Page 1 of My Secret Bandit

“Hey!”Quincy’shandswipedacross my sight, but I barely noticed it. My attention stolen. Held hostage by the woman who’d just walked in.

It’d been a long time since a woman piqued my interest. Burned by a heartless black widow, women weren’t on my radar. My focus stayed on my career and my team. Striving to give them the best of me. On the field and off. In season and out. I was the reliable one, the role-model, fucking Debbie Do-Good just because that’s how my parents raised me.

And every day was smooth sailing.

Except this one.

It was probably my imagination, but this light glowed around her as she moved. Like a moth in the night, I let it draw me in.

I couldn’t tell where the light came from. Maybe her smile as it spread across her lips when she waved to her friends. Or maybe it was just a part of her, her presence as she floated toward the booth, tucking long, dark hair behind her ear.

She was beautiful, and it wasn’t the cute dress she used to hide her curves or the features adorning her face alone. It was everything.

I didn’t know shit about auras, but I’d bet my entire career hers was one of the good ones.

Maybe even the best one.

My eyes followed the line of her neck as her head went back to laugh. Long and smooth. I imagined I could spend an eternity with my lips pressed against it and never get my fill.

“Are you having a stroke? Yo, Mattie! Fuck it. I’m calling Xander.” Quincy’s voice cut in, and I snapped my head to him at the mention of Xander. Mr. Fix-it, my best friend, my brother. To the rest of the team, he was the one they called when they needed a favor, or some serious shit was going down. He always showed up, cleaned their messes, bailed them out, and made their pretty worlds right again.

“Do not,” I warned.

Q’s a good dude, a great friend and teammate. He’d never suggest calling Xander unless he thought something was wrong, but not only was Inotin crisis, I didn’t want to listen to Xander’s giggling if he thought I was having a meltdown over some chick in a bar. I damn sure didn’t want to hand him and Mom any ammo for their gossip sessions.

Besides,Iwas the one who invited Quincy to come out after practice. I was the one who suddenly couldn’t stand the way my house echoed when it was just me surrounded by emptiness. I should be giving him my undivided attention, but I couldn’t.

“If you keel over in this restaurant—,” His voice drifted off again as my attention turned back to the addicting burst of light and its host.

A petite blonde pulled her toward the dance floor. Little by little, a sweet smile replaced her nervousness. Their fingers laced, and the blonde dragged her closer toward the center. They swayed together, hips moving to the beat as the lights above highlighted them in different shades.

“Shit!” Quincy stood, shoving his chair back. I glanced over at him. As he looked down at his phone, a tight expression covered his face.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I gotta get home. I forgot Tasha’s parents were coming to visit tonight.” He paused. “You’re okay, right? I can call Xander or Tash. Figure something out if you need me to stay.” Worry coated his eyes.

Fuck.

Guilt spilled over me. Soon we’d be going nonstop and here I was, stealing precious minutes away from his family.

“No, go ahead. I’m fine. I’m gonna head out too,” I reassured him. “Thanks for coming. Tell Tash you’re late ’cause of me and I’ll make it up to her. Just name her price.”

“You know we got you. But hey! Call if you need me,” he said, worry still heavy in his gaze. Maybe it was the dad in him, but Quincy was beyond caring. Almost to a fault. Prime example, he came with me instead of going home because he knew I didn’t want to be alone without me even having to say the words.

As Quincy left, the waitress came over. I paid our tab, glancing at her just long enough to watch her bat fake eyelashes at me and shove her chest out, her smile trying to toe that delicate line between innocent and seductive.

When she came back with the receipt,Call Mewas scribbled across the bottom next to a phone number and a smiley face.

Poor thing never stood a chance, though, and not in theI’m a dickhead pro athlete who only dates supermodelskind of way. I had legitimate reasons for ignoring her advances. For one, she was way too young. I’m guessing fresh out of high school young. Two, she was an asshole to the only elderly couple in the place. And finally, she wasn’t the woman twirling around on the dance floor right now.

Would it be too weird? Some random ass dude asking to cut in on her and her friend’s dance?

Four years ago, it would’ve been a no-brainer. No second-thought. If I wanted something, I went for it. Just like the waitress, something as simple as a smile had girls doing backflips to leave with me. I was never into living that player role, though. In came Stephanie. She was pretty and persistent, and it was easy at first. Until she used my name and career to build her own but saw no issue with that. While I should’ve been celebrating something as badass as being named Defensive Rookie of the Year, I was being screamed at because I forgot to post a photo of her promoting some bullshit face cream on a social media account I’d rather not have.

A chill shivered down my spine as I replayed that night. Stephanie was always an excellent reminder to stay focused. Don’t get caught up in things beyond football or family.

I sighed, taking one last glance at the woman who captured my attention the moment she walked through the door. My chest squeezed again. Only this time, it wasn’t caused by the soft rays of light emanating from her smile or the generous curves of her body. It was the roar of laughter that came from the corner of the bar; the fingers pointed in her direction and the heartbroken expression that paled her beautiful face.

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