Kade Jameson McKnight.
The sun was backlighting him like some kind of angel except she knew different. If he had a halo, there were horns holding it up.
Her vision went as hazy as a bathroom mirror after a hot shower but the first thing that came into focus were two deep sea-green eyes staring at her beneath a bed of dark lashes that she knew kissed his cheek when his lids were closed. As the fog dissipated, she noticed that his thick, dark hair was a little longer and more unruly than he normally wore it. And there was a significant amount of stubble covering his square jaw giving him a bad boy edge, not that he needed any help in that category.
He wore a faded black cotton shirt that molded to his Adonis chest like he was shrink-wrapped in it. His jeans were faded and worn in all the right places. Black boots and a leather wristband that he’d worn since she’d given it to him at sixteen completed the holy-hotness package. Slung over his shoulder was a large gym bag, which she knew was his idea of luggage.
When the entire picture became clear her mind short-circuited. Her arms and legs began shaking like leaves. Her lungs were trying to take in oxygen but she felt like there was none to be had. And her mind was spinning like a top on an ice rink.
She didn’t know if she wanted to hit him or hug him. Or both.
In an effort to play it cool, she tried to sound detached and unimpressed at his arrival as she asked, “What are you doing here?”
Her question sparked a smile that spread on his handsome face and the sight caused her heart to leap in her chest as a wave of tingles spread through her from head to toe.
Ali didn’t understand how she could both love someone and hate them at the same time. But there was no doubt…she did.
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Charming Cupid
Steamy Weekends Book One
CHAPTER 1
Coop
“Siri, what are the causes and symptoms of erectile dysfunction?”
Googling impotence was not the way I’d planned on starting my night, but there I was. Sitting in my truck in the parking lot of a fancy hotel, doing exactly that hoping to understand the only explanation I could come up with for what was going on with me.
An automated voice filled the cab. “Erectile dysfunction is the inability to get or maintain an erection long enough for intercourse.”
It wasn’t that I couldn’t get it up and keep it up. I had no issues handling my business on the solo tip but Mr. Happy just wasn’t playing well with others these days.
“Risk factors for erectile dysfunction include medical conditions. Specifically diabetes or a heart condition.”
I had just had a physical, including a full blood panel, six months prior for insurance purposes when my company, Athletic Wellness, went public. I was happy to report I am healthy as a horse.
“Tobacco use,” Siri continued.
Never smoked a day in my life.
“Obesity.”
I stood six foot two and was one hundred and ninety pounds of lean muscle and only nine percent body fat. My BMI was twenty-four, which was textbook perfection.
“Injuries causing damage of nerves or arteries that control erections.”
I paused, taking a moment to consider this one. I’d taken a few knees to the groin on and off the football field. Growing up with seven brothers I’d endured my fair share of nut jabs both accidental and not so accidental, but those had all occurred years ago. I dismissed that symptom as well since I’d only started having issues the past year.
“Drug and alcohol use,” Siri stated as if she was talking about the weather. “Medications. Antidepressants. Antihistamines. Or those used to treat chronic conditions.”
Other than the occasional Claritin when my hay fever kicked up, I was pharmaceutical-free. I’d never been one to mess around with recreational drugs and besides a cold one on a hot day or while watching the Cowboys, I wasn’t a drinker.
“Stress, depression, anxiety.”
Besides being stressed that I no longer had a sex drive, I had no worries. Professionally, my life couldn’t be going better. I had a thriving business and had just signed a partnership with a premier sports therapy company. Two patents that had been pending for the past eighteen months had been recently awarded to me. One was a cream that would be used primarily by athletes and their trainers that induced cell restoration and endurance and the other was a massage lotion infused with vitamins and healing essential oils for maximum relaxation and muscle recovery to be used in spas.
Since my early retirement from the NFL at the age of twenty-five, I hadn’t stopped. Growing up, my only dream was to play professional football, but that dream was cut short when I blew out my knee after a particularly brutal sack. But I hadn’t wasted a second feeling sorry for myself. I picked up the pieces and threw myself into building my own business.
I’d also landed several lucrative endorsement deals thanks to the genes my parents had blessed me with. I was the spitting image of my father, Walker Briggs, who was known not only in our small town of Wishing Well, Texas, but all of Clover County. Depending on the age range of observers I’d heard him described as a young Robert Redford or a Thelma-and-Louise-era Brad Pitt. Movie star good looks, with a farm-strong physique. Both of us shared brown hair, strong jaws, and dimples, but I did not have his deep yellow eyes. Instead, I had one crystal blue eye and one emerald green eye. My unique eyes had been described as the cherry on top of my sex-appeal pie in print.
I’ve landed on sexiest athlete lists beside David Beckham and Cristiano Ronaldo more times than I could count. It had been five years since I played pro-ball, but I was recognized more now than I ever had been when I was the starting quarterback for the Long Beach Legends. My latest cologne campaign had trended number one on Twitter for close to twenty-four hours.
I had close to a million Instagram followers, which I could once again thank my parents for since I knew that at least ninety-eight percent were only there for the shirtless pics. And I’d just been offered an on-air job as a sports anchor at ESPN, which I could thank my mother for. I might’ve inherited my dad’s looks and athletic ability, but I owed my quick wit and charm to one miss Dolly Briggs. My mom could’ve ruled the world, but instead she’d been busy ruling, or at least wrangling her nine children.
Children. I’d always thought they’d be in my future, but now…now I wasn’t sure.
Professionally, I was on top of the world. But personally, my life felt stagnant.
It was as if I’d been happily four-wheeling on the track of life, taking jumps, speeding over hills, splashing in puddles and then, bam. I got stuck in the mud. I was pressing the gas and the tires were spinning but I wasn’t going anywhere.
Maybe it was that I just turned thirty, I thought.
Or maybe it was because I’d had a front row seat to four of my eight siblings falling in love and finding their people in the span of two years. I lifted my arms and scrubbed my hands over my face. Whatever it was, it was obviously messing with my head, the one on top of my shoulders. And that, in turn, was messing with my other head. The one below the belt.
I was convinced that I must have some sort of “conditional impotence.”
I’d been on an unintentional, unplanned sexual sabbatical. Not because I was saving myself or practicing abstinence. I wanted to have sex. My body just wasn’t cooperating. And that was not like me. I was known for a lot of things. I’d heard people describe me in a lot of different ways.