner. After today, I need a fucking drink.”

I grab my purse, but I leave my overnight bag under my desk and follow Caleb out the door.

He continues to ramble on about his day, but once we’re at the restaurant with a beer in hand, I decide to ask him something that’s suddenly bothering me.

“Do you think I’m a hothead?”

“Yes.”

I draw in a sharp breath from his immediate answer.

“Oh, come on, Lace. Unless you were hoping I’d lie, what did you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know, but at the very least, I thought you’d debate it for a second.”

“Look, I didn’t say it was necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes your antics are fun and deliver a good laugh, but there are plenty of times when I’ve secretly begged for you to chill out.”

“I don’t always mean to, it’s just…” I trail off on a long sigh.

“Lace, you’re passionate about everything you do. At times, you’re a bit too passionate, but I’d still take you and your temper over any other friend I’ve ever had.”

I give him a weak smile. The urge to get up and hug him is overwhelming, but I fight it off or he’ll really know something is bothering me. “Thanks, Caleb.”

“No problem. I meant every word.”

I end up drinking a second beer while we talk about work but after a quick glance at the time, I know I need to get going.

“I hate to cut the night short, but I really need to get home. Morgan claims she has a few appointments to view apartments this week, and I’d really like to keep her moving in the right direction—which is out my door.”

“Yeah, I’m beat.”

“I won’t see you tomorrow unless court dismisses early,” I add as I step outside into the cold winter night.

“Good luck, babe.” He places a kiss on my cheek before we turn and go in opposite directions.

Caleb and I usually eat at The Dill Pickle, which is nothing more than a casual bar and grill located practically between our two apartments. Normally when it’s this cold outside, I’d take a cab back to my apartment, but right now, the crisp air feels good on my flush face, so I decide to make the almost five-block trek home. Half a block from my apartment, a man steps out of an alley. “Excuse me,” I mumble as I attempt to step around him.

“I need your help.” The older man, who definitely looks homeless based on how he’s dressed and smells, grabs my hand.

“I don’t have any money, sorry.”

“That’s not the kind of help I need.”

I pull my hand back with enough force that I almost fall to the ground, but somehow, I manage to stay upright. I take off down the block as fast as I can in five-inch heels. I push open the outer door to my building and rush up the stairs, bypassing the old elevator completely.

Without even thinking, I turn the knob on my door and it opens. “Holy shit,” I pant, attempting to catch my breath.

Morgan recognizes my panic and rushes to me. “What’s wrong?”

“You need to keep the fucking door locked, that’s what’s wrong. This is New York, psychos live everywhere.” I don’t know why, but I decide not to say anything about the man who just cornered me on the street.

“Okay. Sorry.”

Morgan watches me closely. “Are you okay? You seem spooked.”

“I am a little spooked about why you’re still living here. You said a few days.”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “I’m signing a lease tomorrow so you can chill your shit.”

Tomorrow. She’ll have her own place as early as tomorrow.

“Oh, and just a friendly heads-up, Mom called tonight. She asked if we’d come home this weekend. She’s planning a party for Jena.”

My stomach tightens for a totally different reason. “She really thinks I’d want to come?”

“Not only does she think you’d want to come, she’s expecting you to.” Morgan gives me a look of pity. I get along, for the most part, with my two oldest sisters, Lori and Morgan. Jena, who’s only eleven months older than me, is a totally different story.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it,” I lie. I have nothing going on, but thankfully, Morgan doesn’t call me out.

“I actually said the same thing. If I sign a lease tomorrow, then I’d really like to spend the weekend getting everything set up at my new place. Mom can pick another weekend, and hell, maybe even give us a little heads-up.”

“I agree. I’ll let you tell Mom that.”

Morgan stares at me in exasperation before she flips me off.

“Whatever. I’m going to bed. I’m convinced Ervin is trying to kill me with the amount of crazy shit he has me doing.”

“Goodnight,” I say, walking to my room. I drop down onto my lumpy old bed, wishing like hell I could rewind to last night and have one more do-over. I haven’t chased after—or hell, even lusted over—a man like this in years. Since before I started at NYU. And now, when I finally have the time to give to a relationship—if I wanted to give one a chance—it’s him I can’t stop thinking about. I groan before rubbing my hands down my face.

Jake Girard is exasperating. He turns me on and pushes my buttons at the same time, but he’s no good for me. Life has been easier just avoiding men altogether, but dodging a man like Jake is crucial. I can’t…no, I won’t go back to the person I once was, especially now. Which means I have to forget all about the football god and get on with my life.

I roll my eyes and place my phone back on my nightstand. I thought about deleting Jake’s number from my phone, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Instead, I programmed him as “Football God,” that way, when the urge to call him hits, I’ll have the reminder of who he really is: a rich, arrogant playboy who’s totally wrong for me.

Why does he care? He doesn’t…he’s just asking because…shit.

I lick my lips as desire starts to spread throughout my body. I just need to find a nice accountant or maybe even a lawyer—someone who understands the stress I’m under. Someone safe. Instead, I have Jake following me around, tempting me with his big, muscular body and animal-like sex skills. Shit, shit, shit.

I blow out a frustrated breath of air, already mentally kicking myself for not shutting him down. I just don’t understand…why me? I knew I was nothing more than a challenge the first time we slept together, and I stupidly believed the night before last would be the last time I saw him. Now he’s still in New York. He claims to still want me, and my body more than wants whatever he has to offer, but that nagging feeling starts to consume me—the self-doubt, the questioning my worth in his eyes.

I’ve never truly recovered from the last time I found out the answer to that question, and I’m not sure I’m any more equipped to handle the messy truth of why a man like Jake Girard seems to want me.

“Damn, Davis. It hasn’t been your week.”

I turn my icy glare on Blake Russell, the fucking prosecutor who always seems to be scheduled for court the same days I am. This is exactly the type of man I should drop my panties for, but Blake, while he doesn’t have the muscles or the money Jake has, is a pro at acting arrogant.

“Laugh it up now, Russell. You won’t find it too funny when one of my less than stable clients comes after you and your Pomeranian.”

Blake smirks before his eyes slowly move down to my chest. He checks me out every time I’m in court. If he had the power to light my body on fire like a certain someone, I’d put up with the jackass long enough to see if I could get past my hang ups.

“My eyes are up here, Russell.”

Blake gives me a wolfish smirk before his gaze meets mine. “Yeah, Davis, it’s hard to miss those blue eyes. Why do you think I keep asking you out?”

“Because you’re hoping to get laid?”

He laughs and takes a step closer. “With you? Hell, yes.”

Realizing I’m actually encouraging him, I take a step back. “Not going to happen. I suggest you look somewhere else.”

Blake leans closer, invading my personal bubble. “There isn’t anyone I’d rather watch all day than you. When you get riled up…damn.” He shakes his head with a grin, and his gaze peruses my body once more.

Great. Fucking great. Not only are my clients entertaining, but apparently, so am I.

I brush him off and start to pack up my files. “See you around, Russell.” I walk out of the courtroom feeling his eyes on me the entire time.

Before I leave the courthouse, I text Morgan to ask if she signed a lease. To my utter surprise, not only does she respond yes, but she gives me an address, which isn’t too far from here.

Instead of jumping on the train and heading home, I excitedly walk six blocks to the building where Morgan claims she’s rented an apartment.

“Holy hell,” I mumble as I step inside and take a look around. This place is worlds nicer than my building. With my feet already hurting, I take the elevator up five floors and knock on her door.

“I wasn’t lying,” she greets when she sees me.

“How much are you paying in rent each month?” I push past Morgan, only to find a practically empty living room.

“The Ervin Kelly line is really taking off. Ervin is paying me a nice salary, but I only get paid monthly. With deposits and shit, I needed a little more time than I originally thought.”

I run my hand over her granite countertop, reminding myself not to act like a jealous bitch. Morgan is almost thirty-two, and out of the four of us, her education was the shortest, and therefore, considerably less expensive. She’s had her student loans paid off for quite some time.

“This is nice, Morgan. I’m happy for you. I’m actually glad you didn’t settle.”

“I know you’re a loner and all, but if you want to get past that, you can move in with me.”

My breathing picks up. I’m a bitch plain and simple. I’ve done nothing but complain about Morgan being up in my space, when truth be told, she hasn’t done anything I can really complain about. And now, given the opportunity, she’s offered me the chance to stay with her. Sometimes…I forget that family isn’t all that bad.

“Thanks, Mo. I really appreciate the offer, but I actually like my place.”

Morgan’s face softens. “Oh shit, you’re going to make me cry.”

I tilt my head in question.

“You cared enough to lie. That’s so sweet.”

“Geez, my apartment isn’t that bad.”

“Honey, it’s not that great, either.”

This time, I flip her off. “Whatever, whore. I need to get home.”

“Oh, before I forget. A package came for you today. I signed for it and left it on your kitchen table.”

“Thanks.”

My mind races with ideas of who would’ve sent me something while I make the bitter-cold walk to the subway.

The only conclusion I can come up with is it has to be Jake. He’s already shown me what he can do with his body, so I guess now’s the time he tries to impress me with his credit card. A twinge of disappointment I know I shouldn’t feel starts to consume my thoughts. I somehow landed on his radar, and even if it made me feel like a whore, I was okay with Jake using my body for his own pleasure, especially when he looks after my physical needs. But outside of him buying dinner or paying for a hotel room, I don’t want him spending money on me.

I decide I should wait until I get home to send him a big fuck-you text. I should at least know what insulting gift he’s given me before I chew his ass out. However, when I round the corner of my hallway, I find none other than Jake himself sitting next to my door.

“What the hell?” I mumble as he pushes himself off the floor.

“God, I was hoping you’d be home soon. My ass actually feels broken from sitting on that crappy hard floor.”

“Who the fuck told you to come here and wait on me?”

Instead of acknowledging my attitude, Jake grabs my file bag out of my arms, almost reminding me he’s actually a nice guy.

I have to force myself to act like a brat and huff while I unlock my door. Once I push it open, I glance over my shoulder. “We need to talk about you sending me fucking gifts, too.”

Jake’s eyes widen in surprise before the small box on the table draws my attention.

“I’m serious. I don’t want your money. If you’re looking for your own personal Barbie to hold down the dream house while you run off and play football, then you’ve got the wrong fucking woman.”

“Lacey.” His voice almost sounds strained. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t send you anything, but I’m pleased as fuck to hear you’re not looking for some cookie cutter relationship out of me, because that’s not who I am.” Jake takes a large step toward me. “That’s not who I am anymore. That life you just described, it’s not one I would ever want.”

I’m surprised by his confession of not wanting a wife. He seems like the type to strive for the fairytale ending. Maybe I’ve read Jake wrong from day one because he strikes me as someone who’d love to show off the fancy, underdressed, overdone woman hanging off his arm.

“Good.” It’s all I can muster as I walk over to the package Morgan left on the table. There’s no return address. I frown and grab a knife to unseal the edges. Once the box pops open I reach inside and pick up the small piece of paper. Once I have it close to my face, my eyes start to water.

“Lacey? What’s wrong?”

I shove the picture back into the box and take off to my room before Jake Girard has the chance to discover a past I don’t ever plan to talk about.