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&quot;Elizabeth, don&#039;t make a big deal out of this. It wasn&#039;t what it looked like.&quot;<br /> &quot;Really? It looked like you and that blonde were just pecking. Are you telling me I just hallucinated that?&quot;<br /> &quot;They&#039;re fans, Elizabeth. We&#039;ve been over this a hundred times. It&#039;s my job to be nice to fans.&quot;<br /> &quot;You can be nice without letting them paw you and peck you, and you sure as hell don&#039;t have to peck them. I&#039;ve seen other players on your team with the fans, and they don&#039;t let them touch their bodies and they don&#039;t peck the fans like you do.&quot;<br /> &quot;That&#039;s the married ones or the ones with serious girlfriends who don&#039;t do that.&quot;<br /> The blonde finally looked at me with disgust. &quot;What is she, your mother?&quot;<br /> And he still didn&#039;t defend me.<br /> &quot;You never give me a break from the fans, Elizabeth. This is part of my job.&quot;<br /> &quot;Maybe if your job title is man bimbo.<br /> &quot;We&#039;re not exclusive, Elizabeth. You&#039;re not my girlfriend.&quot;<br /> <br /> ————————<br /> I was just a few feet from making my escape when he intercepted me. &quot;Elizabeth, don&#039;t make a big deal out of this. It wasn&#039;t what it looked like.&quot;<br /> &quot;Really? It looked like you and that blonde were just pecking. Are you telling me I just hallucinated that?&quot;<br /> &quot;She pecked me.&quot;<br /> I rolled my eyes. I&#039;ve never been a violent person, but I wanted to punch him in the throat. Really, really hard. However, given that he stood at six feet six inches, I probably couldn&#039;t even reach his throat. &quot;I&#039;ve been watching you for the last ten minutes, Rig. Don&#039;t lie to me. She&#039;s been all over you, and I saw you whispering in her ear and you pecked her right here,&quot; I snarled, indicating my temple.<br /> &quot;They&#039;re fans, Elizabeth. We&#039;ve been over this a hundred times. It&#039;s my job to be nice to fans.&quot;<br /> &quot;You can be nice without letting them paw you and peck you, and you sure don&#039;t have to peck them. I&#039;ve seen other players on your team with the fans, and they don&#039;t let them touch their bodies and they don&#039;t peck the fans like you do.&quot;<br /> &quot;That&#039;s the married ones or the ones with serious girlfriends who don&#039;t do that.&quot;<br /> And there you have it, folks! The answer you&#039;ve been waiting for!<br /> The blonde who pecked him walked up to us, and tugged his hand, completely ignoring me aside from the smirk she shot my way. &quot;Come on back, Rig.&quot;<br /> &quot;Just give me a minute,&quot; he said, making no move to take his hand from hers.<br /> Just give me a minute? Seriously?<br /> &quot;You&#039;re making some really bad choices here, Rig,&quot; I told him calmly, when all I really wanted to do was pop the blonde in the nose and then knee him in the balls. Several times.<br /> The blonde finally looked at me with disgust. &quot;What is she, your mother?&quot;<br /> And he still didn&#039;t defend me.<br /> &quot;You never give me a break from the fans, Elizabeth. This is part of my job.&quot;<br /> &quot;Maybe if your job title is man bimbo.&quot;<br /> &quot;We&#039;re not exclusive, Elizabeth. You&#039;re not my girlfriend.&quot;<br /> I almost choked at that. &quot;You&#039;ve been sleeping with other women this whole time?&quot; I was horrified. Maybe I could hire someone to throat punch him for me since I was going to be too busy getting tested for every STD known to man.<br /> &quot;No, but I could have been. We made no promises.&quot;<br /> I waved my hand at their clasped hands. &quot;So we&#039;re nothing to each other? We&#039;re just casual? We&#039;re both free to sleep around? You pecked her and are currently holding her hand right in front of me. Is that OK, Rig? Because it&#039;s not OK in my eyes. With all your talk of me being patient with you because you&#039;d never done this before, I thought we had something.&quot;<br /> Inwardly I cringed, hearing those words spew from my mouth. Could I be any more of a cliché? I thought we had something. I might as well have kept going: I thought I was special. I thought you cared for me. I thought we were building something. All I needed to do was start whining and crying. In the background I could hear a cheer go up as other members of Rig&#039;s team walked into the bar.<br /> &quot;I told you, she pecked me. I didn&#039;t peck her.&quot;<br /> &quot;Same difference. It shows a total lack of respect for me.&quot;<br /> He drew the blonde closer, his arm around her waist, and she shot me a triumphant look. &quot;It would be different if I had pecked her. Then it would have been my decision.&quot;<br /> With a sick feeling in my gut, I knew what he was about to do. And I also knew if he did it, there&#039;d be no going back.<br /> &quot;Don&#039;t, Rig, please,&quot; I begged him, shaking my head. I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes, but I blinked them back because Foster girls never cried in public.<br /> &quot;Now this is something you can fault me for. This is my decision,&quot; he said, as he pulled her to him and pecked her.<br /> Right. On the lips.<br /> Not staying long enough to see anything else, like, say, tongue or groping or clothes being torn off, I bolted for the door as if I were a teenage girl in a horror film being chased by a chainsaw-wielding psycho. And for once, the nerd gods were smiling on me because a taxi was just discharging a passenger in front of the bar, and I dove right into it. The driver took off and I choked out my address, trying not to throw up or dissolve into tears. That can come later. Keeping a tight grip on my emotions, I managed to call my boss accepting the overseas position, book a redeye flight to London early the next morning, and call my sister, Willow, to tell her to get the ice cream ready because I was heading over to her place as soon as I could pack suitcases, grab my passport and leave my apartment. Because no matter what other men pulled, Ben &amp; Jerry never let you down.<br /> My dreams hadn&#039;t just crashed and burned; they&#039;d been incinerated.<br /> Rig POV<br /> Ten months before &quot;the incident&quot;...<br /> I opened my apartment door and found my eyes caught by a tiny nymph. Huge violet-blue eyes blinked at me and I was surprised again by how little the nymph was. I&#039;m not just saying that because I&#039;m six-six and built like a linebacker. The top of her head barely came to my pecs and she was slightly built but well-cushioned, with long brunette hair curling wildly from a high ponytail down her back. She was definitely not built along the lines of the statuesque blonde who was leaving my apartment. Trina? Tasha?<br /> &quot;Oh, hi,&quot; the nymph chirped in a soft voice, and it seemed like she was forcing herself to talk to us. Bad timing on her part; I just wanted the blonde gone. She&#039;d overstayed her welcome by three hours. &quot;I&#039;m your new neighbor. I&#039;m Elizabeth.&quot;<br /> She looked at us expectantly, and when neither of us said anything immediately, her face started to fall as if she was expecting our rejection of her overture.<br /> &quot;Later,&quot; I said to the blonde. Tansy? Tanya? She gave me a dirty look then stomped off down the hall to the elevators.<br /> I turned my attention to my neighbor and gave her a smile. &quot;She doesn&#039;t live here; I do. I&#039;m Rig.&quot;<br /> I paused, waiting for recognition to hit her. Instead, after a moment&#039;s hesitation, she held out a little hand to me. &quot;Nice to meet you, Rig.&quot;<br /> With a grin, I shook her hand, my huge one engulfing hers. There was no way she didn&#039;t know who I was, so I thought I&#039;d see how far she&#039;d take this.<br /> &quot;I play hockey,&quot; I said, nudging her to admit she knew that, knew who I was.<br /> She paused for a minute, clearly thinking, then a spark lit her eyes. Finally! She knew she couldn&#039;t keep up the game of &quot;pretend I don&#039;t know you.&quot;<br /> &quot;I play some tennis,&quot; she said. &quot;But I mainly run. I&#039;m just getting back from one.&quot;<br /> Unbelievable. Was she kidding? Was she really going to keep up the pretense of not knowing me?<br /> &quot;I&#039;m Rig Carson.&quot;<br /> &quot;Oh, sorry! I&#039;m Elizabeth Jackson.&quot; Her emphasis on her last name echoed mine. Either she was an actress or she really had no clue who I was. This never happened.<br /> She unlocked her door and then turned back to me. &quot;I&#039;ll see you around.&quot;<br /> And before I could say anything, she closed the door in my face.<br /> At practice, I tried to figure out what had happened with my new neighbor. She hadn&#039;t recognized me, and I had to be one of the best-known faces and names in the state. My face was plastered on billboards and buses, and I was the face of Feat athletic shoes and the Amped sports drink company.<br /> Then she hadn&#039;t tried to flirt with me or keep talking to me. When had that ever happened? Even if women didn&#039;t know who I was, my looks and body reeled them in. They were always throwing themselves at me, vying for my attention.<br /> Unsure why this was preying on my mind, I went over the facts. She wasn&#039;t my type. At all. She was adorable, pretty even, but seemingly clueless. Her body was slight but curvy and soft, not the usual model-type I always chose. There was an innate sweetness about her that was apparent after just a few minutes of interaction. Maybe she was married or had a serious boyfriend, but even those things didn&#039;t usually stop women from trying to snag my attention.<br /> When I came home after practice, I noticed that there was a little covered Tupperware container in front of each door filled with...cookies?<br /> I picked up the one in front of my door and saw a little sticky note on top that said From your new neighbor Elizabeth in 209.<br /> That told me she was not married, or even living with someone. Still didn&#039;t rule out a serious boyfriend, so there still might be some explanation for her attitude toward me. Without thinking about it, I dropped my bag in front of my door, and, cookies in hand, knocked on Elizabeth&#039;s door.<br /> After a few seconds, she opened her door, a pair of black glasses perched on her nose, her long brown hair in that messy bun thing girls did. &quot;Hi, Rip! I see you got your cookies!&quot;<br /> &quot;It&#039;s Rig,&quot; I told her through gritted teeth. &quot;Wanted to thank you for the cookies. This is a nice treat after practice and a guilty pleasure.&quot; I indicated my bag in front of my door. &quot;I don&#039;t usually let myself have sweets during the hockey season.&quot;<br /> &quot;Wow, that&#039;s dedication. I can&#039;t stay away from cookies when I play tennis or run.&quot;<br /> &quot;Well, it&#039;s my job.&quot; I look at her meaningfully.<br /> &quot;It&#039;s your job to play hockey?&quot; Her little nose wrinkled. Just as she was about to ask me something, there were a series of computer chimes in the background of her apartment. &quot;Oh, sorry, gotta run! Enjoy the cookies, Rig.&quot;<br /> And once again she shuts the door in my face.<br /> What is going on here?<br /> Elizabeth POV<br /> My new neighbor was gorgeous. There&#039;s no other word for his gloriousness. He looked like the warriors that populated my company&#039;s video games. Unbelievably tall, as wide as a house and with sculpted muscles that looked like they could lift mountains. His face was rough perfection; no pretty boy here. He was all man with sharp cheekbones and a square jaw. His nose was just off center enough to let me know it&#039;d been broken at least once. And his hair! Thick, black and cut short, complementing his icy grey eyes. And, of course, he had a girlfriend! Gah! The first man who&#039;d captured my attention ever and he had a girlfriend. Double gah!<br /> The next morning, I was leaving for my run when Rig&#039;s door opened and he stood there in nothing but a loose pair of basketball shorts and no shirt. Did I mention no shirt? Holy freaking muscles – the man should not just appear like that without warning. The view momentarily distracted me from the fact that his girlfriend was leaving again.<br /> Wait a minute.<br /> That wasn&#039;t the same woman as yesterday.<br /> Was Rig a cheater?<br /> Oh, major disappointment.<br /> How would I ever look at his girlfriend in the eye if I saw her again? Did this woman know she was the other woman?<br /> I mumbled a quick good morning and shot down the hallway. I opted for the stairs, so I wouldn&#039;t have to be stuck in the elevator with the other woman.<br /> I found it easy to pound out the miles that day. Such a waste of a good-looking man. He was a cheater and for some reason that made me really angry. Maybe I felt bad for the clueless women, maybe I felt like someone that good-looking should have an equally beautiful soul to match. Either way, he was now firmly in the creep category.<br /> Rig POV<br /> When I returned home from practice that day, I decided to return the cookie container to Elizabeth, possibly as a way to see her and spark her recognition of me. Why it was so important to me that she figure out who I was, I had no clue, but her lack of recognition was really getting to me. I knocked on her door and she answered after a few minutes.<br /> &quot;Hey,&quot; I smiled at her, the full wattage one that never failed me with a woman. &quot;I wanted to return your container.&quot;<br /> Without a word, she took it from my hands and shot out a curt, &quot;Thanks.&quot;<br /> And she closed the door in my face. For the third time.<br /> The next morning, just as I was kicking out last night&#039;s redhead, Elizabeth&#039;s door opened, and her eyes widened until they were in danger of bugging out of her face. Again, she mumbled a &quot;good morning&quot; as she bolted down the hall to the stairwell. What was her problem? Was she some moral, uptight prude? A nun in training? At that point, her attitude was pissing me off, so I decided to give her something to really react to the next morning.<br /> I knew Elizabeth left for her run at 6:30 every morning, at least if the last three days were any indication. Sure enough, I heard her door open, and I opened mine. Elizabeth locked her door, turned around and came face to face. &quot;Thanks for a fun night, ladies. See you around.&quot;<br /> The two blondes giggled a good-bye to me and walked down the hall. Elizabeth remained where she was, her mouth open as she watched them leave.<br /> &quot;Ya gotta love puck bunnies,&quot; I said to her, slouching against my door frame. &quot;Always up for anything.&quot;<br /> Her attention snapped back to me. &quot;What bunnies?&quot;<br /> &quot;Puck bunnies,&quot; I said slowly. &quot;Have a good run. I&#039;m going back to bed. Long night.&quot; With a wink at her, I shut the door in her face.<br /> For once.

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