Page 3 of The Anaconda Downstairs

Snakes, man.

But it was Penelope.

I had to do something.

I shook my head, trying to clear the image of her all pink and giddy from my mind. Nope. Not going there. Penelope was off-limits, end of story. She worked for Kelsey, who was marryingmy brother. Almost a sister-in-law. She was practically family for crying out loud.

Declan would murder anyone who looked at Pen wrong.

I. Was. Not. Looking.

By the time we reached the practice field, I’d almost convinced myself I was over the whole snake fiasco. Almost.

“Alright, Kingman,” the running coach bellowed as soon as I stepped onto the field. “Let’s see if you can catch as well as you wrangle snakes.”

I groaned and glared over at Dec who was stretching and grinning his face off. If I didn’t end up with some kind of a snake-themed nickname by the end of the day, it would be a miracle.

And everyone thought he was nothing more than a grump. Dec was a big old gossip is what he was. I blamed Kelsey for that. She brought out the fun-loving side of him again.

They were sickeningly in love, and it had happened just like it should have. Love at first sight. I mean, to be fair, everyone probably fell a little bit in love with the world’s biggest pop star on sight, but Dec had been hit by lightning.

Our dad had said that was exactly how it happened for him with mom too.

We should all be so lucky.

So far, no lightning strikes for me.

We ran drills, prepping for our next game, and I threw myself into the practice with some extra fervor. I needed to work through this adrenaline and a different sort of buzz under my skin. Each catch, each sprint, each play was a chance to burn off some of this weird energy.

Snakes and lightning strikes. What the actual fuck was going on in my head right now?

“Nice catch, Ev,” Hayes shouted as I jumped and snagged a pass out of the air. “You snaked right through those defenders.”

I flipped off my little brother, but I was also grinning, finally settling into practice. The thrill of the game I loved refocused my mind. This was where I belonged. On the field, with my team, doing what I did best. Well, besides modeling underwear and making women forget their names with my head between their legs.

The way she’d look up at me, bedhead of red curls, calling me her hero. The feel of her hands on my shoulders. The wink she’d throw my way as I left.

“Focus, Kingman.” Coach’s voice snapped me back to reality just in time to avoid getting beaned in the head with another pass.

Shit.

I shook my head, annoyed at myself. So much for that focus. I was distracted as shit, and it was ridiculous. Penelope was just a friend. A sisterly figure. Someone I absolutely should not be fantasizing about in any way, shape, or form.

And yet...

Nope. No. Absolutely not. If my head was going anywhere, it was not between Penelope’s deliciously thick thighs. Dammit. I needed my head in the game.

After practice I’d pull out my black book of a phone and get a date. Or better yet, pop down to Peachy Creek and find a bar or a club and find myself a whole bevy of chances to get struck by lightning. Or at least get laid.

Everyone knew Kingman men played better when we were getting laid. And I always played great.

“Head in the game, head in the game,” I muttered to myself as I jogged back to the sidelines for a water break before my next turn to run the play of the day. “Get it together.”

I was Everett Kingman, the guy who could charm any woman with a wink and a smile. The last thing I needed was to get hungup on the one woman who was absolutely, unequivocally off-limits.

I gulped down some water, splashed some on my face, and noticed the cheerleaders lining up for some new social media thing the PR team was doing with them. I could probably talk any one of them into a quickie in the locker room if I wanted to.

In fact, I had done it more than once in the past couple years playing for the Mustangs. A couple of them even gave me cute little waves. Football players and cheerleaders went together like peanut butter and jelly.

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