WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT BOXING champ Jack Dempsey once said, the best defense is a good offense. Obviously, Jack Dempsey never had to face Layton Price at the breakfast table... or my ma when she’s got it in her head that the man in her life is stepping out on her.

“I can’t come up there right now. I gotta play—”

“Your game isn’t until tomorrow.” She sniffs. “Swear to God, if I were in the hospital, you’d let me die alone just so you could win the playoffs.”

God save me from dramatic women.

I love my ma, really I do, and I would move the earth for her, but her timing is always bad. Just as I was getting through to Layton, making her feel better about herself, and hopefully stopping her from seeing me as the answer to her rebound problem, my ma blows up my phone.

“You know I wouldn’t.” I grip the steering wheel tighter, thankful I already dropped Layton off at her brother’s place. “Try talking to Dom. He’s a good guy.”

“You didn’t see the way he cut a roast for Debbie.”

Dominic Marchetti owns a butcher shop. He and my ma met over veal cutlets. She thought he was charging too much. He agreed with her, just so she’d go out with him.

He’s not married, doesn’t raise a hand to her, and thinks she’s an angel. Treats her like she’s a motherfucking queen.

In my book, that makes him a good dude, but my ma’s judgment is skewed because of my old man’s penchant for cheating. She finally kicked him to the curb about ten years back. Five years ago, he died in his sleep of a heart attack. The fact he took a bullet in the head and heart, courtesy of his latest girlfriend’s husband, didn’t make it any less true.

“Maybe it was good customer service.”

“Yeah, and maybe I’ll get invited to tea with the queen of England.” She sighs thickly. “Aiden, you have to say something to him, or I’m afraid I’ll blow this. I can’t blow this. He’s my ticket to happiness.”

My heart, that stupid muscle I try hard as hell not to let rule my life, cracks a little. “Sure. I’ll call him and say something, but you gotta dial down the crazy to at least a four. Men can handle a four.”

She laughs, making me smile. “Thanks, baby. I knew I could count on you.”

“Forever and always.”

After I end our call, I drive to Kingston’s office, where I know for a fact he’s working for the next four hours at least. He’s one of those work hard, play harder type of guys. Back home, we’d all bust his chops for being a yuppie.

Kingston’s good people, though. He doesn’t cheat me, gets the best deals for me, and no matter what kind of shit hits the fan, he stands by me.

When I walk inside his office, he’s hammering away at his keyboard; his face is in crush-the-competition mode. Hell yes, my boy is giving those advertisers hell on their terms and asking for more.

“Have they caved to your demands yet?” I ask, sitting in the chair across from him and propping my feet up on his desk. “Tell ‘em I want twice what was offered.”

Kingston side-eyes me, reminding me a little of his sister. I shouldn’t be surprised; they both have dark hair, dark eyes, and when they set their mind to something, they won’t let go of it until they’re made to, or decide there are better things to achieve.

Apparently, I’m the next achievement level for Layton.

“Give me five seconds to finish this email, then we can talk.”

Okay, so Kingston’s not working on my shit. He does have other clients he has to take care of, so I’ll give him a pass. While he’s finishing up, I go against my better judgment and hop on Instagram to check my feed. I have a guy who manages it for me, but there are times I like to do personal posts.

Big mistake.

As soon as I start reading comments, it’s almost identical to that time I was on Kimmel, reading mean tweets about myself.

“Done,” Kingston announces, none too soon, because my fingers are hovering over my keyboard, read to blast the asshole who said my mom should’ve swallowed. “You still plan on staying with me after the move, right?”

“Yeah.” Reluctantly, I put my phone away. “How you doin’?”

Kingston’s eyes narrow. “What have you done?”

“Not a damn thing.” I take my feet off his desk. “But your sister has.”

“She’s out of bed, at least, and going to job interviews. Thanks for that.”

Would he thank me if he knew his kid sister had show up at my place with her tits on display? “She wants to make me dinner tonight.”

Kingston’s face doesn’t change. “And?”

“Shouldn’t you tell me to stay the hell away from her?”

“Not if it’s only dinner,” he points out, and my fucking ears start to burn at the tips. “Oh, shit. She’s gunning for you, huh?”

“I don’t want to get into specifics, but, uh, she thinks I’m the one to help her get over Joe.” I sit up and lean forward. “If you wanna go ahead and clobber me in the jaw, I’ll let you do it... once.”

Kingston gives me an odd look. “Why the fuck would I want to do that? You have a game to play, and a concussion will bench you.”

Of course the cocky fucker thinks he’d hurt me that bad. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Have you slept with her?” he asks, point blank.

This is not the conversation I want to have with Kingston, much less a guy I do business with. “Fuck no.”

“Good.” He looks me up and down. “She could do worse.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Seriously, though. I’m not worried about the two of you.” He’s so casual about it that while I do believe him, there has to be something he knows that I don’t. And I don’t like being in the dark.

“Just like that...” I snap my fingers. “You’re okay with us?”

“Damn straight I am.” He smiles. “Layton picked the one guy who can’t sleep with her for at least the next month because he’s too damn superstitious it will mess up his game. She’s not going to wait around that long if her goal is to get over Joe as quickly as possible, so I don’t have to kick your ass for touching her.”

“Try it, pretty boy.” But he’s right. Layton’s goal is to get over Joe by getting under me. I rub the back of my neck. “Dinner is going to suuuuuck.”

“This is priceless.” His smile turns into a full-on belly laugh. “What more could I ask for?”

Kingston might not know what else he could ask for, but I sure as hell know what I’ll be getting.

Fucking blue balls.

***

I ARRIVE AT THE RENEGADES stadium ten minutes before the players meeting. Since tomorrow is a home game, I feel like I have time to breathe and get my head on straight before we kick the Falcons’ collective asses.

As usual, Coach doesn’t have much to address because he’s damn good at his job, and he makes sure everyone else is on board before shit can go down. It’s one of the reasons why I’ve stayed with the Renegades for so long.

Their system fits me.

Their schedule suits me.

Our wins make me money.

The perfect trifecta of stability for a poor kid who lived hand to mouth growing up.

“You find a date to come to my place for dinner or what?” Dallas asks as we head to the field to go over plays.

“I have plans.” I could tell him they’re with Layton, but he’ll know soon enough since she and Paige are like one brain most of the time. “By the way, don’t ever send me a present like that again.”

Dallas grins. “Is it because you couldn’t play with your present?”

“Dude, I can’t even open my present.” Fuck. I’m done with talking about Layton like she’s an object. “How about you do your job and block for me? Or if I throw you a pass, score.”

“If you will, I will,” he says smartly. “Who are your plans with tonight?”

“None ya.”

“Who’s she?”

I flip him off. “If you must know... Layton’s making me dinner.”

A wide smile splits his face in two. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“Do you ever think about anything other than pussy?”

He rubs his chin. “Winning?”

“You’re fucking hopeless.”

“And you need to get fucked out of your perpetual grumpy ass mood.”

I jog away, determined to put Layton, Dallas, my ma, and my ma’s boyfriend out of my mind.