Darcy, Darcy, Darcy. The name I should have wiped from my mind nearly two years ago. Her brother, and my assistant captain, has repeatedly warned she’s off-limits to a guy like me—a playboy bound to bed her one night and break her heart the next morning—an opinion shared by her stepdad, who also happens to be my coach. I can see why they don’t want their goalie anywhere near her. My reputation with women isn’t exactly unblemished. Except, they shouldn’t judge what they don’t understand, and neither should my girl. Okay, she’s not technically my girl yet, but that’s just…
I read. And quilt. A lot.