I’ve always had a volatile temper. Once, in second grade, my father had to come pick me up from school early from the principal’s office. I’d kicked over a bookshelf in class because the pudding cup was missing from my lunchbox. Some might say that’s an overreaction, but hey. When you’re expecting chocolate, the absence of chocolate is unacceptable. That’s just a basic fact.
Do I not have every right to slap this cocky bastard?
Who demands a wife as a contingency to a sports contract?
That is insane.
Also insane? The fact that when I walked into the conference room and saw the relentlessly gorgeous point guard—the one who haunted my dreams last night—my first reaction was excitement. It started in the crown of my head and traveled all the way down to my toes, leaving a trail of fire be
