Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
“Ow! What the fuck? I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to. You’re wearing that smirk, and I know what it means.”
Tristan shrugs, smile still on his face. “It’s not my fault Bea picks action movies.”
“Stop talking or I’ll punch you in the balls.” Flip turns back to me. “She and Essie watched that show every damn week. Took over the living room and screeched their way through every freaking episode. We used to get into fights over it because she’d want to watch it while a game was on, and we only had one TV.”
“Peggy was the same about that show,” Roman says.
“Really?” I never saw her watch it. Although, when Peggy was a teen she was mostly awkward and quiet, or holed up in her bedroom if she wasn’t out with friends.
Roman shrugs. “There was a TV in the spare bedroom. She used to hang out there a lot when she hit her teen years. Scarlet was her favorite actress.”
“Huh.” It shouldn’t matter that Peggy loved that show or Scarlet as an actress. It also shouldn’t matter that I didn’t know, but for some reason, the whole thing bothers me. Since my accident last year, Peggy had started to confide in me a lot more, especially when I was stuck at home while the team traveled. But lately we’ve had a few uncomfortable interactions.
When we arrive at the club, we bypass the line and find the girls in the VIP section. They raise an assortment of glasses as we approach. Hemi is probably drinking sparkling water since she doesn’t let loose during the regular season. Shilpa sometimes indulges in a drink or two, depending on the night. Rix and Peggy, however, seem to have decided tonight is martini night. Peggy is built like an athlete and can usually hold her own just fine, but martinis have a narrow margin for error.
“Finally! Took you guys long enough!” Rix slides out of the booth, her martini sloshing perilously. She was wearing jeans and a jersey at the game, but she’s traded the jersey for a crop top.
Peggy slides out after her. She’s also undergone a wardrobe change, but hers is far more drastic. She was in jeans and a jersey, which I can deal with, especially since it hides her athletic body. But now she’s wearing strappy heels and a slinky black dress that rides high on her thighs and accentuates every toned curve she has. Her eyes are rimmed with black liner, making them pop, and her lips are a sinful glossy pink. It’s a real fucking problem that I notice how damn good she looks. It’s even more of a problem that I want to switch up my role as bodyguard on the dance floor tonight. I want to be the man who holds her tight against himself. Seeing her dressed like this makes me want to take her home and put her in my bed.
“Hi, Dado.” The heels mean she doesn’t have to push up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
He purses his lips. “Where did this dress come from?”
“A store.” She rolls her eyes. “And if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Her gaze shifts briefly to me, but her eyes don’t lift above my chin. “Hey, Hollis.” She pokes Roman in the chest. “We’re going to dance, and we don’t need bodyguards.” Not that it would matter because no one on the team would be ballsy enough to flirt with Roman Hammerstein’s daughter.
Hemi slides out of the booth. She’s wearing an ice-blue dress and matching heels, always representing the team. Hemi squeezes Roman’s shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Appreciate it,” Roman says.
Hemi points a manicured finger at Flip. “Please try not to make tomorrow a PR nightmare for me. I really don’t have time for it.”
He looks up from his phone. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“That’s my concern.” She flips Dallas the bird as she passes him.
“Always nice to see your beautiful smile, Willy.” Dallas is the only one who shortens Wilhelmina down to this instead of Hemi, probably because it annoys her.
“Eat your own dick, Dallas.” Hemi disappears into the pulsing crowd of bodies.
“Is it just me, or does she hate you more than usual this week?” Ash asks.
Dallas slides his hands into his pants pockets. “I feel like she’s warming up a little. Last week she told me she dreamed I contracted a case of genital herpes so severe my dick fell off. So telling me to eat it seems like a minor upgrade.”
“Wow. That’s a serious hate-on, isn’t it?”
Dallas nods. “Yeah, but there’s a fine line between love and hate, so maybe she’ll eventually get tired of hating me.”
Roman is still staring toward the dance floor, wearing a concerned frown.
I clap him on the shoulder. “She’ll be fine. And with Rix out there, Tristan will be on guard.”