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)
“Have a great practice, Number Eighteen.” I’m already feeling more like myself.
“Have a good day, Emma. I’ll call you later?”
I find myself nodding. He grins and turns, jogging off to his SUV. How is it that I’ve been in this town since college and never ran into him and now, here we are, immersed in each other’s lives at what feels like every turn? I point my Jeep toward the shelter and think about what to tell Aubrey. I can already hear her telling me it’s fate.
Is it fate?
Do I believe in fate?
Only time will tell.
Chapter 12
Landon
It’s been over three weeks since Emma and I had our first date. Well, not technically a date. I’m still working on that. However, I like to tease her about it. Every time we share a meal, I chalk it up to another date. It used to irritate her, and now she’s asking me for a tally, making sure I’m still keeping track.
We’re on date number fifteen, unofficially of course. Each one is better than the last. Most of them are me stopping by the shelter after practice, but there have been a few weekends thrown into the mix as well. Nothing like the night when we first cuddled and to be honest, I’m disappointed. I was sure I would lose interest in her, in the way she makes me feel—breathless, like I’m ten feet tall, and sappy as fuck. No such luck. If anything, those feelings have intensified beyond what I could ever have imagined.
I want her. Hell, I knew then and should have owned up to it, but what my parents said had merit. I needed to show her the kind of man I am, not tell her. She needed to see it with her own eyes, and that’s all I’ve done the last few weeks is try to show her that I’m falling. Fast and hard if how much time I spend thinking about her is any indication.
I scan the stands and I don’t see her. Tonight is our first preseason game and Emma and Aubrey are coming. They both passed on a private suite and opted to sit in the stands. CJ is staying with the babysitter, so in a way, it’s girls’ night. Glancing at the clock, there are twenty minutes until game time and no sign of them. I jog down the sidelines where Chance is standing with Thomas.
“Hey, you heard from them?” I ask him, not giving a single fuck that he and Thomas are in the middle of a conversation.
Chance glances over at me and his eyes are dancing with laughter. “They’re on their way.”
“What?” Thomas asks. “Is this the infamous Emma you won’t stop talking about?”
Yeah, so I might talk about her a little. Okay, a lot. “She’s coming to the game.”
“You nail that down?” he asks me.
“Not yet.”
“What are you waiting on?”
To show her? “Just giving her time to process it. Going from a small-town girl, to the girlfriend of a professional athlete is a big deal.”
“Girlfriend?” Chance asks, surprised. “Does she know about this?”
“No, and you two are going to keep your traps shut. In all due time,” I say, scanning the crowd again, and that’s when I spot her. I wave, getting her attention, and a beautiful smile crosses her face as she waves back. She’s wearing the Trojans jersey I dropped off to her place last night. At least I think it’s the one I gave her. She turns to high-five a fan behind her and that’s when I see it. My name is across her shoulders. She’s wearing my name and number and that does something to me. I know how big of a Mavericks fan she is, and even last night she acted like I’d given her a bottle of poison as a gift. I was hoping it was an act from the smile playing on her lips. Now, here she is, wearing it with a smile. Fuck me, but I want nothing more than to peel it off her.
“He’s a goner, boys,” Thomas boasts. I don’t even bother to try and shut him up. He’s not wrong, and it’s time to do something about it. I need to move us out of the friend-zone.
“Lucky Bastard,” Kaden mumbles. “You’re always getting the prime pu—” I hold up my hand, giving him a warning glare to shut his mouth. He grins but doesn’t finish what he was going to say.
“Not her,” I say, my voice stern. We’ve had this conversation, and I don’t want to have it again. If she were mine, he wouldn’t be talking about her like some cleat chaser. I need to do something about that.
Keeping my head in the game knowing she’s here is harder than I expected it to be. I glance up at her often, and every time I do, our eyes meet. She’s here for me. Not for the game or to cheer on either of the teams. Me. I want nothing more than to kiss the hell out of her, to show her my appreciation of course. Shaking out of my thoughts, I get my head back in the game. First game of the season with my girl and my parents in the stands. I’ve got this.