3. Bennett

THREE

BENNETT

Whatever words were on the tip of my tongue die instantly at the sight in front of me.

Luke Riggs.

Of course I know who he is. Not only is he as famous as most of my friends, but I've actually met him before.

Right here in Vegas, less than a year ago, at my best friend's joint bachelor party. I wasn't on the same team as him for all the challenges, though, so we didn't really interact at all. I was glad for that.

The man is too pretty for his own good.

With classic boy-next-door good looks, pretty blue eyes, blond hair, six-four muscular frame, and an always friendly expression, he's intimidatingly good looking.

I don't like interacting with men who are that handsome, not when I'm attracted to them. Most of my friends are pretty good looking, too, but when I'm this physically attracted to someone, I turn into a very embarrassing mess .

And today is not the day for that.

We finally moved in just yesterday for God's sake. I was late to absolutely everything this morning—to breakfast, to a meeting at Lizzie's hopefully new nursery school, and to Gab's house for our first working session.

Which means that I don't remember if I put on deodorant after the fastest shower in the universe, that I'm wearing a faded Marvel comics T-shirt from the eighties, that my pants are wrinkled, and that I'm wearing my very dorky glasses instead of my contacts because I couldn't find the solution to clean them this morning.

Not the kind of look that will make a good first impression on a man that makes me drool .

He's looking at me with enough interest, I suppose. I tilt my head and look at his expression more carefully.

It's not like I know the guy well. I know Luke and Adam are kind of rivals, I know Adam actually really likes Luke, and that it's probably mutual—I mean, the dude is close to Adam's aunt, so that makes sense—but that's about it, other than his job.

There's no way to be a hundred percent sure, but I am at least seventy percent sure the dude has no idea who I am or that he's met me before.

And that doesn't feel good at all.

How can he look at me with interest when I look like a mess, but not remember me from last May when I was all decked out to party in Vegas?!

Seems idiotic to me.

He must realize he's staring at me, and climbs the three steps quickly and stretches out a hand.

"Hey, I'm Luke. Nice to meet you..." He trails off, waiting for me to introduce myself.

I can't help the snarky response. "Yeah." I shake his hand briefly, and tell myself I don't long for more of the warmth I feel in his palm—the temperature's in the eighties for fuck's sake, I don't need warmth. "Bennett." I give him an up nod, turn and smile at Gab as brightly as I'm capable of at the moment—not my best—then walk to my car.

I see his luxurious SUV parked next to my normal one and it only annoys me more, I'm pretty sure my lips curve up in a sneer at it.

Fuck, I should not feel so shitty about pretty boy over there not remembering me. I don't need a man. Especially a jock who probably only thinks with his dick.

Seeing him staring up at me in wonder screwed with my head, there's no doubt about that. It made me hope , like a middle-school kid with a crush who just made eye contact with him for the first time. Getting my hopes up for any guy is what's really idiotic.

I've learned the hard way that guys don't respect that I don't want to have sex. I know most guys don't want to even try to date a single dad either, sadly.

I have to shake off the embarrassment and the sting. There's no reason to be this upset, really.

So the guy didn't remember me. Whatever. Expectations are what hurt people, not other people—well not always, but in this case.

I should tattoo "don't have any expectations" on my forearm, maybe then I'd remember.

Luke

I stare longingly at the car driving away like an idiot . What just happened ?

"Dear God," Gab groans. I turn to look at her, remembering only then that she's there.

It's for the best that I come back to reality, especially since the man driving the SUV apparently hates me, if his tone when he introduced himself is anything to go by.

Bennett . I mentally sigh his name.

Beautiful Bennett clearly doesn't like me. Maybe he has something against football players? Athletes? People who introduce themselves?

Who the hell knows. But I plan to find out from the only source I have.

I square my shoulders and finally step into Gab's house and go searching for her. She left me staring at nothing at some point. Not that I noticed.

I find her in her office, staring at her monitor and sipping something from a Yeti. Her bright orange metal straw clinks loudly against the edge when she puts it down next to her keyboard.

"Why did that beautiful man run away from me?"

Her body freezes, but her blue-green eyes turn up sharply to stare into mine. "Beautiful, huh?" She smirks then, and the breath stalls in my chest.

Did I just come out to my employer?

Well, at least I know she doesn't have anything against anyone. Well, bigots, she has a lot against bigots, I know. Just like I know how lucky I am to have been drafted by her and not any other person working for an NFL team.

"Well, his beauty is obvious," I say with a breeziness that's not quite genuine. This is a big moment for me after all, no way I can just brush it off no matter how much I wish I could. "Now, just tell me, what does he have against football players?"

Then, something miraculous happens .

Gab snorts.

Inelegantly.

It looks . . . wrong.

A woman in her position, with her poise, intelligence, and manipulation ability should never snort.

That's not even the end of it. She half snorts again, then starts cackling like a lunatic.

Then she looks at me, and my expression of confusion and probably terror only sets her off again.

"Stop that," I demand. "Stop all that." I wave a hand at her face.

I turn and go to the kitchen to get something to drink for myself. I'll just let her settle down and come back to herself, then I'll go back in.

I do just that, and peek inside her office before I enter to see her focused on her computer again.

"Is the body snatcher gone?" I ask warily.

"Yes," she says, but her voice is still full of humor. "And to answer your question, Bennett has absolutely nothing against football players. In fact, he's close friends with a handful of the best of them."

She stares deep into my eyes for a long second as if waiting for me to magically know which players she means. I don't, so I just shrug and keep waiting for her to explain.

She sighs, impatient with my slowness. That's more like the Gab I know and love.

"He's one of Sebas and Adam's friends from college, Luke. He's also really close to George and Leaf, since he's from Seattle, and they all met while they played there."

"Okay..." I say, in a tone that implies I still don't know what I'm missing .

"He was at their bachelor party and their wedding, you dumbass," she finally snaps.

"Oh." I still don't understand, and then it clicks. "Oh," I say in a whisper. "Fuck." I scrub a hand down my face and then look pitifully at Gab. "You know how much of a mess I was last year in the off season, Gab."

"I do," she says placidly, and nods. She leans back in her chair and rests her cheek on her fist, just watching the mortification set it.

"It was even worse back then than it was this January after we lost in the Championship. Because I was even more lost. I didn't work all off season with you so..."

"So?" she asks breezily.

"I can't remember half the things that happened during that time. Even now, thinking back. I mean, we did drink a lot that day, and at the wedding I did too, but it's still all just a blur, you know? I was just existing. God, he must think I'm an asshole."

"All evidence leads to that, yes."

"I have to make it right. I have to."

"He just moved to Vegas, and he has a little girl." My heart stops at her words. Is he married? I didn't think to look for a ring, honestly. She goes on, oblivious to my internal turmoil but calming it instantly. "Being a single father is hard, let alone moving to a totally new city. He needs to find his people here. Reliable people." She adds the last two words with a threatening glare.

I don't really know what she means by that, all I can think about is telling Bennett how sorry I am. Anything beyond that is inconsequential.

Gab sighs and picks up her phone. I don't know what to do or say to convince her to give me his number, or maybe? —

My phone dings and Gab once more smirks at me with superiority.

"Just sent you his address. Come back later, we have work to do. The draft is in less than a month."

I nod and walk right back to my car.

It's true what I told Gab. Last year was a shitshow. I was drowning in self-pity and scared shitless over what my future could entail.

That may range into TMI for someone I've met only twice in mixed company—and I am pretty sure I didn't even talk to him besides saying hello on those occasions, so there's that—so how can I craft a sufficient apology without making it about me?

Well, that seems rather impossible.

I hate that fucking word.

I've done a million things that other people said were impossible.

I'll find a way to do this one too.

I plug the address into the GPS of my car, and note that Bennett lives in the same gated community as me, actually. It's about five miles closer to the city than Gab's place—she likes to be far away from everything.

I try my hardest to dig deep into my memory for the bachelor party, and I think I remember glimpses of Bennett there and at the wedding, but that's all, no matter how much I think about it.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm surprised by what I find when the GPS lady tells me I've arrived at my destination. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't one of the biggest mansions in the community.

It's old, yes. It's not in the best shape, no.

But it's huge. Probably a few rooms bigger than my own place .

There's a new gate though, just like Gab's, so I ring the buzzer and it starts to open without anyone talking through the speaker.

Okay, that seems weird, but I follow the drive up the small hill and park right beside the explorer I saw less than an hour ago.

So Bennett is a father, that I know, but not much else. What does the guy do to earn the kind of money to buy a place like this?

Everything gets even more confusing when I get out of the car.

A woman who looks to be around fifty opens the front door and looks disappointed when she sees me.

"You're not the plumber."

"Uh, no I'm not," I say, and wince. "Sorry. I'm here to see Bennett?" It sounds more like a question than a statement, but she goes with it.

"Oh, you just go around that way." She points to the left. "Then through the garden, and to the pool house. You're lucky, he just got in." She smiles kindly at my nod, and I hear the front door close a few seconds after I start walking in the direction she told me to.

The gardens are overgrown, everything but the path to the pool and the pool house is like a jungle. I see a fence has been put in around the pool, and smile. That seems like something a good father would do. So Bennett is already better than my own. Not the highest bar, but it's something. The pool is empty of water though, and there's a machine at the bottom that has all kinds of tubes. I recognize it as the one my landscaper uses when he does pool maintenance once a year.

I knock on the glass-paneled door and try to see inside. This place, unlike the main house, looks like it's been renovated from what I can see, but there's no one around. I knock again, a bit harder, and less than a minute later Bennett, wearing different clothes now—well-fitted pants and a white tee—opens the door without even looking at who it is .

I frown when I don't see the glasses anymore.

"What happened to your glasses?" I realize that's the wrong thing to say when Bennett juts his chin out and crosses his arms.

"Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say." Look at that, I can apologize just fine. I straighten and look directly into his green eyes. Hopefully I don't get lost in them before I can get all this out. "I came here to say sorry, so I guess that's just another thing to add to the list. It's just that, well, the glasses probably added to the whole thing, you know? I mean, it worked for Clark Kent, so you gotta figure it works in real life too, right?"

I know I sound insane, I do, but I can't seem to stop. Bennett looks confused, and no less annoyed than when I mentioned his glasses in the first place. I quickly go on before he can tell me to fuck off.

"But it's also that last year's off season was kind of a blur, you know?" I realize he wouldn't know when he only stares at me. "The Rogues, uhm." I cough. "Gab's team, the team I play for, we've had a few frustrating seasons. This off season is better for me because I feel like I'm doing something to maybe get us out of this rut, but I did nothing last off season, just basically existed for six months. I barely remember anything I did or ate. I don't think I even remember Adam's wedding. I know I was there because of the pictures, but I just blocked all that out because, well... I wasn't feeling like myself. I actually think I'm so fucking embarrassed of the sad sack I was impersonating back then that my brain is protecting me from having to relive it."

I finally manage to shut the fuck up, and Bennett is still just staring, though there's something closer to amusement in his eyes now, not only annoyance.