Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“There’s more in the pot if you need it,” she says before taking another bite of her bagel. She wraps up the remaining half and stands.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to make you late for practice. Besides, I ate a piece of toast when I took Advil this morning.”
“Well, take it with you. You can eat it later.”
“Okay.”
Just like that, she stands and hobbles down the hall to finish getting ready. I fight the urge to follow her. Instead, I call out to her. “Hey, Emma.”
“Yeah?”
“You need help?”
“I’m good.”
Damn, is that disappointment that she doesn’t need my help? I take care of my trash, and although another cup would be nice to make up for my lack of sleep, I forgo another and instead grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Ready,” she says.
She’s got makeup on now, covering her freckles, and I hate that she’s covering them up. “Why’d you cover them?” I ask, pointing to her face.
“What are you talking about?” She pretends like she doesn’t understand the question, but by the set of her shoulders, I know she does.
My feet carry me to stand in front of her. My hand rises as if it has a mind of its own, and my thumb lightly skims across her cheek. “Your freckles, why did you cover them?”
“I’d prefer to not look like sixteen-year-old me.” Her green eyes stare up at me.
“Sixteen-year-old you must have been gorgeous because, you now… with freckles exposed… you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” I didn’t mean to lay that out there, but I’ll be damned if she thinks of herself as anything but a knockout.
A blush coats her cheeks. Even under the makeup I can see it. “We should go.” She steps back, and the connection, the moment, is lost.
“Right. Where are your bags? I’ll carry them out to the car.”
“I can get it.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’m doing it anyway.”
She sighs. “On the couch.”
I hold my elbow out for her, and after a few seconds of hesitation, she links arms with me. We stop by the couch and I grab her bags, then guide her outside. I wait while she locks up and then help her to the passenger side of my SUV.
Once we’re on the road, the quiet starts to get to me. Time to break the ice. “So, did you think of me last night?” I glance over to catch her rolling her eyes. Perfect. I want a reaction out of her.
“How did you know? Did you hear me call out your name?” she gasps and places her hand to her chest as if she’s offended or embarrassed.
The problem with that is, she may be teasing me, but the thought of her touching herself while thinking about me is making things very tight down below. My cock twitches and I have to shift in my seat. That makes her giggle.
“You okay, Number Eighteen?”
“Minx.” Her laughter fills the car and I don’t hate it.
“How long is practice today?” she asks.
“Five hours. Three on the field and two watching tapes, going over plays, special teams that kind of thing.”
“Have you always loved football?”
“Yeah. I guess from the time I was little, I would sit on my dad’s lap and we’d watch it for hours. The only time I ever sat still to hear my parents tell it.” I glance over at her and she has a soft smile playing on her lips. “Anyway, the school district we lived in didn’t offer football, so my parents went with the open enrollment when it was time for me to start kindergarten in the town next to ours. I started full-contact football at the age of five and never looked back.”
“That’s kind of amazing, to think that’s how your love for the game started that early, and look at you now.”
“My parents, they’re the best. I owe them my success. All the nights they took me to practice, five nights a week and games on the weekends until I turned sixteen and got my license. They always made sure I had the best gear, going as far as buying my helmet each year to make sure that it was safe.”
“They sound pretty great.”
“They are.” I nod. “What about you? Why the animal shelter?”
“I love animals.” I can hear the truth in her words. “I came to Hermosa Beach for vet school, but I didn’t love it. School that is or the thought of being in school for so many more years, so I changed my major to veterinary technician. Two years later, I was done. I applied to the shelter and was hired on the spot. Aubrey had just taken over, and we hit it off. We’ve been best friends ever since.”
“It makes a difference when you can do what you love. Makes it feel like less of a job.”