Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Don’t tell me that.” I dry my hands with the white towel hanging on the bar. “I’m so embarrassed. Oh my God, Andy. My father must be stopped.”
Chapter 25
Andy
All in all, I’d say this was going fairly well.
I’m seated at a patio table in Harlow’s backyard, and Kevin is doing his best to jump up into my lap—to no avail. I give him a little nudge back to the ground each and every time, not really wanting his tongue on my face.
Not that I don’t love dogs, just not in my lap at the dinner table, eh?
Big Steve? Has not stopped staring at me in awe. The small man is not at all what I was expecting when Harlow described him in New York.
He reminds me of a cartoon character with those big glasses.
Steve has a raspy, booming voice.
He’s dramatic in all the ways one can be dramatic and all the ways his daughter is not. Then again, maybe that’s why she’s so super chill. I would think being raised by a dude this high energy could occasionally suck the life out of a person.
Did I mention he’s loud?
Big Steve seems to think it’s his purpose in life to entertain, to make me laugh, and to dazzle me with his charm.
“Do you want to see the new trick I taught Kevin?” he booms, taking a little piece of meat and holding it between his forefinger and thumb. “Kevin. Bang, bang.”
Kevin only looks at him, cocking his head, his massive ears twitching.
“Kevin. Bang.” Harlow’s dad looks confused, scratching behind his ear. “He’s supposed to play dead.”
“Have you told him that?”
Harlow is seated next to me while her dad grills up hamburger patties—they have materialized out of thin air, along with some vegetables—for a late lunch.
“Dad, stop trying to get him to play dead,” Harlow warns him for the umpteenth time. “He’s hopeless.”
Her dad turns back to the grill now that the dog has completely let him down.
I give Kevin a quick glance. He’s next to the table, gazing up at me with beady little eyes, his black nose twitching.
Sniffing?
I can tell he’s deciding about whether or not he should attempt another jump up onto my lap, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants in my direction.
“He likes you,” Harlow’s dad tells me.
I lift the beer Big Steve set down in front of me. “He looks like the kind of dog that takes a fancy to everyone.”
I crack the beer open and take a swig.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Harlow grumbles. “I think he’d follow you anywhere. You’re his new best friend.”
“No loyalty.” I shake my head. “What a shame.”
“Speaking of loyalty, what’s it like having women throw themselves at you?” She leans forward, chin resting in her hand.
I cough, almost choking on the beer halfway down my gullet.
Steve turns, watching me, metal spatula suspended midflip as my face turns red.
“Wow.” She leans back in her chair. “Caught you off guard with that one, hey?”
She did.
But I would expect a woman like Harlow to ask the hard questions, just not with her father as the audience.
“That’s a difficult question to ask,” I tell her honestly. “It’s weird having a bunch of women hit on me, and at the same time, it’s unwelcome.”
I pause to think before continuing.
“It also comes with the territory, and believe it or not, it’s not just women. I get hit on by men too. Not every day—for the most part people are respectful of my space—but every so often you get that one . . .” I shrug. “I think times have changed. The world knows which players are single and which ones are in relationships, and I’d say those guys get left alone, ya know?”
Am I oversharing?
“I suppose you can’t help the way people react to you,” she allows.
“No, I can’t help how people react to me. And to be fair, the majority of superfans are men.” I fidget in my chair. “I’ve had a few long-term relationships. That helps.”
Harlow nods slowly.
Real slowly.
“How long was your last relationship?”
I do the mental math. “Eight months maybe? I’ve been single for months.”
Her gaze flickers to her dad.
Back to me.
“What about you?” I counter. Fair is fair, and I want to know.
“Year and a half? Yeah, I think it was a year and a half with Stuart.”
I let out a laugh. “You dated a guy named Stuart?”
Harlow rolls her eyes. “He didn’t choose his name—don’t be a dick.”
Steve whirls around. “You can’t call Landon Burke a dick!” The man looks absolutely horrified at his daughter’s choice of words. “Thank God I’m here, I can’t leave you here on your own with him. You’ll scare him away!”
“Sir, with all due respect, her sassy attitude is part of the reason I’m here.”
Big Steve grunts, unconvinced, and reluctantly goes back to the grill.