At eight o’clock sharp, I’m waiting outside on my stoop when Colton pulls up in a sports car, top down.

“You can’t be serious.” I stare at the car as Colton steps out and walks around to give me a kiss on the cheek.

He’s wearing black jeans and a blue flannel shirt that matches his eyes. His blond hair is damp, like he just showered, and his mouth is turned up in amusement.

“Of course I’m serious. We’re going to go to this party in style. It’s supposed to be a FUN party, right? That starts with your ride, babe.”

I laugh and climb into the car. Colton shuts the door behind me, and then heads for the driver’s side.

He slides into the seat and looks over at me. “You’re beautiful.”

I glance down at my blue mini-skirt and casual cream button-down top. My sandals are white with crisscross straps and a short heel. My hair falls in soft waves around my shoulders, and I’m wearing minimal makeup. I wanted to feel relaxed, and I tried to match that desire with casual clothes.

“Not just your outfit.” Colton touches my cheek. “All of you, Sky. You’re beautiful.”

I flush so hot I’m sure I must look like a tomato. “You have an odd fetish for red hair, I guess,” I say. “My hair’s never been that popular with men.”

“Obviously, those men were stupid.” Colton starts up the car. “And I’m the lucky one sitting here with you.”

---

The station rented out the entire Santa Monica Pier for our event, which should make it feel less crowded. But the company is large, and with so many family and friends showing up, we’re quite a group.

It’s a beautiful summer evening in southern California. The view from the pier makes me feel like I should pinch myself. The mountains behind the sea are one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. The light breeze from the ocean caresses my bare arms, and the sun hangs over the horizon, still not ready to drop.

Colton takes my hand in his as we wander down the pier. “Here we are, two northern kids, living in the city of perpetual sun.”

I smile. “I know. Honestly, sometimes it still feels like a dream.”

“For me, too.”

“Did you eat, Colt?”

He squeezes my hand. “Thanks for asking. I had a snack.”

“You must be starving.”

He leans over to kiss my temple. “I’m okay. But I could definitely eat.”

“Me, too. Let’s go find some food.”

Colton and I run into Ted and Angie at the taco bar. I rarely see Ted outside of a work suit, and Angie and I spend a minute teasing him for going casual.

“I’m wearing FUN-appropriate attire,” he says, smoothing down his black graphic tee with the caption “Don’t Stress Me Out” across the front. His loud red shorts come nearly to his knees, and his matching red sneakers prove why I never try to compete with any of my colleagues in the world of fashion.

“You two actually look like models,” I say as I point at Ted and then Angie. “Your sundress is gorgeous, Ang. I love the way the straps are twisted.”

“Thanks.” Angie fiddles with the pink straps of her dress. “But you look incredible, Skylar. I don’t know why you never think so.”

“She’s modest,” Ted says. He turns to Colton. “Why do you think Ms. Rosewood is so shy?”

Colton’s eye darken with heat. “I’m not sure. I’m still trying to figure her out.”

Without planning to, I reach for his arm. “You’re doing a good job,” I murmur, my words meant only for him.

While Colton fills a plate with tacos, and Ted tags along next to him, Angie whispers to me how her date stood her up.

“What an asshole,” I say too loudly, because Colton and Ted both look over from their conversation.

“Don’t worry boys—we’re not talking about either of you two,” Angie says. “My date for tonight called me five minutes before he was supposed to pick me up. He said he’s afraid of amusement parks, and he didn’t want to ruin my night of fun by standing on the sidelines.”

“That’s a pretty lame excuse,” Colton says with a frown.

“I know, right?” Angie’s shoulders slump. “I need a better pool of men. What about one of your teammates, Colton?”

“Oh, no,” I say. “A football player is not a good bet for a boyfriend.”

“Why not?” Colton hands me a taco wrapped neatly in a napkin.

I look at it. He made the taco exactly the way I like it: onions, guacamole, beans, and beef. No cheese, and no sour cream.

“You remembered?” I ask him incredulously.

He eyes me steadily. “You told me before.”

“Only once in passing. And it was so late; we were both nearly asleep on the phone.”

“I know. Your breathing changed, the way it does when you’re fighting to stay awake.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ted and Angie look at each other.

“Still think a football player’s a bad bet?” Colton’s tone is amused, but his point clearly made.

“Absolutely not.” Angie asserts herself into our conversation as she throws her arm around me. “Sky, you have got to introduce me to Colton’s teammates.”

“And me, too.” Ted wolfs down a huge bite of taco. “I want to meet a hot, muscled man who looks out for his date. Colton, I have to admit, I’ve had a bit of a crush on you since you saved Skylar’s life last month.”

“He didn’t save my life,” I protest.

“He did,” Ted says stubbornly, and returns his attention to Colton. “But I can’t have a thing for my favorite coworker’s man. So I’m ending the crush on you tonight. Sorry.” He extends his hand, and Colton shakes it.

“One of my teammates is having a small party on Thursday night,” Colton says. “You’re welcome to come. Just you three,” he adds, his firm expression making it clear that he’s serious. “I can’t have you telling the rest of your coworkers. My guys are private.”

Angie and Ted both squeal like Colton asked them to fly to the moon with him on his own space shuttle. I wrap my arms around myself as Colton leans over to whisper in my ear, “What do you say, Sparky? Saturday night. Is it a date?”

When he speaks to me, it’s like the rest of the world disappears. Not forever, but just long enough that I always take the leap.

“Yes.” I snuggle into his side and he puts his arm around my shoulders. “It’s a date.”

---

A couple of my colleagues approach Colton for selfies, and Ted immediately jumps in to play bodyguard.

“Mr. Wild is here to have FUN, just like you are,” he says to anyone who asks. “Let him enjoy his night.”

Colton politely takes the selfies anyway, and signs autographs for the small crowd of people forming around us. Eventually, Glenn comes over with the CEO of the station, and the two of them tell everyone to treat Colton like they would anyone who’s coming to the station for an interview: in other words, no approaching him like a fan.

“Let him have his night, too, just like you all are,” Glenn says.

As Glenn, Colton, and Ted chat about the Cougars’ upcoming season, Angie pulls me aside.

“You and Colton are hot together,” she says.

“We’re not officially toge…” I trail off. “You know, we’re just hanging out.”

“Looks like more than hanging out to me.” She flips her blond hair over a shoulder. “And I would like to say that I fully approve, Ms. Rosewood.”

I laugh, and she does, too. “Thanks. I’m glad you like him.”

“I like you both,” she says. “I like you together.”

I like us together, too. Too much to run away.

“I need to take my time with this,” I confess to Angie. “I’m not used to relationships.”

“God, me either,” she says. “But if I found a man who looked at me the way Colton Wild looks at you? I wouldn’t let him go.”

---

Once we finish eating, the four of us walk to the games area, where Colton begs me to join him in a basketball shooting contest.

“I told you, I’m not into sports. Remember?”

“And I told you, it turns me on to play against you.” He says the words slowly and into my ear, so Ted and Angie can’t overhear.

My hand goes to his chest and I bite down on my lip.

“What do you say?” Colton’s voice is vibrating against my earlobe, and it’s making me crazy. “One game? Winner takes all.”

“Only with you,” I say softly.

Colton bends his head to hear me. “Only me—what?”

I turn to look into his clear blue eyes. “I will only play sports with you.”

His nose touches mine. “See, that just turns me on more.”

We’re so busy smiling at each other that we both jump when the attendant calls to us. “Hey, you two ready?”

Ted and Angie insist they’re going to stick around to watch.

Having an audience for this contest makes me even more uncomfortable, and I tell Colton to shoot first.

“You can show me how to do it,” I say. “I literally suck at basketball.”

“Stop talking dirty to me,” he mutters as he picks up the first ball. “You’re going to destroy my concentration.”

“I thought that was the point,” I say from his side. “To turn you on.”

He grins, and proceeds to shoot his three balls directly through the hoop.

Ted and Angie yell and cheer, and the attendant shows Colton what prizes he can choose from.

“Yeah, you seemed really distracted just then,” I say. “This is why I don’t like competing against you athletically. It’s not a fair fight.”

“I always fight fair,” he murmurs as his lips ghost mine. “If I win, everything I get is yours.”

I glance over at the wall of stuffed animals waiting for their new homes. My eyes land on the fuzzy black bear with the word “Wild” printed in red letters across its chest.

Colton’s gaze follows my pointing finger, and he laughs. “You want that one?”

“Yes.” I pick up a basketball. “So let’s get my part over with. Believe me, it won’t take long.”

But Colton won’t let me release my first shot until he’s instructed me on the proper shooting technique.

“You’re not showing me anything my brothers didn’t try to drill into me as a kid,” I tell him. “It’s like the words just go in one ear and out the other.”

“How come?” he asks me, his expression genuinely curious.

I fidget under his gaze. “How come what?”

“How come you say you never pay attention when the subject is sports? It doesn’t sound like you. As a journalist, I imagine you have to be quite detail-oriented, about a variety of topics.”

We stare at each other, Colton’s crystal blue eyes so focused on me that I nearly drop the basketball.

I’m saved from having to answer him when the attendant calls for me to take my turn.

Forgetting everything Colton just showed me about proper shooting, I heave the ball into the air, narrowly missing the attendant’s head, but wildly missing the basket.

“Hey.” Colton’s voice is low and gentle in my ear. “Slow down this time. Let me help you through this, Sky.”

“Through this?” I whip my head to face him. My cheeks are blazing with heat, and I’m barely conscious of Ted and Angie witnessing my freak out. “It’s not a big deal, Colt. Just let me lose so we can move on.”

“No.” Colton says the word so decisively I narrow my eyes on him.

“No?” I’m aware that my voice is shaking, and I do my best to keep it steady. “I’m fine, Colt. Watch.”

Before he can stop me, I turn and take my second shot. I’m more careful this time, and the ball doesn’t miss as badly. It still doesn’t even hit the rim, though.

Colton catches my wrist in his hand. He’s barely touching me, and there isn’t even a hint of force in his hold. But I jerk my arm back like he just tried to hold me still.

“Sky.” He’s talking so softly even I can hardly hear him. “Slow down, honey. I’ll go over the technique with you again.”

“Why?” I resist the urge to shove the basketball into his hands. “This isn’t even your sport! You’re a football player, and I’m a journalist. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“Skylar.” Colton’s arm goes around me, and he turns his body so that he’s effectively blocking me from view of anyone else. “You look like you’re going to spit nails at me right about now. Now normally, that would turn me on. Except…”

Oh, no. I try to avert my gaze, but he dips his head so he can keep the eye contact.

“Except,” he continues, “I get the sense you’re trying not to cry, and that’s why you’re acting so pissed off.”

As if on cue, a lone tear makes its way to the corner of my eye. I wipe it away quickly, but not fast enough.

Colton calls over his shoulder to Ted and Angie that we’ll be right back. Putting his hand on the small of my back, he guides me around the corner to an empty bench.

We take seats next to one another, Colton’s arm firmly around me, and I let out a deep breath of air.

“I’m so sorry,” I begin. “I’ll have you know that I don’t normally break down over a kids’ game.”

“Something tells me this sports thing goes back to when you were a kid.” He rubs his hand in small circles over my back.

I smooth down my skirt, focusing on the fabric rather than Colton’s face. “I used to watch sports with my father. I don’t want to get into all the details right now, but the quick version is that he would hit me when his team wasn’t doing well.”

Colton’s sharp inhale is the only way I know he heard me.

“Or when he disagreed with the refs’ call.”

Now his hand stills on my back.

“Or when I fidgeted too much and he wanted me to be quiet.”

“Skylar.” Colton’s voice is hoarse, like he can barely get my name out.

“He drank more when he watched sports, which always made him worse. So I learned to associate the world of athletics with abuse. It’s stupid. It makes no sense logically.” I look up at him now, and his eyes are on me like lasers.

“Come here.” He urges me closer, and I sink into him.

His heart is beating against my ear, and he smells so good. I clutch at his shirt with my fists, as he strokes my hair.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have been so cavalier about it. I just hate seeing you suffer.”

I lift my head so I can look at him. “It’s my thing—it’s where I’ve stuck myself. But I’m trying to move through it, and I know it’s important to you that I do that. Because if we’re going to have any kind of relationship, friends or otherwise, the fact is that you’re a professional athlete. And I want to be able to cheer you on, and be there for you.”

When I realize what just came out of my mouth, I freeze. Even though I threw in the “friends” card to give me an out, what I said was a commitment-type of statement, the kind of thing you’d only say to someone you wanted to keep in your life for the long haul.

An emotion crosses Colton’s face, but it’s gone so quickly that I can’t read it.

“Please don’t work through this for me, or anyone else,” he says. “Only for yourself. Okay? I won’t shatter if you don’t become a football fanatic. I also won’t stop wanting you. Honestly, I like the fact that my profession has nothing to do with why you’re hanging out with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had that.”

“Everyone you’ve dated has come through football?” A quick stab of jealousy comes over me at the thought of Colton and other women.

“I meet most people that way, but I haven’t done a lot of serious dating,” he says, and my heart sinks.

“So you’ve mainly fucked,” I say, knowing how crass it sounds but unable to keep the words in. “Shit. Sorry.”

But a deep laugh bursts out of Colton’s mouth. “Like I said last month, I like the dirty mouth, Skylar. Don’t shy away from that part of you on my account.”

I give him a playful swat on the arm. “Finish what you were saying. You haven’t had any serious relationships?”

He lifts one shoulder casually. “Nope. And to be perfectly frank, other than with you, I’ve never wanted to.”

I stare at him, my jaw hanging open.

Colton’s dimple makes an appearance as he stares back at me. “The last thing I want to do is freak you out, and send you running again. And God knows I haven’t been a saint. Yes, I’ve been with women—enough of them to know I’ve never felt a connection with anyone the way I feel it with you.”

“But we’ve never even…” I bite down hard on my lip, willing my mouth to shut up.

“Fucked?” His tone is amused, but the darkening of his eyes belies his casualness.

“Right.” My pulse is pounding in my ears. “That. We’ve never done that. So how do you know…”

“I’ve known for ten years.” Colton leans closer and nibbles my earlobe, causing my whole body to break out in goose bumps. “I also know it’s going to happen, Sky. Soon.”

“Oh, God.” I don’t mean to say that out loud, but my brain has taken a backseat to my overpowering lust for the man sitting next to me.

“When you’re ready,” he says in a whisper. “Not until you want it so badly that you can’t wait another second.”

I clutch at his arm, certain I’m going to tear his shirt. So much for me wanting to keep things G-rated tonight. Right now, I’ll be lucky to make it another five minutes before I drag him into the car and beg him to take me.

“Colt. Let’s just…let’s go finish the game, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re okay to do that?”

“Positive.”

Yes, I’ve always associated my abusive father with sports. But painful memories can be replaced, and spending time with a professional athlete could be the perfect antidote to my past.