I pay for my purchases before walking the couple of blocks to my apartment building. Tonight, I’m going to ask Ashley to come with me to Boston. If she says yes, then I’m going to ask her to come with me as my wife—make an honest man out of me and whatnot.

In my opinion, it’s a win-win. She can bring Bluebelle and every design she has with her while I play for my dream team. Hell, Gunner will be down with this, too.

Larry, my doorman for the last five years, touches his cap. “Ms. Mitchell beat you home, sir.”

Damn it. I hand the flowers to Larry. “Thanks. Please take these to your wife and say they’re from you.”

“She’d like it better if I said they were from you,” Larry says with a big grin.

I clap him on the shoulder. “Whatever makes her happy.”

Double-checking to make sure the engagement ring I had made for Ashley is securely in my pocket, I set off in the direction of the elevators and take the first available one to my floor.

Victory, like the first time I won the Super Bowl, flows through me. I’m assured a victory tonight. There’s no way I can lose.

As soon as I explain all the reasons she should come to Boston with me, I’ll tell her that I’m in love with her and then ask her to marry me.

It’s foolproof.

The doors open and I step inside my apartment, but the lovely, happy woman I’m used to seeing stands there with determination in her eyes.

“I don’t want to date you anymore,” she says.

“Me either,” I reply, and her blue eyes widen.

“Good. I’ve had a really nice time getting to know you, but... but it’s over.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“You knew from the start that I don’t date football players, but I made an exception for you and now it’s over.”

Gunner wanders in, then sits beside her. Automatically, she strokes his head.

“I realize that, and know how hard it was for you,” I say, choosing my words with care.

She nods, biting her bottom lip. There are tears in her eyes. I have no idea why... unless she’s already heard about Boston. “I hope you can understand why I can no longer see you. Being with you was—is—more than I can handle right now.”

“No, I can’t understand. I don’t understand a damn thing,” I growl, losing my composure. “Did someone tell you about the Patriots’ offer?”

“Is it true?”

“Yes, it’s true. The Patriots are my dream.” And so is she. All I have to do is recite the stupid speech I prepared. I reach into my pocket, but she brushes past me before I know what‘s happening.

I turn, reaching for her, but Gunner thinks it’s a game and gets all tangled up in my legs. I have to grab the nearest piece of furniture to keep from falling on my ass.

“Don’t call or text me. I told you I don’t date football players and you—you reminded me why I should never break my own rule.” The doors to the elevator doors close, but not before I see the tears running down her splotchy face. “I can’t be second to a career again. I just can’t.”

“What the hell just happened?” I ask Gunner.

I call is Ashley, but my call goes directly to voicemail. The second is to her brother, Rhett, to let him know what happened so maybe he can intervene in some way.

“What did you do to her?” Rhett practically bellows into the phone.

“I have no idea. I had the flowers, the ring, and the speech.”

“And?”

“The flowers went to Mrs. Larry, the ring stayed in my pocket, and I completely blanked on the speech,” I admit.

“That’s your problem, right there,” her younger brother says. “You gave our sister’s flowers to another woman.”

“Hey, Will,” I intone.

“What’s up, buddy? Rhett’s got you on speaker,” he says pleasantly. “Ready for us to kick your ass?”

I’d like to see them try. “I’d rather look my best when I ask your sister to marry me.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you, since our parents will take lots of pictures,” Will replies glibly.

“Still doesn’t get you out of an ass kicking,” Rhett points out.

I exhale. “Look, I just wanted to give you a head’s up. Maybe see if you can find out what went wrong. She was waiting for me, and she knew about Boston.” Oh, hell. “Did either one of you tell her? Or anyone else you can think of?”

“No,” Rhett says.

Silence from Will.

“Who did you tell, Will?” I press.

“No one important.”

“Oh, shit. You did not tell that asshole after I kicked him out,” Rhett shouts.

“Of course not.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I told him before you kicked him out.”

“Dammit, Will,” I bite out. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

“I wanted to rub it into Dean’s face,” Will says, his voice all apologetic. “He’s always been this cocky son of a bitch and he dumped my sister, so it felt damn good to let him know you’re dating Ash. And that you’re serious about her, too. I had no idea about the trade. He said he was in town visiting his parents and thought he’d stop by—that was it. I didn’t know. Honestly.”

“Next time, if you think about saying it, don’t,” Rhett says.

Fuck. I drop my head into my palm. “That explains it.”

“Sorry, man,” Will says. “I swear I’ll make it up to y’all.”

“Don’t worry about. I’ll go talk to Ashley.” I end our call, then start for the parking garage.

“Turner.”

I blink at the blond-haired man with a grimace on his bloodied face as he limps toward me. “What the hell happened to you, Clark?”

“Crazy ex-girlfriend.” He smirks and I want to punch him, but it looks like someone has done enough damage. That someone, I suspect, is Ashley.

“She wanted to get back together, once she learned I was back in town, but...” Dean shrugs, then winces a little, “I turned her down. Word to the wise, bro... stay away from redheads named Ashley. They’re crazy as fuck.”

“Thanks for the advice.” I nod and start to walk by him without responding to his asinine taunting.

Fuck that. Guys like Dean are notorious for getting the last word, especially with sweet, forgiving women like Ashley.

“Hey Dean,” I call out, and the guy turns around. “Actually, I got something to say about your advice.”

Dean takes one look at my face before going pale. “Shit. Not again.”