SHE LEAVES ME unbalanced, which doesn't happen often. She's so damn beautiful in a non-conforming kind of way. It's like she's unpolished and rough around the edges. It makes her sexy as hell. There have been a lot of women since I went pro but none has had this effect on me. I do my best to pay attention to the road so I don't drive on top of another car when she wiggles a bit and brings her lipstick out of her back pocket. This time it's bright pink. I use the truck's brake a little too forcefully at the light. She glances at me before pulling down the visor and flipping up the mirror.

Christ.

I'm heading to my mother's house with a hard dick. Music. We need music. I hit the button on the steering wheel and Hank Williams Jr. fills the cab.

"Who's this?" she asks after running the tip of the lipstick across her sexy mouth.

That question deserves the quick "you've got to be kidding me" glance I give her. "Who do you listen to?" I ask without answering her ridiculousness.

"My favorite is Lady Gaga but Pink is up there. Country-western has never been my thing."

"You're in New Mexico now, so your 'thing' needs to change." Lady Gaga, I think to myself. I wouldn't even know what station to pull up.

"Has anyone ever told you you're bossy?"

I give her another glance and my eyes go straight to her damn pink lips. "Comes with the territory," I say and look back at the road.

"I get it. The quarterback thing and all but I bet you've been bossy your whole life." She thinks she has me figured out and she's in for a rude awakening when she arrives at my mother's house.

One country song leads to another and her foot begins tapping against the floorboard. It makes her leg bounce, and when I glance over, her boobs are doing the same thing. This entire evening is a bad idea and I have my younger sister to blame.

My mother called this morning and told me to invite Jordan. It didn't matter how many objections I threw out, my mom's voice got firmer and she refused to take no for an answer. Me, bossy? If so, I come by it naturally.

I exit the freeway and we leave the city behind. I had a house built for Ty and my mom when we first moved here. I felt bad for uprooting them from California when I took the contract with the Pronghorns. I chose a plot of land outside the city because Mom and Ty prefer the countryside. Mom also insisted on decorating one of the five bedrooms for me so I could stay over when I wanted. She has a room set aside for my older sister, who also has her own place in the city.

My mom has always considered Sunday a family day. If you know what's good for you, you arrive on time and worship her cooking. My mom and sisters begin working in the kitchen early on Sundays, so Steph drives herself over. Mom banned me from the kitchen after my last failed attempt at spaghetti. The smell of burned noodles and garlic bread lingered in the house for a week or so, she told me. I have no problem doing dishes. Ty and I have a system, so it goes quickly.

I pull into the circular driveway. "It's beautiful," Jordan whispers.

The front yard has levels. Each with different types of vegetation in various stages of bloom. On the left of the stairs that lead up to the front door, water flows down a channel to the ground level. There's a small pond at the bottom and its primary purpose is to pump the water back up so it's in constant motion. At night, lights embedded in the concrete light up the waterfall. As gifts go, this house for Mom originated from years of hard work. Her hard work. Before Ty came into her life, she raised us on her income alone and worked extra hours so we could do the things that mattered to us most. For me, that was football. Even when she had to miss games because of work, she sat me down and had me go through the entire game for her. She made it possible for me to live my dream.

Before we climb half the steps, the front door flies open and Candice screams, "She's here, she's here." Candice is wearing one of her ever present sports jerseys and short-shorts that Ty should refuse to let her walk around in. They are way too revealing.

I grab Jordan's arms so she doesn't fly down the stairs and break her neck when Candice throws herself forward. "Uh, hi," Jordan says with a smile. Candice is a foot shorter than Jordan but she's on a higher stair, so only six inches separate their height at the moment and her head lands against the tops of Jordan's breasts.

"Hell," I whisper under my breath.

Candice moves back, taking Jordan's hand to lead her up the steps. "I'm Candice. Sorry you had to ride over here with crabby pants. Since you'll be playing with him, you should get used to it. If you think it's bad now, just wait until the season starts. We're all crossing our fingers and toes that the Pronghorns at least break five hundred this year. Even my mother gets a dose of his snarly behavior when they lose. Maybe you can convince him that football is a team sport and he is not God."

That's my baby sister, and poor Jordan is getting a full serving.

We move farther into the house and my mom and Steph stroll out of the kitchen. Ty walks down the stairs and joins us. I make the introductions and they hug Jordan in turn. She laughs and smiles but I can tell she's a little out of her comfort zone. It's about time. Even catching her staring at my body didn't faze her for long.

"This is beautiful," Jordan says as we pass a large elephant made from sheet metal that stands four feet high.

Steph blushes and Candice takes over. "Steph's the artist of the family. If it's in the house and made out of metal, she's responsible. I play softball, that's my gift. I'm a shortstop and backup catcher. Dad's my coach." She looks at Ty with pride.

My mom breaks in, thank God. "We're eating at the kitchen table tonight because we want you to feel at home and the formal dining room is just that-formal. We use it mostly for holiday dinners. Ty is grilling chicken and I have salad and pasta in the fridge."

We enter the kitchen, which is the true center of my mother's house. It has a separate bar area with stools and a television. There's also a television on the back of the partial wall behind the bar that faces the kitchen so she can see games from either side. The TV facing us is on without sound. It's a replay of the final game of the women's softball college World Series. It was a great game and I know that because Candice watches it endlessly.

Off to the left sits a large table backed by huge windows that overlook the back patio into the backyard, which is also on an incline. I pull out a stool at the bar for Jordan.

"That's so cute," my sister says.

"It is kind of cute," Jordan answers as she takes the seat.