There’s nothing better than the first sip of an ice-cold brew after a ball busting workout and with the ass kicking I just suffered at the hands of my trainer, I need all the help I can get.

“Dude, what was up with Jimmy today? He was all over everyone, even you and you’re marrying into the family,” I ask my buddy Noah, who’s engaged to Jimmy’s youngest daughter Reagan. He’s one of my best friends and a fellow fighter who won a national title eight months ago making him somewhat of a celebrity now. It’s surreal to see random people walk up to him and ask for autographs or pictures with him.

“I’m not sure. Reagan mentioned something about her sister going through a tough time. Her ex-boyfriend is giving her problems. I don’t know the details, but I know Jimmy threatened to kick his ass and I volunteered to help.”

My ears perk up at the mention of Reagan’s sister. “Which sister?” I ask. I’ve only met one of them, although we weren’t formally introduced.

“It’s Kennedy, the oldest sister.”

Nodding my head, I breathe a sigh of relief that it’s not Carter. I’d hate to think of anyone giving her a hard time and if I found out they were I’d feel obligated to do something about it. While the two of us were never formally introduced, we shared the hottest kiss of my life. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I haven’t thought about the minutes we spent together. God knows I’ve tried to forget. I don’t want to be hung up on some girl who wouldn’t even give me her name. Not to mention that she’s my trainer’s daughter and he’d be a nightmare to deal with if he knew I was interested in her. He’s already tough on a normal day. If we were dating, he’d make my life hell every opportunity he got.

“Hey, are you coming to our party?” Noah asks, then takes a small sip of his Sam Adams draft.

“Yeah, I’ll be there man. I wouldn’t miss it. Free booze and food, that’s all me. Are any of Reagan’s friends coming?”

“Moira will be there,” he says, his lips hidden behind the glass of golden beer when he takes a sip.

“She’s hot, but she’s got crazy written all over her. She asked me if my sperm were strong swimmers when we met and mentioned something about me being a good substitute father for her future children.” I shake my head. “The girl’s whacked.”

Noah laughs. “She’s a little out there, but she’s good to Reagan and that’s all that matters.”

Lifting the bottle of Heineken to my lips, I swallow a gulp down. The cold brew hits the spot, quenching my thirst and helping me relax after my workout.

“How are you feeling about the upcoming fight?” I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Good so far. It’s still two months out, but I think I’m right on track.” He sips his beer and then places the glass back on the bar in front of him. His fingers drum on the wooden surface as he glances around. “What did you decide to do about football for the next school year? Are you going to play or not?”

“Good question. I’m still not sure. If I don’t play, I’ll lose my scholarship, which wouldn’t be the end of the world since it’s my final year.” It’s not like my parents can’t afford it. All they have to do is dip into the trust fund my grandfather set up for me. I don’t have access to the money until I’m twenty-five, but they can use it for my college tuition. “It would be worth losing it to have more training time at the gym.” I run a careless hand through my hair. “Brady and Zeke are both graduating,” I say, mentioning both of my roommates. They’re also two of my closest friends aside from Noah and Griffin, another guy we train with. “I think Owen Dawson; the backup quarterback will take over. He’ll be a sophomore in the fall. The kid has an arm that slings missiles. He’s unbelievably talented. He might even give Brady a run for his money, but don’t tell him I said that.”

“Isn’t Brady’s brother at B.U. now too?” Noah questions.

“Yep, Trevor’s a tight end. The kid’s a beast. The gene pool for athleticism in that family is fucking impressive.”

“Hi, Nick,” a pretty brunette sidles up next to me with a smile and a hand trailing over my shoulder. I can’t remember her name or where we’ve met.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Great. Things could get a lot more interesting now that I know you’re here.” She leans her tits into my arm.

“You’re going to have to remind me where we met. I’m drawing a blank.” Raising my bottle, I take a large sip.

“We met at Griff’s party a few months ago.” She smiles knowingly while I try to remember if she’s someone I fucked. I’m not a dog who gets his knob polished by a different girl every night, but there are a few girls I’ve been with in the past that I call when I need to take care of business. Lately, that hasn’t happened at all. I haven’t had sex since the night I met Carter, and I’m not sure why. I only know, there’s something special about her that makes it difficult to drive her out of my mind. The chemistry between us was hotter than anything I’ve ever experienced or imagined.

As I study the brunette some more, I remember exactly when I met her and I’m relieved nothing happened between us. “It’s nice seeing you, but my man here,” I gesture at Noah, “and I are in the middle of a conversation. I’m going to have to cut this short.” I soften my harsh words with a smile.

“Oh, okay.” She steps back with a look of surprise on her face. I guess she doesn’t usually get turned down. “If you change your mind, I’ll be over there.” She gestures to the back of the bar where a table of girls stare in our direction.

“Gotcha.” I wink and turn back to Noah.

He chuckles.

“What?” I question.

“My boy’s a heartbreaker.” He claps me on the back.

“I’m not.” I shake my head.

“Dude, you attract them like flies.”

“Most of the time they’re as annoying as them too.” I drink down the rest of my beer and signal the bartender for another. “You want a refill?”

“Nah, I’m gonna’ stick with just one and then hit the road. I promised Reagan I’d be home early.”

“Pussy whipped.” I cough out.

“The hell I am. I just wanna’ see my girl.” The bartender places the beer down in front of me, removing the empty.

“If I had a girl I loved, I’d probably be a pussy whipped bastard like you.” I laugh as he punches me. “Where are the cameras when I need them?” I grab my arm with a pained expression. “That punch could be worth a lot of money.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re worth more than I’ll ever be.”

I grimace at the reminder he knows about my family’s wealth. I don’t usually share that I have a trust fund with people, but the details spilled out one night with a bottle of Jim Beam between us and two shot glasses. Noah revealed how his father drank himself to death which is one of the reasons fighting is so important to him. I filled him in on how I’m not sure I want to play football anymore, but my father is pressuring me. He has big dreams of me playing in the NFL and it’s not an unattainable goal for me. I’m damn good at the game, but somewhere along the way, fighting has become my passion and I’m not willing to push that aside to please my father. This is my life, not his.