Bi: Football players are assholes. A bunch of cocky, lying cheaters who think they are God's gift to women, just like my dear old dad. I managed to avoid them my entire college career, until now >.< I was assigned to be the physical therapist for wide receiver Callum Samskiewicz. Pros: This will be great to add to my resume. Con: I have to see him. Every. God's. Day. Which would be great...if he weren't so damn sexy...Cal: Football is all I have, so when Coach saddled me with a poorly dressed PT student with crumbs on her shoulder, I figured that was my final sentence. I don't have time for this. Not now. Not when my dreams are on the verge of being destroyed. All I should care about now is the ball. So why can't I stop imagining what Bee Mitchell is hiding under those baggy sweaters?