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I rub my hand over my short beard. “I don’t know. I think it could be.”
“Better? Really?”
“Yeah. I have something for you. I’ve been holding on to it, trying to wait for the right time. But the thing I’ve realized is there’s no wrong time.” Rising, I turn around to face the outdoor couch she’s on. I shove my hands in my front pockets. “From the moment we met, I knew you were special. And it didn’t take me long to realize you were the piece I was missing in my life. We clicked from the start, and every obstacle we’ve run into, we always find the quickest way around it. I love you and Tillie with all my heart. I know you said you’d never date a hockey player, but how do you feel about spending the rest of your life with one?” Pulling my hand from my pocket, I hold up the modest blue diamond set in platinum and drop to one knee. “Will you marry me, agápi mou?”
“Yes!” she screams, leaping up to her feet. I sweep her into my arms, holding her close. When I finally set her down, I slip the ring on her left hand. It looks perfect.
“It’s so beautiful,” she breathes, with awe in her tone.
“You’reso beautiful. Eísai tóso ómorfos.”
She looks up at me, with the flames in the fire lighting her eyes with a soft glow. “First, I swore I’d never date a hockey player.” She places her hands on my shoulders. “Then, I started out by wanting a winger.” She slides them up my neck, stopping when she’s cupping my face in her soft palms. She smiles up at me. “And now, I’m marrying the winger.”
* * *
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Flynn
You know that voice in the back of your head telling you not to do something? Well, I don’t have one, at least not one that functions properly. Mine eggs me on, daring me to do my worst.
Which is how I’ve found myself in my current situation—on the verge of being traded from my team.
Coach gave me one last chance to prove myself, so I begged my agent, Nadia, to help me out.
Nadia
When I suggested Flynn find a woman to “fake date” as a solution to his image problem, I never imagined he’d want me to fill that position.
As his agent, I already had my hands full trying to keep him in line. But when he made an offer too good to refuse, I found myself accepting.
Now I’m committed to spending two months in the bad boy of football’s company. His very attentive company.
He smells like sin and looks like every woman’s fantasy come to life. How many stolen touches can I endure before I’m begging for more?
I’m supposed to be changing the player, not falling for him.
* * *
Read on for the Prologue, and Chapter One of Changing The Player
PROLOGUE
FLYNN
My eyes jumpto the giant scoreboard as we huddle up for a final time. The clock’s almost run out and we have no more timeouts remaining. This is our last chance. If we don’t score on this drive, we’re finished.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want any regrets. I’m not ready for our season to be over,” Darren, our quarterback, grits out between labored breaths. “We’ve busted our balls day in and day out all season and we’re one play away from making it to the big game. Let’s go claim our victory.” He lowers his voice, letting us know what the next play will be. Breaking from the huddle, we line up.
Dragging in a long, slow breath, I draw oxygen into my tight lungs. The other team’s defense has been playing aggressively and we’re exhausted. Every inch of my body is sore, but I dig deep, summoning a final burst of energy.
Darren catches the snap, and I spring from the balls of my feet, bursting forward and gaining momentum while at the same time shaking off a defender. Once I’m free, I break into a full-blown run, racing down the field for the pass Darren throws. The spiraling football hurtles toward me and I reach up to catch the well thrown pass. Barely hitting my fingertips, the ball is knocked free before I can contain it. Reaching out, I make a last desperate attempt to recover the pigskin before it hits the ground. But it’s no use—all my effort is in vain. The realization hits me with a juddering force as I crash into the ground.
And just as quick as the snap of two fingers, our season is over.
