Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Anywhere that has big and tall,” I say dryly. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” That isn’t about fashion? “I have a class to get to.”
She smiles again and leans in closer until I smell her perfume, something flowery and sweet. It’s nothing like Penelope’s candy scent—dammit, why am I even thinking about her right now?
Rein it in, Ryker. Rein it in.
She laughs up at me, big eyes wide. “I just wanted to say hi. We had a class together last semester, but you were always so covered up in girls I never really got to talk to you.”
Uh-huh. Margo’s the kind who gets what she wants if she wants it bad enough, and she’s never made an attempt to talk to me.
“Well, here I am, ready and waiting. Let’s talk.” I give her a cocky grin. I can flirt with the best of them, and if it helps me forget that this year is sucking so far, so be it.
She preens. “I think you’re an excellent football player. The way you throw the ball…and stuff.”
Stuff? I scratch my forehead. Is she serious?
From behind me, I hear the sarcastic tones of Penelope’s voice. I turn around and sure enough, she’s standing there, minus Connor.
Her hand goes to her hip. “Well, don’t you guys make the perfect Ken and Barbie.” She says it completely without malice, but there’s a glint in her smoky gray eyes as she measures the distance between Margo and me.
Margo takes her in, her lips pressing together tightly. “Hello, Penelope.”
I sense tension and straighten. “You two know each other?” They eyeball each other like two dogs after the same bone. “Aren’t you both Chi Os?”
“And stepsisters—since last year,” Penelope says tightly.
Margo nods. “My mom married her dad, Professor Wainwright.”
Professor Wainwright? My eyes flare. But he and Penelope don’t have the same last name…
“The psychology teacher?” He’s also the chair of the department and my guidance counselor. I have a meeting with him soon to make sure I’ve got my credits together for graduation. A graduate of Waylon back in the day, he was a quarterback in the NFL for a few years.
Penelope gives me a short nod. “It’s not something I go around telling people.” She shrugs, a hard set to her face. “I barely know my dad. I happen to know a lot about football because I like the sport.”
Ah. I know what it’s like to barely know a parent. My mom left my dad when I was three and has been floating in and out of my life ever since. She only comes around when she’s in between boyfriends and has nothing better to do. The last time I saw her was over two years ago at a football game in Austin, where I’m from. Despite the fact that I’m the quarterback, she’s never been to a game here at Waylon. From watching the myriad of emotions flitting across Penelope’s face, it seems we have that dynamic in common.
“Don’t you have a class to get to?” Margo says to Penelope.
“It can wait.”
Margo narrows her eyes. “I wanted to speak with Ryker alone.”
Penelope stiffens and looks back at me, her eyes gazing at me accusingly.
The arch in my eyebrow says, Are you jealous?
Never in a million years, her smirk replies.
Then why the dirty looks?
She grits her teeth.
“I thought you’d already gone inside to sit with Dimpleshitz,” I say pointedly.
“I did. I came out to find you.”
Oh.
“Why?”
She eyes Margo and chews on her lip, obviously contemplating.
Did things go south with Dimpleshitz?
I’m about to ask her when Margo stumbles in her heels—how do you do that standing still?—and I reach out and grab her. She melts in my arms. “Thank you, Ryker. You’re so strong.” She bites her lower lip and pushes out her tits. My eyes, of course, go straight down to her cleavage. I’m human, after all.
I glance over at Penelope, who’s glaring at me.
What?
“No worries,” I say to Margo, setting her right. “Is there something else you wanted?”
She clears her throat, her hands fluttering. “Yes, as I was saying earlier…I think you’re the best player in the country, and no one is more disappointed than me that you aren’t being considered for the Heisman this year.”
She definitely has my attention now. I frown. “The award isn’t everything,” I say, even if it so is.
“Good Lord, he could still win. He was cleared by the NCAA. How many times do I have to tell people?” Penelope says rather loudly.
“Are you…defending him?” Margo asks, an incredulous look on her face.
Penelope shrugs. “Even if he doesn’t get the Heisman, he’s going to be a top pick in the draft. That’s nothing to sneer at.”
“But he did the betting thing to you.”
“I’m right here,” I add dryly.
Penelope looks at Margo. “And he apologized and has made up for it. Once I forgive someone, it’s over and done. We’re moving on. Isn’t that right?” Her smoky eyes meet mine, and fuck, my heart kicks up a notch. My gaze drifts over her porcelain complexion, taking in the curls that fall around her shoulders. I stare at her lips, remembering that kiss.