I’ve canceled my date for the evening. Natasha something or other. Hated to do it to her after meeting her at the gym and promising her she could show me around town.

I don’t need her or anyone else showing me around. Well, maybe one person, but I can’t seem to pull my head out of my ass to try and apologize to her. I’m afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret again, and in my position regret needs to stay as far away from me as I’ve been of Justice.

I step into the crowded bar called Whiskey Jacks. The few locals I’ve talked to say it’s the happening joint in downtown Boise, even on weekdays. The scene is not my usual. Especially at the moment, since half of the people in here have stopped talking, mouths dropping to the floor when I walk by.

My mood is shit, so I nod and smile. Shake a few guys’ hands and keep moving.

I came here to play football and seek revenge. It seems revenge has a funny and twisted way of blowing back on me. I’m experiencing it firsthand with every glimpse of the only woman I’ve ever loved. She’s everywhere.

Thoughts and dreams on the field. Hell, she’s even in my bed at night when I have my hand wrapped around my dick.

   Seeing her is gutting me. It draws back so much pent-up frustration that there are days when I wished I hadn’t let my injury get as far as it did. If it didn’t, I might not be here right now, might not have admitted that my feelings for her are still alive and burning inside of me.

I knew my shoulder was causing me issues before it gave out on me. Little did I know that a flare-up of bone spurs caught in between my muscles would trigger my shoulder to freeze.

   It happened so fast when I threw the ball down the field that I had no time to react before I was slammed into from both sides, heard it crunch with the impact from the ground. It shattered and ripped all the way up my neck. It fucked me all up.

   Enough to where I had two surgeries within three months, multiple therapy sessions, and a backup quarterback who finished out the season and took our team to the playoffs. The guy respectively ended up taking over my position.

   I was let go during negotiations. I knew I would eventually heal, but there was no way in hell I was sitting on the sidelines watching someone else do my job. It’s not in my DNA. Football is the one true love that’s never let me down. I get a natural high every single time I step on the football field. My mom always reminds me how I carried around footballs since I was one.

“Shit,” I grumble to myself, shaking my thoughts free. Justice Bexley has poisoned everything in my life. Now even thoughts of football take me right to her.

I suppose they should, being that she’s technically my boss and the sight of her gets my dick hard and raises my blood pressure to the roof the few times I’ve caught her watching us practice. She’s going to be involved in my life more than she was when we were dating.

The thought of her owning me in a way has me wanting to prove to her more than to myself that I’m ready to help this team, her family, and the fans bring us to the top.

“What can I get you, number eleven?” The busty redhead leans over the bar more than necessary, giving me quite the cleavage show.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to bait the nasty words I want to spew back at her. Ever since the first press conference announcing my arrival, shit like this happens everywhere I go. After Justice left me, I loved it; hell, I welcomed it. Now, it’s old and quite pathetic.

Even the way some of the female reporters act drives me nuts. I’ve rolled my eyes more than I’ve answered their questions.

“Shit,” I mutter. My mind taking me to the press conference coming up. If I thought the first meeting was hell, then this one with her will be hell on damn steroids. Playing nice with the camera all the while sitting next to Justice. Her scent making me drunk and hard as fucking stone. Yeah, not a good sign for the press. No doubt in my mind they won’t feel and see the tension. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they aren’t circling around us like sharks just waiting to ask about our past either.

That ought to be a goddamn stampede gone wild.

“Crown and coke. Double.” I turn on the barstool pretending to study the crowd, hoping the woman behind the bar remembers she’s here to do a job and not pick me up. This will be my last drink for a long time. Hell, shouldn’t even be having it in the first place, but I’m only human, after all.

“Here you go, handsome.” She slides the clear tumbler full of dark amber liquid my way.

I pull out a twenty and slide it across the bar before going to another barstool in the corner. I take one pull of the drink feeling the whiskey burn all the way down. In an odd way, the fiery liquid calms my already hyped-up, fueled nerves.

That is until I see a flash of blonde hair shaking her sweet ass on the dance floor. My spine stiffens along with something else when my eyes stay glued to her backside. Fucking hell.

Once I focus in on the vision, I swear out loud to everyone and no one at all. “Son of a bitch.”

Those damn leather shorts are tight as hell, and those legs of hers that go on for days have always been my greatest weakness. Back then, she knew it and would expose them all the time. Justice is fit athletically. That sweet body of hers is combined with curves that were created to drive men wild. I stare at her long, exposed legs rocking with the song. “Hey, Blake.”

I hear a distant voice but ignore it, choosing to watch Justice dance with another woman. The friend's face is familiar. I know I should be able to place it, but I can’t focus on a damn thing except for that tight little ass.

Fingernails run along my shoulder, forcing me to look away from the dance floor. A petite little brunette this time. A damn gorgeous one at that. Voluptuous body and a face to match, but she does nothing to my rock-hard dick desperately trying to punch a hole through my zipper.

I’m so damn distracted I offer up a weak smile and glance back to the dance floor to see a man walk up behind Justice and grab her from behind. His hands are touching my favorite thing I’ve ever held in my hands. Her.

I see every single shade of red. It’s one thing to have to be around the woman, but it’s something totally different when another man is involved. Justice spins around, and the soon-to-be dead man wastes no time putting his mouth on hers.

Hell to the motherfucking no.

It’s the final straw that snaps me in half. A broken man seeing white-hot flashes scatter all around and not thinking rationally isn’t a good combination, but it’s a force so torrid I lose all sense of control.

I stand up, my angered body gently shoving the brunette next to me away. For one tiny second, I contemplate on guzzling my drink down. “Fuck it.” There isn’t enough alcohol to numb me right now.

In six long, powerful strides I’m on the dance floor next to them, and when the pencil dick asshole slides his hand down to her ass, I lose all sense of reasoning. I am pissed.

“Justice,” I growl and watch the man turn five shades of white from either whatever she said to him or from seeing me with my fists ready to knock him the fuck out.

Cascades of blonde locks tumble over her shoulder as she whips her head in my direction. She was in the middle of ripping the man a new asshole, I’m sure of it. She halted once she heard her name.

She lifts a perfectly sculpted brow, her anger directed toward me. Yeah, this feisty little princess and me need to have words.

I don’t say another word before grabbing her upper arm and leading her out of Whiskey Jacks. I don’t give two shits she may have left her purse behind either. I don’t stop until we are out on the sidewalk. The chaotic storm inside of me that just hit an all-time high doesn’t give a shit about anything right now except telling her off.

“What in the fuck?” I growl, nearing my face to hers.

“Liam.”

“Goddamn right, it’s Liam. Quite the little stunt out there on the dance floor.” I dig my fingers into her hips as I tug her to me.

She seethes between clenched teeth. “You are drawing a crowd. I suggest that if you want to talk, we go somewhere else besides Main Street.”

I can hear the people gathering around us, can’t find a single fuck to give them. This shit isn’t anyone’s business, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let go of what I just saw.

“I don’t care; you should, though.”

“Yes, you do. The owner and quarterback in a damn fight out in public isn’t going to happen,” she quips, ignoring my subtle threat about her caring. Determination and strength are evident in each word she speaks.

It takes everything inside of me to let go of her and step back. I should walk away and chalk this all up as a lesson to never repeat. But I don’t. Never have when it comes to this sexy, strong-willed, feisty woman who branded herself on my heart. Fuck, I need to calm down, or we will blow this town apart.

“Here, don’t forget this, boss.” Ah, that’s right. The woman shoving Justice’s purse in her hand is her secretary.

Before the woman is back inside, I gently place my hand on the small of Justice’s back and walk toward my Range Rover that’s parked behind the bar. Damn, her skin feels smooth and warm. It ignites my flames.

I glance around seeing everyone lost interest in us and we are now in a deserted alley. That’s when I ignore my body’s reaction to her and lose my shit.

I spin her around, backing her up against the red brick wall. The dim lighting in the alley is a disservice right now because I want to see all of her. I tower over her, lowering my face to hers, and grind my erection into her leather-clad front.

“What the fuck was that in there? Who is he?” I growl, biting down on my lower lip to keep myself from ravaging her.

“None of your business, Liam, and how dare you try and tell me I don’t care. You don’t know a fucking thing,” she spits.

She cares, alright. Cares about fucking me as much as I want to fuck her. I don’t miss the way her hips roll right into mine.

“You made it my business the moment you decided to bring me back into your life.”

“Liam, what is your problem? You bring a thunderstorm into my office and kiss me, tell me you’re only here for football, and ignore me for weeks, and now you suddenly jerk me around, press your hard-on into me, and ask me about my date? Not sure who you think you are, but you are not allowed to mess with me like this.”

“I’m not allowed to mess with you? Did those words really come out of your mouth? Jesus, woman, you don’t get it, do you? You are my problem. My complete fucking problem. And I’ve always gotten hard when I’m around you. Especially when you piss me off, and right now I’m livid.”

Her lower lip trembles briefly. Shit, the last thing I want to do is make her cry, but she has me tangled up. I should have been the man I am and talked to her reasonably about this, except I’m so bitter over not being able to sweep her out of my system the way she did me that the only time I can think clearly is when I’m on the football field. And the past couple of practices I’ve had to pull my head out of my ass to make it through them.

“I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? I’ve been sorry since the day I left. I’m sorry, for Christ sakes.”

“Didn’t look too sorry in there. That chump good enough for your family?”

Her breath catches. Good, I hope it burns when she gulps it back in.

“I never said you weren’t good enough for my family. I told you why we had to break up. You wouldn’t listen. So, don’t you dare put words in my mouth. You won’t like the ones I’ll spit back out. You need to stop, please. God, this isn’t how I wanted this to go between us.” Her words contradict her actions as she wraps her arms around the back of my neck. A bold move when my dick is as hard as this brick wall.

I raise an eyebrow. “Keep talking.”

“I messed up. I was young and doing what I thought was best at the time. I’ve regretted it many times, Liam. You can’t begin to understand. No one can.”

She’s wrong about that. I understand more than she thinks. I’ve lived with mixed emotions for years.

She shocks me when she presses her lips softly to mine. “I’m not going to be treated like trash from you, Liam. I won’t play your game. It’s called forgive and forget. The ball is in your court.”

I shake my head. She isn’t getting off as easily as she thinks. “Wrong sport, sweetheart, and from where I’ve been standing for years, you’re the one who’s playing a game. One that’s been in timeout for too long, don’t you agree? Let’s leave the ball in your hands until you are woman enough to tell me the real reason why you sought me out. It sure as shit isn’t all because I can throw a ball. You have no idea what you did to me. Absolutely none.”

Her face is full of remorse and pain. There’s something else, too. Something she’s kept hidden inside of her. Whatever it is has exhausted her to the point she looks like she wants to give up. Fuck.

“Well, you have no idea what I’ve been through, Liam. How hard it was for me to admit—” She stops talking. I stagger back a step. My head taking me in all kinds of directions. There could be many meanings to her words. I’m not sure where to start or what to think.

“Was it my skin color that was the deal breaker? Me being half African American. Were you afraid your family wouldn’t approve of me? Because I recall telling you I didn’t care who your family was.”

“What? How dare you ask me something like that?”

“What do you expect when you won’t give me an answer?”

This time, she shoves me away from her. Her face reddening and fists balled at her sides. “My family would never judge someone by the color of their skin. You’re an asshole. Do me a favor and pull that almighty stick out of your ass. If you truly think that little of me and my judgment, then you can go to hell for all I care. Show up on the football field and do your job just like you promised you would, and stay away from me. And one more thing. I suggest the next time you want to talk, we do it in private.”

The two words ‘I’m sorry’ dance on my lips. It would be wrong of me not to accept her apology. I can’t get the words to come out, though. Not until she gives me the real reason why she left and why she wanted me here. I doubt she knows this, but Alex and I have become close. The man never betrayed her, and I didn’t ask him to, but I know they are still as good of friends as they always were, and I could tell there were times when he wanted to speak on her behalf.

“I’m not ready to forgive or forget. You can't fool me, Justice. I can see the way you are suffering. You need to be honest with yourself before anything else.” The hurt covering her face keeps all the angry words I want to say to her locked inside of me.

I’ve been warned by my parents and close friends this would happen. They all told me she would buckle up on me if I approached her with anger. Seeing her with another man all over her tightened my buckle.

Maybe she’s right. I should back off, focus on football. I can only hope that she takes the strength she has to pull this team together and use it on herself to finally come clean with me.

She’s holding in pain and heartache over us. The difference between her and me is, she knew why. And up until this very moment, I didn’t.

Fuck me, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize. It is never a good idea to hold what she’s been hiding in, and I bet my career I just figured it out.

Justice spins on her high heels, not missing the chance to stomp away from me. I follow silently behind, not wanting her to walk by herself in a dark alley.  

The parking lot is lit up with the street lights, but still it’s no place for a gorgeous woman. She peers over her shoulder when she’s almost to the curb. Her blonde hair is shining underneath the streetlight. Gorgeous.

We stare at each other for a long time without saying a word. Both of our chests heaving and hearts drumming against our sternums. I run my hand through my unruly dark hair, not wanting to let her go. My mind is all kinds of fucked up. I have everything and nothing to say.

“Just let it go, Liam. And let’s focus on football.”

Not going to happen. She and I both know it. It’s the invisible tug we’ve been battling since I stepped into her stadium.

“Is that what you really want?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I really don’t know. I know I don’t want to fight with you anymore. We can’t find common ground even to hold a damn conversation.”

Yeah, she’s right about that. I jerk my chin, react without thinking when I lean down until we are face-to-face again. I rein it in instead of dragging this out. There is so much more to be said.

“I’ll show you exactly why we can’t hold a conversation, and that’s because our story isn’t over. You chose to stop writing it.”

Our lips connect. She freezes. I don’t. I pour everything into the kiss. The years I missed her contagious laugh, the moments we lost, and the love I still have buried for her deep down in my soul. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips until she parts them for me. I take full advantage of it, soaking up her taste with each delicate swipe of my tongue.

Soon, our mouths and tongues are dancing in unison as they did all those years ago, and I know I’m fucked beyond a shadow of a doubt.

How does a man with the eyes of the nation studying him to see if he’s going to make a great comeback or fall flat on his face let go of the anger of loss and tumble into the love of his life while trying to bring his career back full circle at the same time? That’s my reality, and I have no idea what in the hell I’m going to do about it.