Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
We once had a forty-five-minute conversation about whether a costar gave her a dirty look. When people look at Farrah, they see a confident, stunning woman without a care in the world. But truthfully, she has the same insecurities and neuroses as the rest of us.
The contestants are mingling, servers discretely bringing around hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne on trays. Farrah takes a glass, but I know she won’t have so much as a sip. She’s strict about not having alcohol or sugar.
Dalton is talking to June Calloway, giving her that same boy next door grin he tried on me earlier. She’s eating it up, fluttering her lashes as she looks up at him and laughs.
I can still roll my eyes. That’s silent. I see men like Dalton trying to get with Farrah all the time. They expect women to fall at their feet just because they’re successful and attractive.
Which...in fairness, is more than any of the men I’ve gone out with have had to offer. It’s been years since I’ve been on a date. But when I did date, I liked quirky, sweet men.
I’ve only had one serious relationship, and it started my freshman year of college. We’d been together for almost a year when he called me one night asking me to bail him out of jail. He had stolen several bottles of cologne. I broke things off with him after that, and of course, he never paid me back the bail money.
I don’t miss having a partner. There was never anything grand or romantic about my relationship with Derek. We were more like good friends who also had sex.
I’m not a woman men look at like they do Farrah. Sometimes I see the heat and longing in their gazes when they look at her. I wonder what it would feel like if a man looked at me that way, like he was starving and nothing but me could satisfy him.
“I do. I love football,” I overhear Farrah saying to JP. “You were on my last fantasy team, actually.”
He laughs, looking pleased. She had no idea what fantasy football was until I explained it to her, and she’s definitely never had her own team. I told her he’d be flattered if she said that, and it looks like I was right.
“Hope I did well for you,” he says, his dimple showing when he smiles.
She does the coy, slow blink, with a one-second glance away that makes men forget they ever had common sense. When Farrah wants someone, she always gets them.
“You did great,” she says with a wide, perfect smile. “Some of my others...well, it was a frustrating season.”
“You just need an entire team of me,” he quips.
“I wouldn’t complain about that.”
JP edges closer to her, a fish who has bitten the hook and is about to be reeled in. “So, where are you originally from, Farrah?”
“I grew up in a small town. Pella, Iowa. I still love to go back when I can for the tulip festival.”
“Tulips, huh?”
“What can I say? We Dutch girls love our tulips.” She brushes her fingers over his forearm and laughs lightly. “What about you--where did you grow up?”
“My family is originally from St. Louis, but we moved to Atlanta when I was in sixth grade so I’d have the best shot at a football scholarship.”
From everything Farrah and I read about JP, he’s one of the good ones. He started a charity to raise money for families who need help making their homes accessible for a family member with a disability. JP is considered one of the hottest, most eligible bachelors in pro sports, but he’s selective about who he dates. He hasn’t had a girlfriend for more than a year.
“Farrah, I’m Dalton Lorenzo.”
The aggravated nose exhale from someone sitting near me is almost inaudible. Dalton buttoned his Hawaiian shirt up, losing most of his porn star cred. Farrah turns her megawatt smile his way.
“Hi Dalton, I’m Farrah.” She shakes his hand and then pretends to sip her champagne. “So we have a hockey player and a football player. Is there a rivalry between those sports?”
“Nah,” Dalton says. “We leave those guys to play with their balls.”
JP shakes his head and smiles good-naturedly. “At least I still have all my teeth.”
“I’ve only got one crown,” Dalton says, pointing at one of his teeth. “And I didn’t even chip that tooth playing hockey.”
“How’d you chip it?” JP asks.
“Boxing.”
JP lowers his brows. “Ooh, ouch. You don’t have enough extra brain cells to be boxing, Lorenzo.”
June comes over to join the group, gushing to Farrah about the cosmetics line Farrah is working on. I stifle a yawn. It’s been a long day of travel. As soon as filming wraps for the day, I have to get Farrah’s ice bath ready for her face and do some prep for tomorrow.