Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Seeing him in the pub with Baird and John last night, I couldn’t help but note the closeness between them. Watching him celebrate on the pitch with his teammates, there was affection and pride in their interactions. The first time I’d seen him play on the telly, I’d felt a pang of remorse and regret. Then I saw him plastered on local and national ad campaigns, those gorgeous green eyes smoldering at the camera, and he’d suddenly seemed like a total stranger.
And I realized he was.
Callan Keen and I didn’t know each other anymore.
Now, as I watched him pass to his teammates, setting up the goal that would win the game, I felt a rush of self-directed anger.
Sometimes my inflexibility made me hate myself a wee bit.
And in return, it made me resent my neighbor upstairs.
Not just for that, though. He’d inadvertently ruined my date last night. Dean was nice. Friendly. But as soon as I realized Callan was in the Orchard, I couldn’t think about anything else. Eventually, I asked Dean if he wanted to relocate. But even that hadn’t helped. There was no zing of chemistry between us. So I called it a night. When Dean asked if he could see me again, I gently told him it wasn’t going to work out. He’d seemed surprised by my honesty but then thanked me for it. We said good night, and I went home alone to use the vibrator stashed in my bedside drawer.
Three months was not a long time to go without sex. I’d gone longer. But I was feeling the drought this time around. Probably because the last time I had sex was with my ex Josh (in his car, a fact my whole family knew, thanks to Luke outing me at Sunday dinner). Josh and I had dated for a few weeks. It was like I was getting desperate to find that connection, that great love, by that point, so I’d hung around in the relationship far longer than I should have. I think I’d known from the start he was wrong for me. But after we had sex, I knew for certain. No chemistry.
I’d made one last attempt to spark fire between us by initiating sex in his Volvo. We’d parked up on a dark lay-by after a Sunday drive. The car sex had been awkward and uncomfortable … and so bad. It was almost as bad as the fact that he wanted to “make love” to me. He was all emotional and into it while I was in my head, attempting to make sex between us better. That night in the Volvo, I realized while he was inside me that it was never going to get better and that I never wanted to have sex with him again.
It had taken me a week of avoiding him to finally face Josh, only to break up with him.
And I was back on the dating apps the very next day. Because if I was going to spend the rest of my life working my arse off, then I wanted someone special to come home to. I wanted love and companionship and fantastic fecking sex to take the edge off.
“You’re into football?”
I jerked my head back to my companion, realizing I’d zoned out looking at the TV screen above the bar. It was Tuesday afternoon and I’d moved around a meeting with the girls in order to make a quick lunch with Samuel Green. Upon walking into the bar restaurant, I noted a table of four women across from Samuel looking at him. He should be over there, enjoying their attention, not having to coax me into focusing on him.
The thought of losing out on a client like Aura Beauty because I hadn’t been cordial enough to Sheera’s grown son made me straighten in my chair. I smiled softly at him and watched the way his gaze dropped to my mouth. “I am,” I lied, because I wasn’t going to tell him it was the sight of Callan Keen on the telly that had drawn my attention. “You?”
“Not at all.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say after that.
“These are all great recommendations.” Samuel changed the subject, looking down at the list he’d made on his phone. “Which is your favorite?”
In an effort to be as efficient as possible and get back to work, I’d ordered a sandwich for lunch, and as soon as our food arrived, I began listing off the best places for him to take his clients, depending on their vibe and the mood he was looking for.
“I love Mexican food, so Wahaca is a great choice for clients who are looking for something fun and delicious, perhaps for clients who don’t take themselves too seriously.”
“Wahaca.” Samuel nodded. “I love Mexican food too.”
“Aye, it’s great,” I replied inanely. Between my determination to have his mother as a client and our astonishing lack of chemistry on any level, I was finding easy conversation difficult with him.