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)
“Gentlemen, is this little hen meeting over? We have some tapes to watch.” Coach Neil walks past us and I see the smirk on his face.
He likes to give us shit, no matter if we’re on the field or not. Not needing to be told twice, we head to the locker room for quick showers, so we can file into the media room to watch film.
With my phone on my lap, I sit at the back of the room, and it takes herculean effort to stay awake. I debate on texting Emma to see how her ankle is, but I’ll see her soon enough. I don’t know if she believed me or not when I told her and Aubrey I would be back today, but I meant it. Somehow, she’s become more than just the chase and someone I want to get to know. Regardless of whether or not she ever accepts my offer for a proper date, Emma’s cool, and my gut tells me that knowing her, that having her in my life, could only mean good things.
Two hours later, we’re all blinking as our eyes adjust to the overhead lights that someone just turned on. “Class dismissed.” Coach titters, obviously amused with himself. We hear that line often, and it’s always followed by a laugh. He’s a hardass on the field and about the game; he’s a damn good coach because of it. He’s also a pretty chill guy when he’s not ripping your ass while you’re on the field or pointing out a mistake in a game while going over film.
“Harvey’s?” Kaden suggests.
“Can’t.”
“What do you got going on?” Case gives me a curious look.
“I have plans.” I’m being vague and we all know it.
“What kind of plans?”
“Just plans.”
“Uh-huh.” Thomas laughs. “He’s getting laid.”
I’m never going to hear the end of this. “I’m going to the animal shelter.” I’d much rather tell them the truth and take their ribbing than for them to get the wrong idea about Emma when they find out that’s where I went. I’ve never really cared about their opinions of the women I’ve spent time with in the past. Mostly because outside of a hook-up, or a date to a function, there haven’t been any. Not since high school.
“You getting a dog?” Case asks.
“No. Emma fell and hurt her ankle, so I’m going to go help.”
“Emma, is she the hot-as-hell chick that was with Coach Bateman’s wife?” Thomas asks.
“That would be her.”
“Nice.” Jack holds his fist out for me.
“Lucky Bastard,” Kaden mumbles. “Why you gotta take all the prime pussy, QB?”
I ignore the fact that he just referred to Emma as pussy and push forward. It’s how we talk, we’ve all done it, but suddenly it feels wrong when we’re talking about her. “Look, she’s hurt her ankle and the volunteers are random at best, according to Emma, so I’m just helping out. Feeding some dogs and whatever else needs to be done. No big deal.”
“Maybe we should come with you,” Jack offers. “You know, lend our brawn.” He flexes his arms as if to show off his muscles.
“Nah, it’s good. Thanks though.”
“Oh, I see,” Kaden announces. “You’re afraid she’ll drop you and go for the real Trojan stud.” He puffs out his chest and we laugh at his display.
“It’s no big deal. I’m just being nice. That’s all.”
“Okay.” Trent grins. “If that’s how you want to play it. Boys, I’m going home to my wife. I’ll see your ugly mugs on Monday.”
With a wave of goodbyes, we all go our separate ways, at least Trent and I do. I don’t stick around to see if the guys are meeting up at Harvey’s now or later, for that matter. I have somewhere I need to be. After all, I never break a promise.
Chapter 7
Emma
It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’ve been lounging around the house all day. My ankle still hurts, and I figure two days of rest and I should be good as new for work next week. Aubrey is on call this weekend for the shelter, so I don’t have to worry about following up to make sure the volunteers showed up. We’ve talked about hiring another part-time person. Someone to staff the weekends, but it’s hard to find someone willing to work both weekend days. The hours could be flexible. As long as the animals are fed and watered, the cages are cleaned, and the dogs get to stretch their legs. They could do that in a couple of hours each day. It’s something I should bring up again and see what she says.
My house is clean, the laundry is washed, folded, and put away, and I have a chicken casserole in the Crock-Pot. It’s way too much food for just me, so that will be my meals for the weekend, and I’ll take the rest to work and send it home with Aubrey for her and Chance on Monday. When I do cook, that’s usually what I end up doing with it. They don’t seem to mind, and I hate the thought of food going to waste.