“Believe me…” She squeezed his hand. “I know.”
Her warmth seeped in, loosening him even more. “I spend every minute of my life going after a goal I may never reach.”
She couldn’t know the weight of those words he’d never once said out loud. The admission that his career might be over—before it ever really began—was huge. He’d been trained to never give into doubts or negativity.
Stay focused, stay positive. Eyes on the goal.
But he’d said it. And it wasn’t nearly as scary as he’d imagined it might be.
In fact, it was pretty damn freeing.
“And it doesn’t help that my brothers are always lording it over me.”
“Lording what?” Her eyes went wide. “Their success?”
“It’s not like that. They’re just joking around.”
“Xander.”
“My brothers are six and eight years older, so they’ve always teased me.”
“But not about that. That’s just cruel.”
The muscles at the back of his neck tightened. “Ah, come on. You’re from a big family. Everything’s on the table.”
“Can you imagine my sisters making jokes about me getting fired?”
No. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to it.” He tried to say the words lightly, but they came out raw.
“Give me an example.”
“Of the way they tease me?” He didn’t have to think about it. “For context, my dad played for the 49ers, I’ve got one brother playing for Kansas City, and the other for Baltimore.”
Lifting her glass, she said, “To overachieving families.”
They tapped their glasses and, standing right beside her, he was close enough to find her eyes were a complicated mix of brown, hazel, gold, and green.
And he just knew, if he ever had the time to get to know her, she’d be layers upon layers of interesting, thoughtful, caring, passionate woman.
She sipped her wine, and her tongue peeked out to lick her bottom lip.
His body went hot and hard.
He’d obviously felt attraction before—but nothing like this. When it was a mix of desire, curiosity, hunger…it was so much richer.
He blew out a breath. Focus. “Pretty much every time I’m around them, they make a big show out of losing their Super Bowl rings. They think it’s hilarious.”
She looked disgusted. “How is that even funny?”
“Well, from their perspective, they do it because they believe I’m a better player than they are, and that as soon as I get my shot, I’ll break records. They wouldn’t make fun of me if I actually sucked.”
“But you’re not breaking records, you’re not a franchise player…I’m sorry, I know they’re your brothers, and I know they love you, but it just seems incredibly insensitive.”
“You’re angrier about it than I am.”
“You sure about that?”
He drank some wine, aware of a rumble deep inside his body. “My brothers are good guys.”
“I’m sure they are. I just…that’d be hard for me to take.” She poured the sauce into a storage container and then brought the skillet and bowl to the sink.
While she washed dishes, he thought about his parent’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. During the party he and his brothers had thrown, they’d brought their parents into the garage to give them their gift.
They’d found and refurbished the very first truck their dad had ever owned, and when he’d pulled off the tarp, Xander had heard a plink—gold hitting concrete.
“Oh, no, my ring,” Scottie said. “Has anyone seen my ring?”
“Which ring is that, Scottie?” Matt said.
“My Super Bowl ring. You know the really shiny one with a dozen diamonds on it? The ring I won for winning the Super Bowl?”
“Oh, that one,” Matt said. “You better not lose it. It’s irreplaceable.”
Scottie picked up the massive ring. “Not hard to find when it’s this shiny, though, right, Matt?” He smirked at his older brother. “’Course you wouldn’t know since yours is probably tarnished with age.”
His brothers had riffed off each other, and Xander had…well, he’d laughed. He’d played the role expected of him. But inside, he’d been annoyed.
Well, if you’re going there, you might as well go all the way.
He’d been hurt.
“You know what?” His voice rang out in the kitchen.
Lulu hit the faucet with the palm of her hand and turned to him.
“I hate it. It pisses me off when they drop their rings in my egg nog and wait for me to get to the bottom of my glass to find it.” Damn, it felt good to admit it. “And, worse, my mom always says something like, ‘Oh, stop, you two,’ which just makes them laugh harder. Like it’s some harmless comedy routine.”
She dried her hands on a towel. “Have you ever told them to knock it off?”
“No. I’m not making excuses for them, but my brothers and my dad are my greatest supporters. They’d do anything to help me, and when they tease me, they’re trying to get me out of my head. I can be…intense. They don’t mean to hurt me.”
“Okay, but they do hurt you. And humor’s good, but the elephant in the room is that you might never play again, which means it’s not something to joke about.” She shook her head. “Ugh. Listen to me. As if you need me pointing out the obvious. I’m only making it worse.”
“Actually, you’re not. I appreciate your honesty, because everyone just gives me platitudes.” Like Steph. His ex had never gotten real with him, just gave him empty phrases she’d read in self-help books. Which wasn’t what he’d needed. “There’s nothing worse than everyone telling you how great you are, how much potential you have, how you’re going to get your shot…when it’s just not true. I might never get it.” Lifting his wine glass, he tipped it back and let the liquid slide down his throat. “I might never play again.” Relief swept through him. “It feels good to say that out loud. It isn’t easy to stay positive and determined.”
“No, it’s not.”
That sizzling connection hit his skin like static electricity. Her hair looked so pretty falling over her shoulders, and her mouth…fuck, it was expressive and sexy, her lips plump and dark pink.
His heart pounded and desire burned in his blood.
Impulsively, he reached for her hand. “Most people don’t understand.”
“Most people aren’t phenoms and prodigies. And they don’t understand that you can’t be either when you’re twenty-six. It’s an adjustment to realize you’re just making your way like everybody else.”
“Exactly.”
It struck him that she wasn’t being overtly sexual. She didn’t wear provocative clothing, she wasn’t giving him seductive looks, and she wasn’t playfully touching him.
And yet he’d never been more attracted to a woman in his life.
Because she was passionate. The way she touched food, the way she savored it in her mouth. Her heated response to his brothers’ teasing. She was a sensual woman, and he wanted to fuck her.