Page 4 of Touchdowns and Temptations

My twin brother kept bugging me until I got up and went over to her. When I was almost at her table, she dropped her fork, and I took the opportunity to talk to her. When I saw her face, with her dark brown eyes looking right at me, I was speechless. And because I couldn't think of anything better to say than my name, I told her to get a new fork. It couldn't have been more awkward. Her friend didn't take her eyes off us and told her for sure that I was the biggest idiot ever.

Sighing, I look in the mirror in front of me and rest my hands on the top of the sink. Even though this attempt at flirting backfired, I don't have to hide. I look good, I'm in my prime at twenty-five, and I have the best damn job in the world. Why on earth shouldn't I be able to meet a woman like that?

In most cases, all I have to do is tell women that I'm Noah McCarter and it becomes a no-brainer. Being the quarterback of the Boston Foxes basically gives you a free pass.

After washing and drying my hands, I stand to my full height. To boost my battered ego, I flex my muscles and grin smugly.

I'm a cool guy. I can walk up to a woman I like, ask her out, and lure her into my bed! And now I want Cara in my bed.

“You can do it, McCarter,” I encourage myself. “She's an ordinary woman.”

I turn and confidently leave the bathroom to talk to Cara again. I notice with regret that the table where she was with her friend is empty.

I glance through the bar and out onto the street to see if I can spot her, but nothing. She's gone.

“Damn!” Annoyed, I cross the bar and sit down with my brother. Alex looks at me sympathetically. Since he dyed his hair brown, we don't look much alike. But if you look closely, you can't deny that we are identical twins, despite our different hair colors. Alex is two minutes older than me, which he never fails to point out. We grew up with our big brother Logan in a small town outside of Nashville. Logan plays tight end for the Nashville Warriors. We started playing American football in high school and had athletic scholarships in college. Alex went to Utah, and I went to Georgia. We got drafted three years ago. Alex was drafted by the Boston Foxes, and I was drafted by the Miami Sharks until I followed him to Boston this year.

“What was that?” asks Alex, raising his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” I grumble, dropping onto the barstool. “In fact, nothing at all.”

I reach for my beer and take a big gulp.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Alex replies, not very gallantly. “What happened? You didn’t even get her number. Since when do you suck at flirting?”

I roll my eyes and take another sip of my beer before answering. “She dropped her fork, and I picked it up,” I summarize the situation he saw for himself. “I introduced myself, she introduced herself, and then I told her to get a new fork because hers was dirty.”

Alex tries to remain serious but fails miserably. The next moment he bursts out laughing, causing the bartender to give us a quizzical look.

“Oh God, Noah.” Alex is clearly enjoying himself. “I thought you were going to buy her a drink and ask for her number.”

“I know,” I hiss. “When did she leave?”

“Shortly after you disappeared into the bathroom, they called the waitress and paid,” he replies. “You must have scared her off.” I roll my eyes. “But wait...” I look at him intently. Ever since we were little boys, he's been such a drama queen, always procrastinating. “Since I had nothing better to do, I followed them, and your sweetie got into a Ferrari.”

I open my eyes and turn my head toward the door to look out at the street. “A Ferrari?” I ask. “Are you sure?”

“Yep, I can recognize a baby like that,” he replies. “Great ride. She definitely has taste and a great benefactor.”

I frown.

“Benefactor? What does that mean?”

“How old do you think she is?” he says, pretending to really think. “Early or mid-twenties at the most. A woman that age can't afford a two-hundred-thousand-dollar Ferrari.”

“Why not?” I ask, “Maybe she has a business.”

What is so surprising about the fact that a woman can make a lot of money at a young age? Take Miley Cyrus or the Olsen twins. They were multimillionaires as teenagers.

“Or a rich boyfriend, or no, wait ...” The drama queen is back. “A sugar daddy? Rich parents?”

Now his imagination takes over.

“She doesn't have a sugar daddy!” I grimace and shake my head vehemently. I don't want to believe that she has a sugar daddy. How disgusting would that be? Such a beautiful woman, with such a beautiful body, and then she lets some old dude fuck her to drive a Ferrari? “No way!”

“You just don't want to admit it,” Alex teases, winking at me. “And if she doesn't, she has very rich parents.”

“And what's wrong with that?” I want to know.

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