Lessons From A Latin Lover. Anne McAllister

jaw clenched. “I don’t talk about soccer,” he said harshly.

      She looked genuinely surprised. “Why not?”

      “Because—” He hesitated. He didn’t want to continue. Didn’t want to go there. But there didn’t seem to be any way out. The noise and commotion in the bar swirled around them, but he didn’t hear any of it. He heard the roar of blood in his head and the echo of Molly’s frank question.

      “Wrong question?” she asked gently when he didn’t reply at once.

      His fingers tightened on the glass he held. He let out the breath that seemed to be choking him. “No,” he said honestly. “I asked for it.” Because he had. He’d challenged her—and she’d challenged him right back.

      “I don’t talk about it because it makes people uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable.” He swallowed. “It hurts.”