––––––––

I repeatedly do burnouts, like a man on a mission. My mission—to work off the amped-up sexual frustration I am currently experiencing until my arms and legs can’t support my weight.

Last night with Ashley was totally worth putting my needs and wants second to hers. She felt so damn good lying in my arms, and it felt so right while we talked about our families.

When I finally made myself leave, she gave me the sweetest good night kiss I’ve ever had, almost as if she couldn’t believe what happened between us, or the fact I didn’t expect anything in return.

I have a feeling she isn’t used to that. She can’t be used to that with Dean Clark as her ex.

The selfish bastard.

Then again, I’m not used to a woman like Ashley. Hell, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing with her. Sure, I’m attracted to her. And I enjoy spending time with her. I know she could be the one for me... but beyond that, I haven’t allowed myself to think that far ahead.

Ashley, even without her asshole of an ex, strikes me as the type of woman who wants more than just a couple of dates. Well, more than a couple of dates with a football player.

My arms give out, and the weights crash to the floor.

“What did the weights do to you, man?” Dallas asks.

“Nothing. Just got a lot on my mind.”

“I heard you were thinking about leaving.”

Damn locker room gossips. “You did? Huh. Maybe you can tell me what I’m thinking right now.”

“That it’s a pretty sweet deal to be a free agent.”

As a free agent, I can keep playing for the Renegades while considering other contracts. The Patriots have been courting me. Hard. “There are pros and cons to it. You thinking about joining the dark side?”

“Maybe.”

That’s Dallas. Always poking his nose into everything while keeping his cards close to the vest.

“Let me know if you want to talk sometime.”

Dallas nods before resuming doing crunches. “Later, Turner.”

“Later.” I make my way to the shower room, passing a few reporters on the way.

“Heard there’s a new woman you’ve been seeing,” one calls out to me.

“Considering women make up fifty-one percent of the population, the odds are in both our favors that happened.”

The reporters laugh, and I flash them my signature smile so they can get a photo or two.

Usually, my humor keeps them happy. I give just enough so they can spin it, but not enough to have substance. Despite the popularity of the franchise in the city, the Carolina Panthers get more coverage, but nothing gets local papers going like a political scandal.

Nothing gets me going like thinking about that firecracker of a redhead I had in my arms last night. I have to hear her voice. I have to see her again and convince her that we need more than two dates.

After I shower and change, I head out to my truck and wait until I’m on 540 before I call her.

“Hey, what’s up?” Her sweet voice sounds a little out of breath.

“Is this a good time?”

“Not really.”

“You sound winded.”

“I’m just out of breath from chasing Bluebelle all over the yard,” she says.

I smile. “What did she do?”

“That dog... what didn’t she do?” Ashley blows out a breath. “She dug up my flowers beds. Tore the cushions off my patio furniture, and chewed up my clothes not worth mentioning.”

“Not worth mentioning?” I ask, trying to figure out what she means.

“You know... unmentionables.”

“Then why did you mention it?”

“Oh my gosh. Panties, Ryan. The dang dog went into my dirty laundry, and she chewed up five pairs of panties.”

I can’t stop myself from laughing. “That’s damn funny.”

“Only because she didn’t eat your panties.”

“Honey, if she’d been eating my panties, we would be having a whole other conversation right now.”

Ashley huffs. “Fine. If Gunner had eaten your man panties, you’d be pissed.”

“I don’t wear man panties, either.”

“You know what I mean, Ryan Shea Turner,” she growls into the phone.

Yeah, I do, but I can’t resist teasing her a little more, especially since she’s going all Southern on me. Only my momma calls me by my full name, and that’s only when she’s pissed.

“I don’t wear anything at all under my jeans, sweetness.”

She whimpers. Before I can check to see if she’s truly upset at my making light of the destruction Bluebelle caused, my dick gets hard. So much for working out my sexual frustrations.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I say.

“I know you’re trying to be funny and sexy, but it’s my turn to host book club. Today. Like in four hours. I need to impress these women, because I recommended a romance novel instead of literary fiction about a woman getting cheated on then learning to cook vegan dishes or something in order to find her chi. They kinda turned up their noses at it. Everything needs to be perfect, but now it’s not, and I can’t get ahold of my brothers.” She sounds on the verge of tears. Frustrated tears.

Damn it.

“What about your dad?” I can go help her, but she hasn’t asked for my help. She has her pride, just like I do.

“He’s on a cruise with my momma. My brothers are at work, so I can’t bother them either.” She sighs thickly. “I need to let you go. I have so much to do, and no one to help me.”

There’s my opening. Just as I open my mouth to say I’ll be right over to help, she hangs up on me.

“Shit,” I mutter.