Which wasn’t even remotely fair to Mollie. She was young, yes. And hot, definitely. But if anyone even tried to insinuate that she was somehow responsible for the end of his marriage, he’d be showing them exactly how cowboy he could be…with his fists.

“Oh, it’s even more complicated than that,” Cole said as he opened the door to the restaurant so the rest of the group could precede him. “Ex-wife made an appearance the other day.”

Jackson winced. “Don’t remind me.”

Cassidy shot him a glance. “Drama?”

“You have no idea,” Jackson replied darkly as they followed the hostess to their table.

Jackson’s mouth watered as he passed a table where a woman was cutting into a juicy rib-eye. “If I’d known this is what your lunches were like, I’d have tagged along weeks ago.”

“They’re not usually,” Jake said as they sat around a round table. “Cassidy’s just trying to butter you up so you’re extra chatty when Cole and Penelope interview you.”

Cassidy only lifted a shoulder as he opened his menu. “That’s basically true.”

Jackson glanced around the table. “So…everyone knows about that, huh?”

“Are you kidding?” Cole said. “They’ve been trying to hijack my story.”

“Calm down, princess. Nobody’s trying to hijack your story,” Lincoln said.

“Well, you’re not, because you hate football. But everyone else has given me so much uninvited input, I’m thinking of putting a suggestion box outside my door.”

“Do I even want to know what sort of shit people want to hear about?” Jackson asked, taking a sip of water.

“Um…”

Cole glanced around the table at everyone but Jackson.

“Come on, man. If we’re going to do this, I’ll be in a much better mood if I’m prepared.”

“I’m thinking this needs to be a drinking lunch,” Jake muttered. “Cassidy, what do you say we pretend we’re in Mad Men and do a three-martini lunch?”

Their boss shot a quick glance at Jackson. “Yeah. Booze might be good.”

“Oh, come on,” Jackson said, his patience at an end. “Just lay it on me. What is it that everyone wants to know? Why I had my friend’s wife with me in the car the day of the accident? How many of those women I actually slept with? If my bedroom tastes really are as depraved as my sex kittens claim?”

There was a moment of silence before Cole cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. Pretty much all of that.”

Jackson wanted to rub his eyes in defeat. It was nothing he hadn’t seen coming. Nothing he wasn’t prepared for. Hell, that was the entire reason he was doing this. To set the record straight. It just fucking sucked that he’d given so many years to a sport he loved as much as life itself, but all it took was a juicy sex scandal and nobody even remembered that he knew how to play.

“Okay, here’s a preview. Angie was in the car with me because hers was in the shop and she wanted to show her husband—my teammate—the sonogram of their twins. I’ve never even met a single one of the women who came forward claiming hands-on knowledge of my dick, and as far as my bedroom tastes, the only person familiar with those while I was married was my wife. Got it?”

Nobody responded for several moments until Lincoln started doing a dramatic slow clap, breaking the tension.

Jake punched his shoulder. “Good on you, man. Both for the moral high ground and for telling us all to basically shove it.”

Jackson glanced around the table, expecting to see cynical skepticism and finding nothing but acceptance. They believed him. He looked down at his water glass, hoping none of them would realize what their simple faith in him meant.

A cute blond waitress came to take their order. True to Lincoln’s word, he ordered a salad. True to Jake’s word, he ordered a martini as well as a filet. Jackson went for whisky and Coke—he figured he’d earned it—and a bone-in rib-eye.

“You know, Burke,” Cassidy said as he handed his menu to the server after ordering a steak sandwich and a glass of wine, “you can back out of the interview at any time.”

“The hell he can!” Cole said.

Cassidy shot him a warning glance before turning back to Jackson. “I’m serious. Cole and Penelope are going to be all up in your personal life for this. If you’re not ready—”

“I’m ready.”

Cassidy frowned. “You’re sure? Because the thing with the ex and the sister—”

Jackson felt a flash of rage. “Hold on. There will be no questions about Mollie during the interview.” He glanced at Cole. “Are we clear on that?”

Cole’s eyes were apologetic. “I need to ask about Madison. The breakup of America’s sweethearts is a pretty big part of the story.”

“Fine. I’ll talk about Madison. I’ll talk about the women. But one mention of Mollie Carrington and that’s the end of the conversation. Got it?”

Cole nodded. “Got it.”

“Whew,” Lincoln said, pulling at his shirt. “Getting a little heated in here.”

Jake leaned forward with a friendly smile. “So…do we get to ask about Mollie off the record?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Jackson muttered.

“Come on, dude, spill. Not for the sake of selling magazines, but because you look fucking ready to explode. What the hell is going on with you?”