In the beginning...
"What'll it be, sugar?"
The first time Colton had gone to Lita’s Cafe he was hooked. The small Marina del Rey eatery was only open for brunch three days a week, so Colton made a special effort to go as often as possible when he was in town. The nouveau Southern cuisine with a California twist wasn’t the only reason he kept coming back. The cafe’s owner, Lita Davies, was more of a draw than her food was. Unlike the women who flocked the team parties, or stalked the hotels where the team stayed during away games. There was something natural about Lita, down home even, which was unique in Southern California. There was nothing fake or plastic about the miniature, full-figured woman.
In the land of size zero stick figures, Lita was lush; full hips, generous thighs, high pillowy breasts that mesmerized any male within a mile of her presence. And she was completely unaware of how absolutely gorgeous she was. Even better, she had no idea who the hell he was. To Lita, he was just another regular to smile and chat with whenever he came in. She always cooked his meals herself after he praised her shrimp and grits, but it wasn’t the preferential treatment he was used to from those who knew who he was. She just appreciated her customers. And he appreciated her. Everything about her reminded him of home. Her rich, warm laughter and bright sunny smile warmed him down to his toes. It was the kind of thing a man could get used to.
"What's the special?" Colton didn't have to ask. It was right there on the board, but he liked to hear her talk. That soft Southern drawl was just sexy as hell and something he wanted to hear every fucking day of his life.
Lita smiled, refraining -- as always -- of pointing out he should be able to read it for himself. "Pecan crusted snapper, with basil grits, and fried green tomatoes." Was it just him or did her smile seem to light up the whole fucking room? All he could do was stare at her with what had to be a stupid grin on his face. Again, she said nothing, only smiled at him while he sat there letting his brain descend into mush as he looked at her. Her smile got wider and she stepped closer to him, laying that small hand on his shoulder. "Why don't I give you a moment? Do you want your usual iced tea to drink?"
"Uh, yeah," Colton managed, clearing his throat. "And the special. Sounds delicious." This time he smiled. "I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry. It sometimes takes folks a while to make up their minds." As always, Lita was completely oblivious to the havoc she created so effortlessly. She patted his shoulder, her fingers trailing along his back as she walked away to prepare his order. The tantalizing scent she left behind had him squirming in his chair, his jeans suddenly too tight over his crotch. How could one small woman have such a profound effect on him?
Women threw themselves at him on a daily basis. Being one of the NFL's most deadly quarterbacks had its perks -- and its pitfalls. But whenever he'd find himself in the sights of one of the fake, overblown money grubbing bimbos, he'd always picture Lita's face. It wasn't a conscious effort on his part. It simply happened. Then he'd make his way home and seek out her little cafe and sit here like a dolt, waiting on her company once more.
Well, that ended today. He was asking her out no matter how he tripped over his tongue. Today. The second she came back.
Colton found himself nervously jogging his leg and drumming his fingers on the table. His stomach churned. His palms sweated. God! He'd rather face the entire front line by himself! This was crazy; he was considered one of the country’s most eligible bachelors, yet he was terrified to ask out the owner of a local cafe. A woman who had no clue who he was, or the fact he had been voted one of the sexiest men alive three years running. Maybe he wasn’t her type. Shit, he was psyching himself out worse than a
"What'll it be, sugar?"
The first time Colton had gone to Lita’s Cafe he was hooked. The small Marina del Rey eatery was only open for brunch three days a week, so Colton made a special effort to go as often as possible when he was in town. The nouveau Southern cuisine with a California twist wasn’t the only reason he kept coming back. The cafe’s owner, Lita Davies, was more of a draw than her food was. Unlike the women who flocked the team parties, or stalked the hotels where the team stayed during away games. There was something natural about Lita, down home even, which was unique in Southern California. There was nothing fake or plastic about the miniature, full-figured woman.
In the land of size zero stick figures, Lita was lush; full hips, generous thighs, high pillowy breasts that mesmerized any male within a mile of her presence. And she was completely unaware of how absolutely gorgeous she was. Even better, she had no idea who the hell he was. To Lita, he was just another regular to smile and chat with whenever he came in. She always cooked his meals herself after he praised her shrimp and grits, but it wasn’t the preferential treatment he was used to from those who knew who he was. She just appreciated her customers. And he appreciated her. Everything about her reminded him of home. Her rich, warm laughter and bright sunny smile warmed him down to his toes. It was the kind of thing a man could get used to.
"What's the special?" Colton didn't have to ask. It was right there on the board, but he liked to hear her talk. That soft Southern drawl was just sexy as hell and something he wanted to hear every fucking day of his life.
Lita smiled, refraining -- as always -- of pointing out he should be able to read it for himself. "Pecan crusted snapper, with basil grits, and fried green tomatoes." Was it just him or did her smile seem to light up the whole fucking room? All he could do was stare at her with what had to be a stupid grin on his face. Again, she said nothing, only smiled at him while he sat there letting his brain descend into mush as he looked at her. Her smile got wider and she stepped closer to him, laying that small hand on his shoulder. "Why don't I give you a moment? Do you want your usual iced tea to drink?"
"Uh, yeah," Colton managed, clearing his throat. "And the special. Sounds delicious." This time he smiled. "I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry. It sometimes takes folks a while to make up their minds." As always, Lita was completely oblivious to the havoc she created so effortlessly. She patted his shoulder, her fingers trailing along his back as she walked away to prepare his order. The tantalizing scent she left behind had him squirming in his chair, his jeans suddenly too tight over his crotch. How could one small woman have such a profound effect on him?
Women threw themselves at him on a daily basis. Being one of the NFL's most deadly quarterbacks had its perks -- and its pitfalls. But whenever he'd find himself in the sights of one of the fake, overblown money grubbing bimbos, he'd always picture Lita's face. It wasn't a conscious effort on his part. It simply happened. Then he'd make his way home and seek out her little cafe and sit here like a dolt, waiting on her company once more.
Well, that ended today. He was asking her out no matter how he tripped over his tongue. Today. The second she came back.
Colton found himself nervously jogging his leg and drumming his fingers on the table. His stomach churned. His palms sweated. God! He'd rather face the entire front line by himself! This was crazy; he was considered one of the country’s most eligible bachelors, yet he was terrified to ask out the owner of a local cafe. A woman who had no clue who he was, or the fact he had been voted one of the sexiest men alive three years running. Maybe he wasn’t her type. Shit, he was psyching himself out worse than a
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