She bent down to take Jimbo off his lead and I groaned out loud as the denim tightened enticingly across her backside. She was going to be the death of any kind of restraint I might’ve had.

The dog yipped and pranced around as she turned and jogged several yards away. Jimbo jumped around her knees and had her laughing as she chucked the ball in my direction like a pro. The dog chased it through the air as I caught it with one hand. There was a little sting behind it as it connected with my palm. She did have a pretty good arm still.

I tossed the ball back at her far more gently than I would have if I was playing for real and laughed at the silly puppy as he zoomed back between us, barking his little head off and trying to jump in the air to catch the ball with each pass. It was like a giant game of keep away.

“I remember when you told me you were going to try out for the team.” She huffed a little because I purposely tossed the ball a little over her head so I could watch all her best parts bounce and her shirt ride up on her toned tummy. “You sounded so sad about it.”

I had to run to the side as she retaliated and I almost tripped over the dog as he got right under my feet. I scowled at her as she laughed and put a little more heat behind the next toss.

“I didn’t want to. I was just tall and big for my age. Everyone kept telling me I needed to. Your dad asked Poppy to mention it to me and the next thing I know I’m signing up for the junior varsity team and then starting on varsity a couple of months later. I never even thought about being an athlete before then. No one was as surprised as I was that I was good at it.”

She chucked the ball back at me and it hit me right in the gut. I grunted a little and bent down to pet the dog as he lay at my feet.

“You were the best. Everyone said so.” She sounded wistful about it.

I lobbed the ball back to her halfheartedly. “Maybe, but being the best at something you don’t love makes it a chore and no fun. Plus it still wasn’t enough to get me what I thought I wanted.”

“My sister.”

I wasn’t going to lie to her, so I nodded. “I don’t think I had a clue what I was f**king doing back then.”

She sighed. “Me either. I knew I had to leave, had to get away from my dad, but I didn’t really plan past that. The guy I left Loveless with left me in Phoenix after taking all my money and my cell phone. I ended up almost homeless and totally broke.”

I swore at her revelation and fell back a step as she really heaved the ball at me in her resurrected anger.

“I got a job waitressing, slept on the couch of this girl I met at the restaurant until her creep of a boyfriend tried to come on to me and she caught him in the act. Of course she blamed me and put me out on my ass, so I had to scramble again. I took a job at a strip club because it was the only work I could find on such short notice.”

I dropped the ball and gaped at her in surprise as she smiled sadly at me.

“A girl had to do what she had to do in order to survive, Rowdy. I’m not proud of it but I did dance for about six months. While I was there I met this guy that ran a burlesque club in Reno. He offered me a job with more clothes and better pay, so I took him up on it. He told me my looks were going to make me a hit and he was right.” She shook her head a little ruefully.

I didn’t know what to say, so I tossed her back the ball and she hopped around to make the catch because I was way off the mark after listening to her recount her days after she left me.

“I was in Reno for less than a month when I got asked to be in a hot-rod magazine photo shoot. I said yes and then next thing I knew I was getting all kinds of offers to model—tattoo magazines, trade shows, conventions, and retro-clothing websites. I just had to look pretty and I got paid pretty well for it, and I got to keep my clothes on for the most part. It was fun. I traveled, met cool people, but it wasn’t enough. Being a pretty face can’t last forever and I wanted something to be proud of, something I could put my name on.”

She didn’t throw the ball back at me, instead she cradled it to her chest and pushed her sunglasses up on the top of her head. “That’s why I got into the clothing line, why I wanted to be hands-on in the tattoo shop in Vegas. I wanted to leave a mark.”

“You can do that here, probably more so.” My voice was soft and I wasn’t sure if she even heard me.

She suddenly snapped the ball hard at me and I caught it with an “oof.” It was quickly followed by a grunt as her smaller body barreled into my surprised frame as she took me to the ground in a really effective tackle. She straddled my waist and put her hands on my chest so that she was hovering over the top of me and looking down directly into my stunned eyes as she reached up to pull my sunglasses off of my nose.

“I want to. Leave a mark, I mean. I want to leave one on the shop for Phil and because I think you guys are doing his legacy proud.” She leaned down a little and I knew there was no way she could miss the hard ridge that she was currently sitting astride. If the football wasn’t trapped between us we would practically be lying on top of one another. “I want to leave a mark on you as well, Rowdy.”

I grunted and shifted the ball out of the way so I could wrap one of her braids around my hand and tow her toward me. “You did that a long time ago, Salem.”

She shook her head side to side and bit her lip again. She was going to kill me with that. It took her from sinfully sexy to sweet and soft.

“Not a scar, not a wound . . . a mark. Something good. I want you to have good memories of me like I have of you.”

I got her close enough that I could get my teeth in the plump curve of her lip where she had just been biting it. She groaned into my mouth and I felt her fingers curl in the fabric of my T-shirt.

“Spend the weekend with me, Salem.”

Her obsidian eyes went a shade darker if that was possible. This time there was no indecision. Poppy was nowhere to be seen because all Salem could see was me and the desire I had for her flooding my gaze as I pleaded with her through my eyes.

“Okay.” Her voice was just a husky whisper but it was the sweetest thing I has ever heard.

I had to tell her, “Nice tackle, by the way.”

She pressed a laughing kiss to my mouth and climbed to her feet.

“I’ve been waiting to tackle you for years.”

Good . . . because I couldn’t wait to return the favor and I was refusing to think about what it was going to do to me when this stopped being fun, when this stopped being her new adventure, and she decided it was time to move on. She was here for a reason, she was here for me, and I fully planned on enjoying her while it lasted. I already had marks from her, I would surely survive the next set she left . . . especially if they included claw marks on my back from all the things I was planning on doing to her in bed.