“I wasn’t going to try to sleep with her tonight, but I don’t want to be in a crowded restaurant where people might recognize me.”

  “Listen to this superstar,” Warner says, laughing as he pushes up another rep.

  “But I don’t wanna go to a movie and not be able to talk either.” I ignore Warner’s comment.

  Warner finishes his reps and sits up to rest. “I can ask for reinforcements.” What he means is he can ask Imogen, but I want it to be my idea.

  “That’s okay, man, I’ll think of something.”

  “That’s over now. Let’s work the fuck out now and stop talking about women.” Kane moves over to the barbells in front of the mirror.

  Warner joins him while I rack my brain on what Ande might want to do for our first official date.

  After my workout and shower, I sit on my couch back home and dial up Ande.

  She answers on the fourth ring. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  There’s a beat of silence.

  “So, I got your text…”

  “I figured.” Something’s off in her voice. Maybe she’s as nervous as me. I know this is a big step for her to trust me.

  “I wanted to see when you’re available. Unfortunately, we couldn’t have picked a worse week. I have away games, and I won’t be home until late Friday.”

  “Oh.” She’s quiet. “That’s okay.”

  “I wish I could pack you up in my suitcase.”

  She laughs, but it’s not a genuine laugh. Not the same one from our time in paradise. My heart is practically beating out of my chest. Did she change her mind about us already?

  “How about next Saturday? It’s a rare weekend when I don’t have a game.” I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for her response.

  “Sure.”

  “Unless…”

  “What?”

  “I know today’s Sunday and all, but would you want to go grab a bite to eat and maybe walk on the beach? Just something so we can see each other?”

  There’s another long silence and I hold my breath for a beat.

  “I really want to see you.”

  “I have work to catch up on,” she says, then there’s a muffled sound like her hand is over the receiver.

  “Ande?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, my sister is in town.” Again there’s a muffled sound.

  “Oh sorry, I didn’t know. No worries, we can plan something for next weekend.”

  “No, it’s okay. She’s leaving in an hour to catch a flight home, so how about four?”

  Thank fuck. For a moment, I thought that text was some kind of prank on her part, or she was so wasted last night she regretted sending it.

  “Four is great. Can you send me your address?”

  Again with the silence. What’s going on with her?

  “Can we meet somewhere?” she asks.

  “You don’t want me to have your address? Ande, I’m not a stranger. You know my damn dick size.”

  And that comment brings back memories of our time in the tropics. How soft her skin was. How shy she was at first. How damn good she felt to wake up next to in the morning.

  “Cory!”

  “Sorry. I just meant…” I realize she’s just being cautious, and I can’t blame her for that. I know she wants to take it slow. “I understand. Let’s meet at the Riverwalk.”

  “Okay. Four at the Riverwalk. See you then.”

  “Ande?” I say before she can hang up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for trusting me.” I hope she knows I don’t take it lightly that she’s placing her trust in me. I won’t disappoint her.

  “Sure. No problem.”

  What? My forehead wrinkles.

  “Bye, Cory.”

  She hangs up, and I sit there for a moment, trying to make sense of our conversation. Maybe she’s one of those people who aren’t comfortable on the phone. Or maybe she’s so scared she’s not being herself.

  I cross my fingers that she’s back to her usual self tonight.

  Then I grab my laptop from the coffee table. Time to do some research on how to make this the best date Ande’s ever been on.

  I’ve been second-guessing this plan since I texted Cory. York assures me we’re doing the right thing, that it’s about time one of these assholes who thinks it’s okay to break hearts gets what’s coming to them, but I’m not her. I can’t hide my feelings as well as she does. And I’m still really pissed at Cory. That he’d act like he wants a relationship with me and sleep with my sister is like a dagger in the chest. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep from saying something.

  I walk down the Riverwalk, seeking Cory, but other than some families and couples, there aren’t any guys lingering around. Then I turn a corner and find him sitting on a park bench, his ankle resting on his knee, an arm stretched along the back of the bench. He has sunglasses and a hat on, which I’m guessing is to disguise himself. He looks as gorgeous as he always does, and for a moment, I forget all about York.

  When he turns in my direction and his smile widens, it all rushes back and so does the bile rising up my throat. He slept with my sister on Friday night. My hand instinctively goes to my stomach.

  Then he stands and his height is so dominating that a few people glance in his direction, probably wondering if they know him. He’s been the face of the Fury for the last couple weeks and I’m sure that’s come with a lot more recognition with the public.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says.

  All I envision for a moment is him saying that to York. Naked in bed when they woke up after a night full of sex just yesterday morning.

  The fact that he unknowingly slept with my sister months ago doesn’t bother me as much. Maybe it should, but we weren’t even talking back then, and I know my sister. It meant nothing to her, and if she’d thought it would mean something to Cory, she wouldn’t have slept with him to begin with. But the fact that he slept with her again when he was telling me how much he cared about me makes me want to throw up all over his Air Jordans.

  I force a smile. “Hey.”

  “I figure we’d walk for a while, maybe stop by a bar or two. Get some appetizers and drinks.”

  “Sure.”

  We walk, but we’re not fifty feet before a man with deep-umber skin and who I assume is his son comes up to us.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Sorry, ma’am,” the dad says to me. “We’re huge fans. Would you mind?” He nods beside him at his son.

  The kid is looking at Cory with wide eyes but no smile, holding out a marker and a piece of paper.

  “Sure.” Cory accepts the marker and piece of paper, signing his name. “What’s your name, buddy?” He crouches down to the kid’s level.

  “Justin,” he says almost inaudibly.

  “Do you play hockey, Justin?” Cory asks.

  Justin nods.

  “He plays street hockey mostly. But he just joined an ice hockey team.” His dad squeezes his shoulder. “He loves watching you play. That stretch you skated last week against Nashville was insanely fast.”

  Cory looks at the dad and smiles. “Thanks. You want to know how I got so fast?” he says to Justin.

  A few people walk by and watch the scene unfolding. Some pull out their phones—most likely to try to figure out who Cory is. I really hope this doesn’t turn into a full-on mob of people asking for autographs. The fact these two recognized him amazes me.

  “How?” Justin asks.

  “I ate all my vegetables, and I practiced every day. But most of all, I just had fun. If you don’t love it, don’t do it. But if you love it, give it your all. That was my mom’s motto when I was growing up.”

  Justin’s dark eyes sparkle, and he smiles. “I eat my broccoli and I love street hockey. Ice hockey is harder with the pads.”

  Cory nods. “Yeah, but as you grow, you’ll get used to it. Do you have fun on the ice?”

  “Well, I can’t go as fast, and it’s cold, but yeah.” The young boy nods.

  “Then keep working at it. I fell in love with hockey the first time I was on the ice, but that’s not true for everybody. Some kids grow into it.”

  He bumps knuckles with the boy and stands, stretching to his full height and making him tower over the dad.

  “I can’t thank you enough. You know, there aren’t a lot of Black hockey players out there. When I suggested Justin play hockey, he told me it was a white man’s sport. Then you got drafted to the Fury, so I took him to a game. It made a real difference for him to see someone who looked like him out on the ice. I’m glad you’ve gotten your chance to shine this season, although I wish it wasn’t because of Drake’s health issues.”

  Cory shakes the dad’s hand. “That means a lot. Thanks for sharing.”

  We say goodbye to them, and as we walk away, Cory doesn’t seem to be on the date with me at all. He’s lost in his head.

  We stop at a bar and are seated outside by the Gulf before I ask, “Are you okay?”

  He takes off his hat and sunglasses, putting them on the empty chair next to him, then runs his palm over his head. “I should’ve said more to that little kid and his dad. I mean, ‘thanks for sharing’? What a stupid response to what he told me.”

  “I thought it was sweet,” I answer honestly.

  “I started skating on ponds with my friends growing up, and there were all kinds of kids there—Black, white, Hispanic, biracial, you name it. It’s all I ever knew. Then I joined a hockey team, and from there, I was probably one of two Black guys in the league. Up until then, I didn’t give any thought to who played hockey. And once I did, I was already in love with it. I hate that Justin feels it’s a white man’s sport and was hesitant to try, but I get it. It’s not a big part of Black culture. Beyond that, it’s expensive to play hockey and not every family, especially inner-city minority families, can afford to buy new equipment when kids grow out of it so fast.”

  The waitress comes over and slides our drinks on the table. Cory ordered a beer, and I ordered a fruity drink with an umbrella. We order three appetizers to share and the waitress leaves.

  “Did you know that Warner has a nonprofit he’s opening here for kids who can’t afford hockey equipment? I think I need to talk to him, see what I can do to help him out with it.”

  “Warner Langley?” I ask, a little surprised.

  Cory laughs. “Imogen might be rich, but Warner was raised by a single mom in New York City and didn’t have much growing up.”

  I touch his hand in an effort to ease the distress that’s written all over his face. The minute our hands touch, I know it was a mistake, because a zing of electricity shoots up my arm and throughout my body. “You should then. Paying it forward. Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

  “Yeah, I think maybe I will.” He lets out a long breath.

  “In the meantime, you made that kid’s night. Just playing your heart out every game, you’re giving kids like him something to believe in. You’re showing them they can do it, that there’s a spot for them.”

  He nods and sips his beer. “I need you around more,” he says, his million-dollar smile back on display. “Now, let’s talk about us.”

  My stomach feels queasy. For the briefest moment, I forgot that I hate Cory Freeman.

  By the time we’re ready to call it an evening, I’m a little buzzed from the drinks we’ve consumed. It wasn’t my plan, but I needed the alcohol to loosen me up a bit. Being around Cory and keeping from spewing my anger at him was harder than I thought.

  Cory walks me to the Uber pickup spot. He asked if he could drive me home, but I declined.

  “I had a great time tonight,” he says as the end of the Riverwalk comes into view.

  The truth is, I did too when I forgot about this whole thing being fake. And the fact that he slept with my sister days ago. It’s as if he somehow cast a magical spell on me.

  “I wish I could take you home with me.” He puts his hand on the small of my back, slowing our steps and leading me off to the side, out of the way of pedestrian traffic.

  “Do you have no filter at all?” I ask when what I really want to ask is why my sister wasn’t enough to quench his thirst on Friday night?

  “I told myself I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking you home tonight, but I’m transparent when it comes to you. I want you to know what I’m thinking. I’m not into playing games.”

  I barely suppress an eye roll. “Games? Who is?” I say in a defensive tone. Instantly, I clear my throat. “I mean…”

  But he’s quick to shush me with a finger to my lips. “I really like you, and I can’t deny that I want you in my bed. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve relived those moments we shared.”

  I shake my head and stare at my feet. “You need to stop.”

  “Why?” He lightly touches my chin with his thumb and forefinger, urging me to look up at him. “I thought you wanted to do this dating thing?”

  I sigh.

  “Am I missing something?” He steps back.

  “No. No.” The words rush out of me, surprising even myself. “Just… hearing those things makes it hard to go slow.”

  The corners of his lips rise in a sexy smile. “I’m ready to push down on the gas whenever you are.”

  “Slow down, cowboy.” I raise my hand to his chest as he steps toward me. “We’re still just trotting.”

  “Let me know when you want to ride the stallion.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Don’t we think highly of ourselves?”

  He laughs. “Don’t act like you don’t remember.”

  An image of him naked at the edge of the bed during our vacation fling flickers to mind. His deep V and the grooves of his abs, not to mention all his other muscles. The wings tattooed across his chest and the light sprinkling of dark hair that travels down past his navel. And then I picture his cock. His big, rigid cock that made me come over and over again.

  “Now I’ve made you blush.” His voice is low and laced with lust.

  I feel the heat on my cheeks. Cory’s the last person I had sex with, and my body involuntarily sways in his direction as though I’m offering myself to him. He takes the invitation and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly to his hard body.

  “I need to go,” I whisper.

  “Just a second longer. The Uber will wait,” he says softly in my ear. “I’m not sure what’s holding you back, but I hope one day soon you’ll trust me enough to talk to me about it because I’m all in on this. I feel your hesitation. But that hesitation wasn’t there the other night at Warner and Imogen’s wedding dinner.”

  I open my mouth to throw the accusation out there, but York’s words ring in my ear. “Don’t fall for his games. He’s a sweet talker and can make any woman swoon. Remember how many other women there probably are besides me. He’s probably got a different one in every city.”

  I step back from him, straightening my purse. “I gotta go. Have a great night. Thank you for the drinks and food.”

  I scurry away, finding my Uber before Cory can stop me. Once I’m securely in the car, Cory comes into view. He waves then blows me a kiss with a wink. Not at all fazed by me running away from him.

  As I’m about to smile from the cheesiness of the situation, a group of three women swarm him. He turns and grants them the attention they seek, even posing for pictures.

  I pull out my phone and send a quick text to York.

  Me: Date one is over. This is hard.

  Three dots appear.

  York: You did something right, these pictures just hit the hockey gossip blog.

  Screenshots of Cory and me pop up on my phone—us at the bar laughing, a bunch of comments suggesting I’m his next victim. One person says they hope I end up seeing this thread so I can be warned about what a player he is. Another picture pops up with a message from York right under it.

  The picture shows me tucked in Cory’s arms from literally minutes ago.

  York: This looks a little too cozy, sis. Watch yourself.

  She’s right. You can see it written all over my face. I’m pretty sure once this is over, I might break my heart right along with Cory’s.

  After practice, I find a handwritten note taped to my locker from Jana Gerhardt, asking me to come see her. We’re due to leave this evening for five days for a streak of away games.

  “The warden calls.” Tweetie reads the note over my shoulder. “You’re in trouble.”

  Rumor is Jana is already running a lot of the office. That Mr. Gerhardt, our owner, is finding interest in other areas and one day soon, the Florida Fury will be passed down to her.

  “Piss off,” I say with more confidence than I feel.

  I’ve been summoned to the executive offices and if Jana’s second-in-command up there, it’s probably not for the best. Usually, good news trickles down to Coach. Drake is practicing again and soon will be released to play, but I can’t fathom that means they’d just get rid of me.

  “Hey.” Warner puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. I once got called up there because they wanted me to be the face of the Florida Fury. Now that you’re out there making a name for yourself and I’m married with a kid on the way, it could be for the same reason.”

  The pressure alone if they asked me to be the face of the franchise would crush me like a semi. I’m not built for that role.

  I grab my stuff and head to the showers because Jana isn’t someone you go see smelling of sweat after a practice.

  “So, Imogen saw some pictures…” Warner says.

  My mom saw the pictures too and called me this morning. I keep telling her to stop reading those ridiculous blog sites. All they do is upset her. But once I explained that I’d already met Ande before and she’s not just a fling for me, Mom now thinks Ande could be “the one.”

  “You and Ande looked pretty cozy,” Warner continues when I don’t respond.

  “Trevor’s a good guy, man,” Tweetie chimes in.

  We all stare at him for a moment.