When I Need You (Need You #4)(15)

For the first time I gauged him as competition. Good-looking guy with dark hair and olive skin that indicated his Italian ancestry. Dude was a total bro, built like a freight train with the smarts to back up his ambition. But he was a player, so it annoyed me that he thought he had the right to warn me off. "Something going on between you and Rowan?"

He snorted. "I've known her since her senior year in college. She's like my little sister so naturally I'm gonna warn off a guy like you."

A guy like me who'd lived like a freakin' monk the past year. After I returned home from the hospital, several of my hookups vied for a chance to "help me out." But they started to equate-confuse?-my need for a quick bout of sex with a long-term commitment, so I put a halt to all of it. No dating. No clubs. No team parties. While a small part of me missed the rush of locking eyes with a woman, knowing I could have her on her knees or on her back with just a sexy smile, the truth was random sexual encounters weren't enough. In my lonely self-reflection, I realized I wanted more.

"Got nothin' to say to that, Rocket?"

I shook off my melancholy. "Give me some credit. She violates all three of my rules."

He tried-and failed-to intimidate me with silence. Finally he sighed. "Fine. I'll get you in. But all you'd have to do is give your name at the door and you'd be golden."




       
         
       
        
"Except I don't want anyone to know I'm there."

Dante's eyes widened. "Not cashing in on your celebrity? You are serious about the educational-pursuit angle. I thought The Rocket loved being mobbed."

I used to. Now I avoided it whenever possible. "Just get me in and I'll blend."

He clapped me on the back. "Buddy, you're six foot five, built like the pro football player you are and your ugly mug has been in the news since you were sixteen years old-you don't know how to blend."

I flashed my teeth at him. "Watch me."

• • •


An older sister with a love of theater had served me well. Not only did I rock Halloween costumes, I'd learned that a couple of adjustments could change my appearance-or at least other people's perception. I left the dark blond scruff on my face, tucked my hair up in an old U of M ball cap and slipped on a pair of glasses with clear lenses that I kept around to go incognito.

I wore a stained pair of black sweatpants, the elastic bottoms pulled up below my knees, and a pair of white tube socks shoved down to the tops of my hiking boots. My teammate Devonte had left a size 6XXL quilted flannel shirt here a few weeks back. Defensive ends were massive so the shirt was oversized even for a guy my size. Shuffling with my shoulders hunched and my head down, I appeared a few inches shorter.

When I squinted in the foggy bathroom mirror, I felt confident no one-not even my own mother-would recognize me in this getup.

I climbed into my Hummer. Halfway to the campus MOM popped up on my digital screen. She'd keep calling if I didn't answer, so I accepted the call. "What did I do wrong that warrants a phone call from my beautiful mother on a Friday afternoon?"

"Why do you assume you are in error?"

"Because I've been home a few days and haven't seen you?" She'd ignored the flattery, which wasn't a good sign.

"I suppose I should be happy that you made time for your brothers."

"You and Dad are welcome to work out with us at five in the morning," I offered.

"When you are up with the hens, there is so very much of the day left to contact people, yah?"

That had backfired on me. I didn't even point out that she'd mixed up hens with roosters.

"You need a personal assistant to organize things. Then when my youngest son doesn't have time in his busy schedule for his mama, I can blame her and not feel like meddlesome botherer."

Once my mother got past slathering on the guilt, she was sweet, funny and thoughtful. "I'm sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?" 

"Help me with two things. First, attend the Lund family brunch on Sunday. Bring a date if you wish."

I deflected on the date. "I'll be there."

"Second, you've considered my proposition for your Lund Cares Community Outreach project this year, yah?"

"Your suggestion is not a good fit for me. I told you that."

"Since when is football not a good fit for you, Jensen Bernard Lund, tight end for the Minnesota Vikings?" she demanded.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Since I'm on the injured reserve list and if I damage myself in an activity that is not directly related to football practice or training with my coaches' approval, I'm in violation of my contract."