I wanted to post the Super Bowl chapter on Super Bowl Sunday, this needed to happen first though.

JE might've created the original characters, but this plot is all mine.

Carlos ended up staying in my office the whole day after that ridiculous meeting, refusing to leave until I did. Like I didn't know he was worried about me getting into it with Andrew again.

Andrew.

I really didn't know how to proceed on that. A well-timed media leak was one option, but felt lacking in integrity. Given I had absolutely zero evidence to support my suspicions though…

Then there was that Smith had ultimately made the decision to play, no matter where the encouragement came from. Yes, one could argue that he might've been impaired already and not really able to make a fully informed choice. But, if he was well enough to even discuss it with Andrew…

One thing was for sure. I had been becoming increasingly un-enamored with this business. I still loved the player interaction. Scoping out the next phenom was a thrill all on its own. As was guiding them through the minefield that was salary bargaining in the short tenured career of a professional athlete, making sure that they got paid what their unbelievable talent warranted. Watching them achieve the greatness they'd been aspiring to since they were tiny and someone handed them their first ball, bat or hockey stick was what I really loved doing. But my field had become increasingly more about what endorsements you can land for your clients. Not coincidentally, endorsements are where the real money is. For the athlete and the agent. Sports agents were only allowed a small percentage of a football player's salary as per NFL rules. But money from ad campaigns and such, the commission was far higher. I always did what my clients wanted and got them the big deals they were after. But the disillusionment was creeping up on me fast. Especially after seeing the truth on Andrew's face. He'd never had a good poker face, to me at least. I could always tell when he was bull-shitting. That the CEO of my company would encourage any client to do something as risky as playing with a suspected head injury to shore up a new bigger contract; thereby increasing his worth to companies looking to hock goods, was sleazy to the nth degree.

I had had a few ideas in the past about alternate careers, but worry for my clients had always kept me where I was. The ick factor I was experiencing lately was starting to surpass that concern though. I had two good friends at Kratos that I trusted enough to pass my clients on to. But, now probably wasn't the best time to think about it.

Once I got clear of the uncertainty about the Andrew mess, I'd put some real thought into it.

"Babe."

I looked up from my computer, surprised to find him leaning against the side of my desk and that it was already dark outside.

"You okay? You were grumbling and shaking your head."

"Yeah." I rubbed at my eyes and then remembered that I had layered on some courage in the form of eyeliner and two coats of mascara this morning. "Shit!" I dug through my bag for a mirror.

"What?"

"I can't find my mirror. Do I look like a raccoon?" He reached over and tilted my chin up with a single fingertip.

Why did my mouth just pucker?

He looked me over, "You look beautiful, Steph. Perfect."

And why the hell did I keep blushing around him lately? Seriously, my cheeks were burning. I was also smiling like an idiot.

"Um, thanks." I mean, what else are you supposed to say to that? At least he was grinning too.

"You want to come home with me?"

I felt my eyebrows head to my hairline. "You think one little compliment will get me out of this dress?"

He choked out a laugh, "No. Mom wanted you to come for dinner. She's making me ropa vieja, tostones, and pastelitos."

Okay, the combination of the promise of his mother's cooking, something I had only experienced a few times in my life, his voice when he was speaking Spanish (even in English most of the time) and the fact that his finger was still tilting my face up to his was messing with my head. "Yeah, of course," I responded without even a tiny bit of thought.

"Ready then?"

"What? Now?" I looked at my watch amazed that it was 7:00 already. "Holy crap. Yes, let's go." I reached under my desk and retrieved my, instruments of torture, I mean, boots. They were works of art but I swear that Christian Louboutin secretly hated women and did his level best to cripple people like me who were dumb enough to hand over a fortune to have a good pair of heels in their closet. I swiveled and slid back into them, trying not to whimper like a wounded puppy when I slid the zipper up. Standing, I got to enjoy the other benefit besides towering over my diminutive Chihuahua of a boss, being almost eye-level with Carlos. He was a giant Giant, so the novelty of that made the pain in my arches lessen greatly. The fact that Carlos seemed to always stand within my personal space when I had them on was a nice bonus too. Something I hate with anyone else. I never minded with him though.

The five-mile trek back to his condo only took an hour. A record at this time of day. The bumper to bumper haze of red lights all worth it when he opened the door and the heavenly smell of Maria's cooking oozed out. What was a little mystifying was seeing Juan and Maria throwing their coats on as we were taking ours off.

"Where are you going?" Carlos asked.

"We want to go home for a while and if Stephanie's here for the evening?" she looked over at me questioningly. I shrugged, I could finish my work here as easily as I could've at home. "Then we can come back in the morning." The way she finished her sentence left no doubt she thought I would still be here in the morning. My suspicions about the reason behind my dinner invitation and their convenient departure confirmed when I saw that she had set the table for two, complete with candles and wine.

She was subtle, huh?

I opened my mouth to say something, but Carlos was already closing the door behind them. Even from behind I could tell he was grinning. He'd always found it amusing that his parents wanted us to be an us.

He left one crutch by the door, started towards me and caught me around the waist, towing me with him to the dining room. "Come on while it's still hot."

You know how some men will get touchy and you feel like slapping their hands away and stomping on their foot? The way that his hand had automatically landed just below my waist, sitting kind of low on my hipbone, was really… nice. Even if he was just using me as his other crutch.

Sitting down, I looked over the feast she had set out for us and had to shake my head. Carlos was one of five mammoth brothers, the youngest about to graduate college in a few months. All of them played football, two in the NFL, two in the AFL and Ricky, the baby, for Ohio State. Only Ricky lived at home when he wasn't at school. Given the array of food that Maria had left out, it seemed that she'd never gotten out of the habit of cooking the mass quantities of food her progeny consumed. "Are your brothers coming over?" I half-joked.

He was already ladling mountains of food onto our plates. "No," he snorted, "Mom's told them that they're not allowed over until the cast comes off. Ever since Michael's nose was re-broken when it was almost healed, she gets super protective." He shook his head at the absurdity that a mom would be concerned about him getting his leg re-broken after a very long surgery.

By the time I had finished stuffing my face, I was feeling a whole lot like I should've gone home and gotten clothes to change into. My dress was fairly comfy, with a little bit of stretch, but after a second helping of pastelitos I was testing the tensile limits of the tiny bit of lycra incorporated into the fabric. Furthermore, why was the only way to loosen it the full length zipper going down the entire back of it?

"More?" He angled the wine bottle in my direction.

"I cannot put one more thing in my mouth or I will explode."

He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. "Yes, especially that."

He gave me his most innocent eyes. "What? I was going to suggest a cup of coffee."

I stood, trying to get some more room in my abdomen and patted his shoulder. "Sure you were."

It actually didn't matter if he said something flirty or sexy right now. I was so full the only thing I was in danger of doing was falling asleep. His virtue was safe for today. But, only if I didn't let myself think about those proofs he had brought up earlier.

Although, the pictures of him in the little red boxer-briefs were absolutely magnificent…

Dammit!

"Babe, you okay?"

Ugh, why was he being all observant right now while he was standing naked except for a three inch strategically placed piece of fabric behind my eyelids. It's not like he hadn't been wearing less, right in front of me, just days ago.

"I'm fine," I insisted. "Did I leave my stuff here the other day?"

He heaved himself up. "Yeah, Mom put it in my closet." He started down the hallway, using me as his other crutch again. "In here." He stopped at the built-in-dresser and pulled open the top drawer.

I rubbed my forehead, a little bewildered. "She gave me a drawer? In your closet?"

"No, I asked her to put your things there. You forgot them in the dryer the other day."

He gave me a drawer in his closet?

I didn't know what to say. "Oh."

"Go ahead and get changed if you want." He left to give me some privacy, his mood turning serious, and I didn't know what to think.

The contortionist style finagling to lower my zipper distracted me from that though, and had me wishing I had the ovaries to go out there and ask him for help. But, it just felt too stupid. I had gotten the damn thing zipped up this morning. Only I had to concede defeat and a sizable chunk of my frizzy curls when they got tangled in the zipper and hopelessly snarled.

Shit.

I tried to peel the dress off from the bottom, but between the poochy-I-just-ate-my-body-weight-in-cuban-food-belly, and the already snug fit, that was a no-go.

Shit.

Just get it over with, Stephanie.

As soon as I opened the door I could hear her irritating, strident voice.

Please be on speakerphone.

I knew she wasn't though. I walked down the hall and found them just inside the closed front door.

Jeanne. I guess she figured out that planes fly even on days she wasn't planning on using them.

She glared at me for a full minute, withering a bit when she realized that I really didn't give a shit about her or her dirty looks. "Get out," she barked.

"Hey!" Carlos yelled, getting pissed.

I laughed, just completely guffawed. Who the fuck did this asshole think she was? The laughing just incensed her more.

She turned on him. "Why is she here?"

"None. Of. Your. Business," he replied deliberately.

Her finger came up, about to poke him in the chest and just like that, I'd had enough. I stepped to his side and gave her my own glare. "If you touch him, I will have you arrested for assault and make sure the police walk you out front of the building for all the vultures to see."

She pointed that finger in my direction. "Her?" she looked me calculatingly up and down. Her lovely face dissolving into a disgusted grimace when she got to my hair. "Are you kidding me?"

Hey! My hair had looked good this morning but it was one of those nasty damp, drizzly, days out. Wasn't my fault curly hair and humidity don't mix.

Carlos sighed, "Why are you here, Jeanne?"

"I want to know why you're cheating on me! I think I deserve to know."

He snorted, "Are you kidding me?"

"No! I'm away on vacation and have to find out online that you and this, this…" she fluttered her fingers in my direction like I was too low even for an insult. "Are fucking behind my back. How long had this been going on?"

He was staring at her, mouth agape, like he'd never really seen her before. "You are really, actually crazy. Do you know that? You are nuts."

She continued like he hadn't said anything at all. "You could've had this." She pointed at her, admittedly, gorgeous body. "And you throw it all away for that?" She pointed at me again.

Man, my hand was just itching to slap her. He took my fingers in his and squeezed them gently. Telling me without words, he would handle it.

"Was my last message to you ambiguous in any way?" His voice held an edge that was a tad scary, even to me.

She continued on unheeded. "I mean; do you have any idea how many men I've turned down since we've been together? I'm talking huge stars here." She shook her head at her own apparent stupidity.

"You know what Jeanne? I have one thing left to say to you." That edge growing sharper. "You are the most disgusting, narcissistic, classless person I have ever met. You need to get the out of my house before I call someone to remove you."

"You're throwing me out? You are throwing me out?" She was absolutely flabbergasted. I don't even think she was acting. "How dare you!"

He dropped my hand, straightening to his full height. "How dare I? This is my fucking house, Jeanne." She opened her mouth, but he jumped in. "No, no. I listened to you lunatic ranting. Now it's my turn. You want to know why I'm finished with you? It's because, like I already said, you are without a doubt, the most pathologically selfish and spoiled asshole I've ever met. I've looked for some redeeming quality in you and I haven't found a single thing worth staying in a relationship with you for. This," he gestured to his leg, "didn't even warrant a fucking phone call from you! Sure, I got fifty texts waxing on about how my probably career-ending injury was effecting you."

I don't think anyone had ever called her out like this before. She looked genuinely upset. "But…"

"I'm not done. You don't deserve an explanation, but Steph doesn't deserve you spreading shit around about her. Stephanie was there when I got hurt. She dropped everything for the next three days and stayed with me the entire time, helping me get around and do things like, you know, eat. Do you know why?" She just glared at him. "Because she actually has the capacity to care for someone other than herself. Can you even understand that?"

She raised her finger again and I stepped between them. "You will not touch him. Do you understand me?"

She studied my face for a beat. I saw it dawn on her that it wouldn't go well for her if she tried it. She backed up a step and gathered her pride.

Opening the door, she turned to him, "I fucked Ryan Gosling at Cannes this year."

She's been in one too many movies if that's what she thought she should be saying here.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Hope he liked it more than I did."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. Mean, I know, but she deserved it, big time.

She huffed out a muffled scream, looking more like a steaming tea-kettle than any other human being I'd ever seen, and slammed the door behind her. We looked at each other wide-eyed for a minute before cracking up. "What the hell did you ever see in her?" I couldn't wrap my head around them as a couple still and they were already over.

He sighed and tried to calm his breathing. "I don't know. She seemed alright at first." I guess my face was displaying my skepticism, so he countered with, "What did you ever see in that douche Bobby?"

I followed him back to the table. "You didn't like him?" We had only ever been to one function together, some awards banquet, I think.

"No." He started grabbing plates, which I promptly took out of his hand. "He was a Cowboys fan."

My only response was to roll my eyes.

I was, however, acutely aware of him watching me clear the table. "What?" I finally asked.

"I thought you were going to change?"

"Oh, yeah. I was going to ask for your help."

That sexy smirk was back. "You need my help changing?"

I was in serious danger of straining my eye muscles at the rate I was rolling them. "My hair is stuck in the zipper. Like, you might have to get scissors and cut it out, kind of stuck."

"Come here, let me see."

He had sat in one of the dining chairs as I cleaned up and I had to do a weird back-first dip to let him have a look. He huffed a breath and tugged me down, settling my behind on his good leg.

Well then…

Oh, and that whole, nothing-he-did-could-possibly-turn-me-on-right-now thing was total bullshit. The second his warm fingers touched the skin on the nape of my neck, tingles shot everywhere and various sensitive body parts did some interesting things.

What? It's been a while, okay?

I had to bite my lip to not whimper as he gently tried to free my trapped hair. It was just too much contact. The way he had sat me down, I was leaning against his torso and between his breath hitting that spot on the side of my neck and the touching and the fact that he was actually pulling down my zipper, my hair finally free…

Fuck.

I jumped up when I felt his fingertips on the skin just above my bra strap, all flustered. "Thanks. I'm just gonna… go and um, change." It was a struggle to walk and not run to his room, but I managed.

I knew I should stay over tonight in case he needed help with something. After that though, I needed to put some distance here because this was becoming far more than a little crush for me.

If you need the mental image of him in his under-armor shorts google Rob Gronkowski red underwear. Gronk is quite pretty and is my body model for Manoso. But, we all know no actual, living breathing man is as beautiful as our Carlos. So let your imagination go. In my head he a lovely combo of actors Shemar Moore and Daniel Sunjata.

Please let me know what you thought?

Thanks for reading!

Love,

EA xoxo