Page 5 of The Break Down

I mean, he really really hates them.

I don’t think he’s said a single word to me in the whole time I’ve been here.

But I’m not the type of gal to run from big, bad ballers.

So, here I am.

When I told Carolina I wanted to ditch Jersey and help give this new team some viral traction, I half-expected her to laugh.

But she didn’t. She said yes.

She believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.

So I packed up, cashed in my points, and flew one-way to Consequence, North Carolina.

And who was the first person I met when I got off the plane?

Koa freaking Jackson.

All biceps and brooding. The man looks like he was carved from obsidian by a horny goddess and then dipped in Polynesian sunshine.

He’s six-and-a-half feet of muscle, attitude, and a growly Kiwi accent that makes my brain short-circuit just a little.

If only he wasn’t a total jerk.

Never even says hello.

Just stares at me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of his cleats.

Every time I try to implement something new for the team, he stalks off, muttering under his breath aboutfancy PR nonsense.

So yeah, my impression of the guy?

Hot.

Grumpy.

And unfortunately, completely allergic to my charms.

What? I got charms. My Uncle Tony says I’m downright cute for a pleasantly plump broad.

Yeah, he calls women broads. Which is probably why my Uncle Tony is still single.

Anyway, what can I say? Koa Jackson makes me feel about as wanted as a plague of locusts.

But I can’t back out now. I signed a contract with the Rovers to be their one woman PR team.

So, I’ve got to spend the entire season filming practices and pretending I don’t notice the way he glares at me like I personally insulted his mother and every ancestor before her.

This is fine. I’m fine.

Totally capable of ignoring the growly, gorgeous nightmare who makes my insides turn into some sticky sweet and somehow spicy combination of cotton candy and rage.

I can so handle this.

Probably.

Maybe.

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