Present day . . .

Mason: Tell me if the dick pic asshole bothers you again.

I get the text in the middle of my shift at The End Zone and bite my lip as I reread it. I’ve been back in Blackhawk Valley for two days, and even though we didn’t spend more than a few hours together while I was in Seaside, I kind of miss Mason. No, I totally miss him, and this text proves exactly why.

I want to say I’ve never had a guy treat me like he does or care about me like he does, but that’s not true. I dated around after Nic went to prison and pushed me away. A lot of guys were kind and protective at first, but once they got what they wanted from me, they stopped. Not Mason. Mason has always treated me like I matter.

Me: He won’t. But even if he did, what could you do about it? I doubt leaving training camp to kick some loser’s ass is worth the fine they’d hit you with.

Mason: You underestimate how much I want to knock this guy out.

I consider myself a strong, independent woman. Maybe that’s why it means so much to me that he still tries. He never makes me feel weak in his attempts to stand up for me. He reminds me I’m not alone. I wouldn’t have understood the difference four years ago, but now that I do, it’s profound.

“You secretive bitch.”

My head snaps up from my phone at the sound of the familiar voice. There’s a beautiful woman wearing a Chicago Bears jersey standing in the middle of The End Zone. I want to jump out of my seat and hug her tighter than I ever have. After a year of living four hours from Mia, you’d think I’d be used to the time apart by now, but I’m not. She’s my best friend, and I miss her so much. Since I haven’t had the courage to call her since the news of my marriage broke, I was pretty sure I’d have to grovel to get her to forgive me. But here she is.

I may want to squeeze her, but I stay behind the bar and keep my distance, as if she’s a wounded animal. I intend to proceed with caution.

“You’re married,” she says, hands on hips. “You got married over two months ago, and it didn’t occur to you to tell your best friend?” She reaches across the bar and smacks me on the arm.

“Ow!” I rub the spot. “Violent much?”

“Sorry.” She frowns. “I didn’t mean to hit that hard.” She lifts her chin. “But maybe you deserve it. Married?” Then she runs around the bar and squeezes me so tightly that I squeak. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Don’t be,” I whisper. I look over her shoulder to make sure no one is eavesdropping. The End Zone might not be best place for us to have this conversation.

Releasing me, she backs up so she can see my face. “Why not? You married an awesome guy you’ve cared about for years. Why can’t I be happy?”

I drop my gaze to the bar and grab a rag to rub at an imaginary spot. “It’s temporary, Mee. We did it while we were drunk in Vegas, and we were trying to keep it quiet so we didn’t detract from your wedding. We were going to take care of it, but now Mason needs a wife for a while.” I shrug. “It’s not permanent.”

“But it could be.”

I shake my head. Bless her heart, the little optimist can’t help herself. “No, it couldn’t. Anyway, Mason is only trying to disentangle his career from a potential relationship with the team owner’s daughter. He thinks our accidental marriage might put the matter to rest.”

“Wow.” Mia’s shoulders sag. “That’s disappointing.”

I cock my head. “It would be disappointing if I could be his wife, but you and I both know I can’t. So, it just is what it is.”

Now she’s the one to look around to make sure we have relative privacy, but other than a couple of nearly senile professors chatting about Tolstoy in the corner, the place is dead. “Are you trying to tell me he still doesn’t know about the deal you made with his father?”

In a moment of weakness a couple of years ago, I told Mia why I couldn’t be with Mason. On the one hand, it felt amazing to finally have someone to confide in. On the other hand, she’s been insistent ever since that I should confess the truth to him, and that’s not an option. “You know I can’t tell him. Even if I thought he could forgive me for taking that money—and I don’t think he would—it wouldn’t change how his family feels about me.” I shake my head. Mia might know I took money from Christian Dahl, but she doesn’t know why I’m afraid of him. How could she understand when she doesn’t know I have other secrets? The only person who knows all my secrets is Mason’s father, and that’s because he had a vested interest in unearthing them. “I’ll figure it out.”

She squeezes my hand. “Don’t shut me out just because you’re ashamed of the choices you made. I’m your best friend. I get to know all your dirt. It’s the rule.”

My chest stings with guilt. “I’m moving down there after training camp and spending a few months pretending to be his adoring wife. After that, I’ll come home and get back to running The End Zone like nothing ever changed.”

She grimaces. “Arrow said they got an offer on the bar, and Keegan wants to take it.”

My stomach knots. I might be coming back to a new boss. Or no job at all. I can’t say that I’m disappointed about not owning the business—I’m not passionate about The End Zone like I am about my photography—but the insecurity of a new owner is unsettling.

Mia studies me. “If you’re still thinking about trying to buy this place, just tell them. They don’t want to screw you over.”

And make Keegan and Arrow stay tied to a business they don’t really have the time for? Just for me? Keegan bought this place before he was signed, thinking he had no chance at a football career, and Arrow signed on as a silent partner to help with the money, not with any intention of running it himself. Now they both live elsewhere, and I suspect they’ve only held on to it this long for me. That doesn’t seem fair. “I knew they were selling. It’s not a big deal.” I take a breath and change the subject. “How are you even in town? Aren’t you busy with your new marriage and new house and new amazing life?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You sound a little bitter.”

“I might be.” I sigh. “I’m glad you’re deliriously happy, but I miss my Mia.”

“Well, you have me tonight. We’re here to visit our fathers before Arrow has to run off to the Bears’ training camp.” She makes a face. “I hate training camp. I swear, they find the most miserable location and run them hard during the hottest month of the year. Is Mason settled in okay?”

I’ve been home for two days, and other than our brief exchange just now and answering Mason’s text when he asked if I made it home safely, we haven’t talked. I wrinkle my nose and load a rack of pint glasses. “I’m going to need some practice at this wife thing. I haven’t even asked.”

She shakes her head. “Arrow said the only time he ever thought about walking away was during training camp last year. It’s brutal.” She pivots toward the entrance and waves at someone. “Hey, Ron! Long time, no see!”

When I follow her gaze and see that the Ron in question is the same one who sent me a picture of his junk, I drop the glass in my hand, and it shatters on the floor.

Mia jumps then puts her hand on my arm. “I’ll go grab the broom.” She rushes back to the kitchen before I can stop her, leaving me alone and face to face with Dick Pic Man.

“Leave my bar before I call the cops,” I tell him.

His face flushes red, and his eyes dart away as he swallows. “I’m here to apologize, and then I’ll leave.”

I open my mouth to tell him to walk, not run, to the nearest exit, but then his words register, and I decide I deserve the apology he’s offering. “Make it quick.”

He wipes his sweaty forehead and shifts from one foot to the other. He stares at his feet while he talks. “I was drunk and pissed, and I never should have sent that. But I had no idea you were married. You should have told me.”

What a loser. “Your apology lost all credibility with the but. You can leave now.”

He lifts his gaze to mine for a moment before staring at his feet again. “You’ll tell your husband I said sorry?”

Did Mason contact him somehow and tell him to apologize? “Not if I have to look at your face in my bar again.”

He lifts his chin, but his nostrils flare, and I can tell he’s as pissed as he is embarrassed. “Understood.”

“And if I ever hear of you sending a woman an unsolicited dick pic again, I’ll fucking come after you myself.” I prop my fists on my hips. “I mean it when I say I could take you.”

He shakes his head. “You think you’re this independent woman now, but marrying the rich guy doesn’t make you any less bought and paid for.”

What a motherfucker. “Excuse me?”

“What did you just say?” Mia asks behind me, her voice the screech of an angry mama bird. She steps forward and stands by my side.

Ron holds up his hands, palms out. “Forget I said anything. Congratulations on your wedding. I promise you won’t see me again.” He turns around and heads out the door.

“What the hell?” Mia asks.

“He was a regular at the Pretty Kitty,” I say. “He saw me at the bank the other day, and when our reunion didn’t go as he’d hoped, he sent me a dick pic and a nasty message.”

“Ron? Seriously?” She sweeps up the shattered glass I’d all but forgotten about. “He always seemed so sweet. Didn’t hang with the best crowd, mind you, but he was the quiet one.”

I stare at the door even though Ron is long gone. “I think Mason may have contacted him and told him he had to apologize.”

She sweeps the shards into a dustpan. “Bet that scared the shit out of him. I’m pretty sure Ron would mess himself if Mason was in the same room as him now.”

Am I a hypocrite? I was just thinking how nice it was to have Mason on my side about this. But the idea of him contacting Ron without telling me makes me feel unsteady. I liked having the emotional support, but actually confronting Ron is completely different. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”

And what did he mean about me being bought and paid for?

The tinkling of glass shards into a paper bag pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn back to Mia. “How do you know Ron, anyway?”

“He was a buddy of Nic’s. I never knew him very well, but before tonight he seemed all right, aside from following that guy Clarence around all the time.”

My brain chooses that moment to lock a memory into place. I’d been remembering Ron in the context of the Pretty Kitty, when he’d come alone and sit by the stage for hours. I’d completely forgotten that he was one of Clarence’s goons.

Does Ron think I slept with Clarence to pay off the money Nic owed him? Who else in this town thinks that?

Training camp means meetings, practices, weightlifting, film, more meetings, more practice, and at the end of the night, we’re lucky to get an hour to relax in our rooms before falling into bed and passing out. This year, we’re at a small private college about an hour from the Gators’ facility in Destin, and I swear it’s fifteen degrees hotter here than it is by the ocean.

My body feels bruised and beaten, and I want to text Bailey some more and sleep. But when I climb the stairs and go into the dorm room I’ve been assigned, there’s a naked woman in my bed.

Given how few naked women have graced any bed of mine lately, I should probably be excited to see her. Objectively, she’s hot. She’s got that perfectly toned body, curves in all the right places—some God-given, some surgically enhanced. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders, and her swollen lips are pursed in anticipation. But instead of being turned on by the sight of this woman in my bed, I’m thinking I should check the stove for a boiled pet rabbit.

Glenn Close’s character in Fatal Attraction has nothing on Lindy McCombs.

“How’d you get in here, Lindy?” I ball my fists at my sides. After all the shit being thrown my way this week, I have no energy for Lindy’s games. “Why are you naked? And what the fuck made you think you were welcome in my bed?”

She crooks her finger at me and smiles. “Why so many questions? Aren’t there other things you should be doing with your mouth right now?”

That is just ballsy as fuck, and in this moment, the double standard pisses me off. If I showed up uninvited in a woman’s bed in my birthday suit and started implying she should stop speaking and start using her mouth on me, I’m pretty sure I’d spend the rest of my life on the sexual offenders list.

But no. When a chick does it, it isn’t crossing the line. It’s sexual confidence, and I’m not supposed to be disturbed or feel like my privacy’s been violated. I’m supposed to be turned on.

I’m not.

“Where are your clothes?” I look around the room, ready to grab them off the floor and toss them to her, but they’re nowhere to be found.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me, so I didn’t wear any.”

I set my jaw. “You did not walk up here naked.”

“Nope. I wore a trench coat.” She runs a hand down between her breasts and over her stomach, stopping only when her fingertips are resting at the apex between her thighs. “I think my driver knew I was naked underneath. I think he liked it.”

“Good. Why don’t you let him give you a ride home?”

Her eyes blaze, and I know I’m being a dick, but given that she’s naked in my fucking bed, I think it’s fair to say the “gentle rejection” approach isn’t working. Apparently, neither is the “I’m married, so back the fuck off” approach.

Lindy stares at me for a few long beats. Is she waiting for me to change my mind? Dream on, lady. Sighing heavily, she climbs out of my bed and stomps into the bathroom I share with the guy next door. She might have a few screws loose, but she’s not stupid, and she knows this night isn’t going to unfold the way she planned. When she emerges, she’s wrapped in a long trench coat, and though I hate her being so close, I’m just relieved she’s covered. “Why are you such a dick?”

I close my eyes and count to five before responding. “I’m married.” And you’re fucking crazy.

“You’re still punishing me for a decision I made when I was eighteen.”

My jaw clenches at the reminder. “This isn’t about that. I’m married. I’ve moved on. You need to move on too.”

“But in April . . .” She saunters toward me and lifts her hand to my jaw. “That night meant something. I felt it. You felt it.” She tries to smile, but it wavers. “You’re telling everyone you and Bailey have been dating since college, but if you really loved her, you wouldn’t have slept with me.”

“You’re mental,” I mutter. I want to say more. Fuck, I want to go off. But at the end of the day, Lindy has more power over my future with the Gators than I care to think about.

“She was a stripper, Mason. A stripper who comes from nothing and has everything to gain by marrying you and then hanging you out to dry.”

Damn my parents and their obsession with digging into all the people in my life. Damn them for telling Lindy everything. Four years ago, they found out I was dating Bailey and did enough research to conclude that she didn’t meet the high standards they’d set for their son. Then they shared that information with Lindy as evidence that she and I should still be together. Not that any of that mattered then. Bailey took it on herself to make sure our relationship never turned into something serious.

But it fucking matters now if that information is going to make Lindy think that I don’t take my marriage seriously or that she’s welcome in my bed.

“She’s not a stripper anymore,” I mutter, reaching for the door to hold it open for Lindy.

“Just know I’m here for you when she gets what she wants and walks away. Until then I’ll be your . . . what was it your dad always called Bailey?” She licks her lips. “Your fuck buddy?”

“Don’t.” The mental image of her and my dad laughing about my relationship with Bailey makes my stomach sour. Fuck both of them.

She smirks. “If you didn’t want to be with me, you wouldn’t have taken me home. It’s okay to swallow your pride and admit you want me back.”

“Don’t kid yourself. We’ve slept together once in the last five years. I’ve never come back to you. And I won’t.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she spins away. I wait until I hear the door to the stairwell slam before I allow myself to take a breath.

There are a few basic rules of personal conduct for NFL players who want long careers, and half start with the words “keep it in your pants.”

Sleeping with Lindy in an attempt to get over Bailey was like taking arsenic to cure a head cold. Obviously, I’m an idiot.