Page 43 of The Player's Obsession

“Can you believe you’re dating a player?”

“Nope. And remember, it’s not real, and we’re keeping that a secret,” I whisper.

A fan behind us leans forward to say, “Little lady, that jersey you’re wearing looks genuine.”

“Thank you, it is. I happen to know Oliver.”

“Well, well, how about that. It’s like having a piece of him right here. How’s he doing? I heard he had a tough time after that thing with the model fell apart.”

I glance over my shoulder in time to catch his wife jabbing his ribs with her elbow. “Walter, that’s rude.”

“Yeah, it threw him for a loop, but he got over it.”

“Well, good luck to you both.” He turns to his wife, and I overhear him saying, “I didn’t mean anything by it. Everyone knows he played like shit after the breakup and refused to talk to the press.”

I lean into Lucinda. “I’m sure that’s only a sample of what’s in store for me this weekend. Lucky me,” I say with sarcasm.

Lucinda taps my arm. “Oliver likes you. He texts you, calls you, and even gives you his game-worn jersey. That’s a big deal.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves. I’m not his type. You can dress me up, but I’ll never belong in his world. I’m not even sure everything he says and does is real. My plan is to fake it and collect my money. I will not fall in love with him. Besides, he would only break my heart.”

“That’s not true, you never know.”

I shrug. The team runs onto the field, the crowd erupts, drowning out our conversation. We stand and cheer with the rest of the fans. The team warms up, and then the game begins. We’re playing the Florida Hurricanes, and everyone around us predicts it’s too cold and “the sissies from the South” will lose.

I chuckle. Season ticket holders surround us because everyone seems to know each other. They also know all the players by name and some rattle-off stats.

The first quarter is slow going until Oliver catches the ball and runs into the end zone. We stand and cheer and chant his name along with everyone else. Lucinda is sporting a huge smile.

Oliver returns to the bench after the play ends and the ball turns over. I look for him on the sideline and find him before he sees me. I can tell he’s looking for me. When our eyes lock, his handsome face lights up. My heart stops, mesmerized by his smile. He nudges the player next to him, and he waves, too. I give a small wave back to be polite.

“Oh my God, that’s the quarterback, Travis, waving at you,” Lucinda exclaims. She jumps up and down like she’s on a trampoline. I’ve never seen her so excited.

I have to admit the star power of the men on the field is real. As much as I’m looking forward to the weekend, I hope I can keep things between us professional. There’s nothing worse than suffering from unrequited love. It won’t happen to me. I won’t let it.

I need to pretend to be in love but keep my heart in the vault. I can do this.

When the game ends, Oliver texts me. He wants us to meet him in the tunnel.

When I tell Lucinda, I worry she will pass out.

“Be still, my heart,” she says, fanning herself as we walk to the designated area. We’re met by security, who check their roster and escort us to where players take off their pads and helmets before they enter the locker room.

“There you are, gorgeous,” Oliver exclaims. His thick hair is wet, and his face is flushed. I’ve never been one for sweaty men, but it’s sexy on him.

“Hi, honey,” I say, playing along.

He scoops me into his arms, and it’s as if the rotation of the earth stopped. My arms slide around his neck; our faces are close, and my head is slightly above his.

“We won!” he exclaims.

I can’t stop grinning. It’s a game that doesn’t matter for the season, but to him, a win is a win and must be celebrated.

There’s still a trace of his musky cologne left, and it’s infused with the smell of him. I find it’s as sweet as magnolias on a hot summer night. Our eyes lock. I lower my head, our lips line up, and he kisses me. It’s a magical kiss, long and warm. I return his ardent display of affection, and his teammates make whooping noises and tell us to get a room.

He breaks away, leaving me breathless.

“I have to get cleaned up. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.” And then he winks at me. His beautiful blue eyes captivate me, and if that’s not enough to make me drop my panties, I don’t know what will.

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