Page 4 of The Grinder

And didn’t that make you a stone-cold bitch?

Probably.

Still, she’d thought they’d been happy. Not in love but there’d been sparks. Well, more like a warm ember or two. But, really, wasn’t all that chemistry stuff just a big lie to explain away the stupid stuff you wanted to do because you were in lust?

She wasn’t some hopeless romantic who was waiting for “the thunderbolt,” that lightning strike from out of the blue that was supposed to hit you when you met the man you were supposed to marry.

“Got a date?” Riley asked.

Was he teasing or fishing for information? And really, how badly was she deluding herself?

She wasn’t some hideous troll but guys like this didn’t ask out girls like her, with her reading glasses hanging around her neck and her skirt a safe two inches below her knees and her buttoned-up blouse.

She resisted the urge to look down at herself to see if she’d actually buttoned it all the way to her neck this morning.

Besides, professional athletes had bad reputations. Not that she’d ever dated one. But her sister had dated an NFL player she’d met at a party during training camp at a local college. And he’d been a huge asshole.

“No, I don’t. But I—”

“Then I’ll leave two tickets for you at the door.” His smile widened. “Bring a friend.”

“I’m not sure I can. I’ve—”

“Come on, you’ll have a great time. We’re playing the second-best team in the league. It’ll be a good game.”

He grinned and…oh wow. That smile should be illegal. It made her thighs…and other parts…clench.

And she couldn’t resist asking, “So who’s the best team in the league?”

“We are.” His smile widened even more and she felt her insides tighten and heat. “Our team won the Calder Cup last year and we’re looking to repeat this year.”

She nodded like she knew what winning a Calder Cup meant.

Then she resisted the urge to bat her eyes at him and pet his chest.

“So, Miss Martin, wanna come to a game tomorrow night?”

Riley watched the woman in front of him think really hard about her answer to his question.

And he had to admit, his pride was taking a hit.

Usually, women jumped at the chance to accept whatever he was offering. Tickets, dinner, sex…

Then again, most of those women knew who he was and what he did. Most of them sought him out and, even if they didn’t, he didn’t have to do much chasing.

This girl was nothing like those others who went out of their way to catch his eye, except for one—she was hot. From the top of her blonde head to the tips of her toes in those little heels and everything in between, this girl flipped all of his switches.

But she didn’t seem to want anything to do with him.

Well, damn. Wasn’t that just par for his fucking course this year?

He hadn’t really wanted to do this today, hadn’t wanted to have to fight through the bullshit of medical bills and be reminded of the injury that’d nearly killed his career last season.

He’d figured he’d be up against some middle-aged battle-ax who’d question him for five minutes, make him feel like a criminal for daring to question the mighty hospital’s bill, and make him fill out a shit-ton of forms.

But when he’d stepped into the office and seen that beautiful ass in that tight black skirt sticking up in the air, he’d been understandably turned on.

Then she’d stood and every naughty librarian fantasy he’d ever had flashed through his brain.

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