Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I was five minutes late to practice, and the players let me know as much.
“You said if you were late, you’d run the extra mile,” one of them reminded me.
Rod Webber, my assistant coach, smirked.
I shrugged off my shirt and tossed it onto the grass before jogging to the track. “If everyone just stands around watching me, I will make you run two extra miles.”
The team, minus Rod, jogged behind me. By the time they finished their one required mile, I was already ahead by an extra lap and a half. Rod let them grab water before they stretched and moved on to drills while I finished my extra mile.
Although I knew I would miss Adam and our other friends in Colorado, I was happy with how talented my star quarterback and the rest of the team were. We were going to have a good year.
I returned home a little after six, and the house smelled like an Italian eatery of garlic and spices. Josh was in his booster seat, eating lasagna at the dinner table.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at him before shifting my attention to Eve, who was drying the last dish. “I had ingredients for lasagna?”
“No.” She laughed. “My mom sent groceries with me in case you didn’t have things to eat.”
“There’s bologna and bread.” I filled a glass with water and gulped every drop.
Eve set a clean plate on the counter. “My mom doesn’t consider a bologna sandwich a proper dinner. But don’t tell her I told you that. She’s not one for making anyone, except her daughters, feel bad about their life choices.”
I stood behind Josh and bent down to nuzzle his neck.
He giggled. “Stop, Daddy! You’re sweaty.”
“I know.” I shrugged off my shirt and used it to wipe my face and sweaty hair. “When you’re done eating, I’ll shower.”
“If you want to shower now, I can wait for him to finish.” Eve smiled. It wasn’t her usual sassy grin. It was more of a shy one that made her cheeks turn pink. And she averted her gaze when I looked at her.
“Are you sure?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nodded while wiping the already clean counter with the dishtowel.
“Thanks.”
Eve returned a second “Mm-hmm.”
When I finished my shower, Josh was in the living room, playing with his blocks and Matchbox cars, while Eve grated an apple in the kitchen. A plate of lasagna, salad, and garlic bread was at the table, along with a folded paper napkin, fork, and a glass of ice water.
“This is beyond what I expected when I called your mom, begging for someone to help me tonight,” I said, sitting at the table. “This looks and smells incredible.”
Eve glanced up from the bowl of shredded apple and smiled. “Thanks.”
“Are you making your special applesauce?”
She nodded.
“I might just keep you.” I stabbed my fork into the lettuce.
Eve paused her hands, brown eyes wide and unblinking.
I shook my head while I chewed the salad. “That sounded wrong. I just meant Josh could get spoiled having homemade lasagna and fresh applesauce.”
She cleared her throat and sprinkled cinnamon and sugar into the bowl. “Did you punish yourself for being late to practice?”
I smirked over the bite of lasagna and nodded. “It’s only fair,” I mumbled.
“What do you think of your quarterback?”
“Drew? He’s good. Really good.”
Eve put the cinnamon and sugar into the brown paper bag she brought with her.
“How was your day? Do a lot of people stay at the motel?”
“No.” She laughed. “So I work slowly to get in the hours I want. I turn on the TV in the rooms while I clean. Watch a show. Clean things twice. No motel or hotel in this great state has cleaner rooms than the Devil’s Head Inn.”
I grinned. “By the way,” I used my fork to point to the lasagna, “this is the best meal I’ve had in years. Have you considered culinary school?”
Her nose wrinkled. “You just said that’s the best meal you’ve had in years, which felt like a compliment, but now you think I need schooling because it’s not good enough?”
“No. I suggested schooling because a degree in something makes you more marketable.”
“Did my parents tell you to talk to me about school?”
“No. This lasagna is amazing. Period. Forget I mentioned school.”
“Is it better than my mom’s tuna noodle casserole?”
“If I say yes, will you tell on me?”
“Depends.” She set Josh’s applesauce on the table at his seat. “What are you going to do for me?”
I nearly choked, so I drank some water and cleared my throat. “I figured I’d pay you for watching him.”
“I don’t want your money.” She tucked her hands into her back pockets, tightening her shirt against her chest. Either she wasn’t wearing a bra, or it was a thin one that didn’t hide her nipples.
Fuck.
“What do you want?” I murmured, pointing my gaze at the plate of food before me.