Free Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) by Christina C Jones

creating a warmth that helped balance the cool color scheme.
    It was very… low-key.
    Not at all what I’d expected to walk into.
    “You want a beer or something?”
    Internally, I cringed, but I’d learned early into the business side of football that if you were offered a beer, you accepted at least one. And no matter that Jordan’s expertly toned, beautifully inked, perfectly lickable upper-half was on full display, this was a business call.
    At least that’s what I told myself as I nodded.
    I followed him into the kitchen, silently chiding myself as I admired the sculpted contours of his wide back and arms. He opened a black stainless steel refrigerator and reached way into the back, grabbing a bottle there before he snagged one from closer to the front, then closed it.
    He opened both bottles, then unceremoniously pushed one into my hand before he walked off toward the TV, where he had the game on replay. I was still standing in the kitchen when he sat down, raising his bottle to his lips.
    I rolled my eyes, then left my purse on the counter, shoes by the door, and made my way to where he was. He’d taken a place in the corner of the huge, L-shaped couch, so I chose a spot a responsible distance away from him and sat down, not saying anything.
    He had a pad in his lap as he watched the game, jotting down notes about certain plays. Instead of saying anything, I simply studied him, until he must have felt my eyes on him and looked my way, eyebrow raised.
    I tried to cover by averting my gaze, and took a swig from the beer to distract myself. I was expecting awful, but instead my taste buds were met with bright, crisp, fruity flavors that caught me off guard. I pulled the bottle away to look at it, surprised to see a label printed with a bright orange fish, and a name I didn’t recognize as a national brand.
    “Figured you’d like that fruity shit,” Jordan mumbled.
    When I glanced at him, his gaze was on the TV, not me. The beer in his hand sported a different, but similarly eccentric label. “What about you? That damn sure isn’t a Budweiser in your hand.”
    “It’s not. Jess introduced me to this quirky shit, sent me a bunch to try out. The ones I like aren’t fruity. Here,” he said, holding the bottle out to me. I stared at it for a few seconds, then took it, lifting it to my lips for a swig.
    “It’s peppery. And kind of chocolatey? It’s nice,” I admitted, handed it back. “Not at all pissy, like every other beer I’ve tasted.”
    He chuckled, then took another long swig from his bottle before he sighed. “So are you going to eventually get to what you came here for? You said you wanted to talk, so… talk.”
    I licked my lips, then drank from my beer again, letting the subtle grapefruit flavor linger on my tongue before I spoke. “I… I want to know what’s going on with you, Jordan. You’ve been different lately, and I wanted to know if you were okay.”
    “I’m good,” he said, too quickly. His eyes went back to the TV.
    “You expect me to believe that?”
    He shrugged. “You’ve always believed what you wanted to believe anyway, Nicki. So there’s no point in me sitting here trying to convince you.”
    “You don’t have to get snippy with me Jordan, I’m here because I’m concerned. You’re not… predictable, anymore. One minute you’re at the strip club as many days in a row as you can get there, the next, you’re sulking at home in front of your TV after you pull off an incredible win. Is this the new normal? You fucking and pouting your way through the season?”
    “Fucking and pout—… you don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he scoffed.
    “Then explain it to me,” I said, turning toward him on the couch. “Because all the gossip sites were talking about before the game was the pictures of you, Cin, and her baby having breakfast this morning. Is that your girlfriend now? Your child? These are things I need to know, so that we’re making sure you