Page 13 of Infinite

“You know how I’m not supposed to mention the ‘B’ word?”

My head falls into my hand and I rub. “Yeah?”

“Or the ‘F’ word?”

Sean means football, not fuck and the “B” word . . . well, there isn’t a stronger word out there. That word is capable of skinning me faster than Pris would that puppy.Becca. . . well, I’ll be damned. Why is Sean bringing her up now?

“Yeah?” I ask again.

“The ‘B’ word and the ‘F’ word are on TV.”

“They shouldn’t allow that on television,” I mutter. “Not with so many children watching.”

Sean pauses long enough to swallow whatever he’s munching on. “Hale, just put it on.”

Against my better judgment, I flick on the giant flat screen perched along the far wall. “Which channel?”

“All of them. You pick. Becca’s made national news.”

Of course she has. I switch on FS1. Yeah, there she is.

After all I’ve done and all I’ve suffered through these past ten years, seeing Becca should not have this effect on me. If my mind were as brilliant as everybody always told me it was, it should simply place Becca someplace between a childhood friend and one rough night. Just looking at her face shouldnotshove those memories front and center or sharpen them to a dagger capable of puncturing my skull. But here I am, wondering how one woman can wield such a knock-out punch.

Sun-kissed blond hair streaked with platinum and assets capable of rendering a man powerless at the groin, Becca isthatwoman. The one every heterosexual man has fantasized about at least once in his life.

Her smile is as brilliant and heart-stopping as ever, threatening to knock me off my feet if I wasn’t already sitting. And her voice? Lord, help me. The moment I hear her sweet southern twang I’m that young man again, the one who never dreamed our friendship would die as brutally as it did.

What has to be wall to wall male reporters duke it out to ask the next question, “Miss Shields, Miss Shields,” one close to her calls out. “The Carolina Cougars are headed to the playoffs and hailed as heroes—not only in the South, but in the entire football league. Are you responsible for catapulting this once has-been, drug-addicted team into superstardom?”

Becca tosses her long hair over her shoulder, smiling like the angelic virgin she resembles, instead of the devil in high heels she is. “Of course, I am,” she says, adding a wink, because she’s not already sexy enough. “But I also think the hard work and unyielding spirit of this brilliant young team might have something to do with it.”

That earns her plenty of laughs from the crowd, and the way she tosses her hair, again more fans than all the players combined. Each word that flows from those full pretty lips laces the air with enough powdered sugar to taste it from here.

“Miss Shields,” another numb nuts beckons. “The Carolina Cougar cheerleaders are now the most recognizable faces in the entire league thanks to the success of the team.”

Becca nods, feigning curiosity. Like me, she already knows where this conversation is headed and she’s ready for it. “Is it true that there’s a new swimsuit issue planned where the cheerleaders have the option of posing partially nude or in lingerie?”

“Yes, sir,” she adds. “It’s also true that proceeds will go to the victims of the recent massacre in Yemen.” She tries to lead him away from the partial nudity and into a better PR place. “Every member of the squad was thrilled to be a part of the issue. These goodhearted ladies are not only committed to the professional aspects that accompany their duties as NFL cheerleads, but to aiding humankind beyond the world of sports.”

Damn. She’s good. Her response should be more than enough to placate the reporter and move the press conference along. Except this guy is more of dick than I initially thought. He speaks over the next reporter asking about the banquet Becks organized to raise money for the children’s hospital. “Will you be featured in the swimsuit issue, Miss Shields? The centerfold perhaps?” he adds with a laugh.

I can’t see this idiot, but recognize his question has at least some merit. Becca is all curves, tiny waist, and legs as long as Tennessee. She could be Playmate of the year and probably every year that follows. Gorgeous looks aside, Becca’s always been more brains than bust, an attribute she takes tremendous pride in and has valued more than the money she’s from. Anyone who’s ever taken the time to listen to her could sense as much.

This reporter though? It’s clear he ain’t listening.

“Stefan,” Becca says, her smile fading just enough to reveal her tough side. “I don’t grace the covers of sports magazines or pose for calendar shoots. I don’t even find it necessary to make the front page of the newspaper unless it’s to represent this team I’m so proud of. My job is to make sure that anyone associated with the Carolina Cougars uses his or her presence to give back to a world that’s been good to them and this future Super Bowl Champions team.” Her smile widens, still sweet, but with an edge, so it’s clear her final statement ends with an unspoken “you worthless piece of misogynistic shit,” rather than a period.

I shut the TV off when she turns to answer the next question. Not because I don’t want to keep watching, but because I do. Jesus Christ in heaven. When thehellam I going to get over this woman?

“Did you turn it off?” Sean asks.

There’s enough sound coming from his end of the line that I can still hear Becca’s voice. Unlike me, Sean is still watching. He and Becca remain close, but then again, they never got as close as Becca and me got on that beach.

“I have work to do, Sean,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Yeah.” He takes a sip of his drink. “I think Becca broke off her engagement.”

I straighten, every muscle along myspine turning to stone. For once, I’m glad Sean’s not around. I don’t want him to see me like this.

---