“Hey, Stone! Come over here, son. I’d like to introduce you to a coupla people.”

I pivot around to see Aaron Andrews waving me over. I fight the urge to turn back around and pretend I didn’t hear him. Not like I could really do that, but it’s certainly more appealing than trying to find something to talk about with a man who’s so far out of my league, it’s not even funny.

Some people would say that I’m in the same league, but it’s not true. I’m still a small town boy at heart. Despite the fame and the money—and yes, even my cocky attitude—I’ve worked hard to stick to my values for the most part.

“Yes, sir,” I greet, keeping my tone as casual as I can. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”

“I’m glad you could come,” he says, waving his hand toward his son. “You remember Will?”

I’ve met Will, talked to him even, but never in a formal setting such as this. As usual, Will Andrews looks ridiculously like his father when he’s decked out in a suit. Same dark blond hair that’s thinning at the temples, the same pragmatic hazel eyes, same pointed nose. Probably the spitting image of the older man when Aaron was his age, which I guess to be in his early thirties, possibly early forties.

I clasp Will’s hand when he offers, shaking firmly. “Good to see you again,” I say.

“Same to you. Nice game yesterday.”

“Thanks.”

 “I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law.” Aaron nods toward the woman beside Will. “Eve, Jason Stone.”

Eve smiles shyly up at me.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“And I’d like you to meet my daughter, Savannah,” Aaron states.

I notice, like his father, Will likes to be front and center because the elusive Savannah seems to be hidden behind him. I’m mentally preparing myself for a female version of Aaron to step around him as I patiently wait, feeling somewhat awkward staring at Will.

I think Aaron notices that his son is hogging the limelight at the same time I do because he nudges Will out of the way and makes room for…

Holy.

Mother.

Of God.

Well, hello again, hot chick from the bar, and most recently my bed.

I pause, praying like fuck I did not just say that out loud.

When no one glares at me, I assume it was only in my head. Thank God.

I don’t mean to stare, but it’s not easy to do considering this is the same no-name woman from the bar who rocked my fucking world on that very same night. The same woman who kissed me like there was no tomorrow, fucked me like I was the last man on earth, and slipped out of my bed undetected.

I’m thinking perhaps there was a reason for that. For one, she’s Aaron Andrews’s daughter. There’s no doubt she knew exactly who I was when she met me.

I should probably be angry, but I’m not.

Regardless, the woman is even more stunning tonight than she was the other night and that’s saying something considering that short black dress she’d been wearing has played a role in the countless thoughts I’ve had about her since that very day. Plus, I might’ve jacked off a few times thinking about the way she moaned and writhed as I plowed her pussy for hours.

Yeah. I probably shouldn’t lead with that.

I swallow hard, while my lungs attempt to reverse their position in my chest. The first thing I notice is that this woman looks absolutely nothing like her father. Or her brothers.

“Nice to officially meet you, Jason.”

“You can call me Stone. Everyone does.”

You can call me Stone? What am I? A moron?

Of all the things I could’ve said, that’s what I chose for my second chance with the absolute most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. Considering I hadn’t caught her name, nor did I manage to exchange phone numbers, I was beginning to think there was no hope of ever seeing her again.

Honestly, I don’t see this going up from here.

Savannah Andrews regards me from beneath long, thick eyelashes. Her light green eyes are filled with amusement when she meets my gaze head on. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s remembering the other night and the fact that she knew exactly who I was while I had no clue she was the owner’s daughter.

Then again, it explains why she looked familiar. Not that she looks anything remotely like her picture on the team’s website.

Sneaky woman.

Some guys would probably be a little offended that she held something back like that. Not me. I happen to admire her for it. She played me and I can honestly say, that doesn’t usually happen.

“Stone,” she corrects, brushing a lock of dark chestnut hair over her shoulder. “I’ve heard nice things about you.”

Nice things? Really?

My brain runs through a list of things the media has claimed about me. Some of them might be “nice”, but not all of them, I’m sure.

I want to ask her what she’s heard, or more importantly, what she remembers of that night we spent together, but manage to hold my tongue and nod. It’s not hard considering I’m having to make an effort not to drool because…

Holy.

Mother.

Of God.