But more importantly, he and Jo played on the same team, no doubt about it. None whatsoever.
Pulling his arm back, Jo stepped forward to close the distance between them. He led with his hips, tucking his hands into his back pockets, and found an empty space to bump against the counter beside the sexy player. The guy wore a cropped jersey cut off at midriff, baring his firm abs, and a battered pair of skinny jeans that were meant to look as if he’d picked them at random, but Jo knew better. He’d spent hours before trying to pretend like he hadn’t.
Above those chocolate eyes was a helmet of bushy black fuzz, a thick kink with the consistency of a Brillo pad. Jo shoved his hands deeper into his back pockets to keep from reaching out to touch those tight curls. He wondered what they’d feel l
