Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
My pulse hammers in my chest, and I force a grin that probably looks as shaky as I feel. Leighton, on the other hand, is steady as ever, her voice smooth as she jumps in. “That’s what I told Miles, of course—that they love me. Not as much as they love their heated beds though.”
“Tough competition,” Coach tells her with a smile. His gaze is more serious when it turns toward me. “Now you’ve got a dog-sitter if you need help again.”
He sounds eager to play matchmaker once more and that makes me feel decidedly worse.
“Absolutely,” I say, forcing a grin.
When Coach walks away, Leighton lets out a breath, then meets my gaze for a split second in a silent acknowledgment that we dodged a bullet—thanks to her. I could barely handle the softball questions, which is not good for a guy trying to be co-captain.
I take off, my pulse still racing. I head to the weight room to burn off some adrenaline on the stationary bike. Fifteen minutes later, Tyler looms in the doorway, gesturing to my AirPods.
I pop them out and he strides in, shutting the door. It’s just us.
He’s quiet for a moment. Thoughtful, like he’s just walked in on his kids finger painting the whole kitchen. “What’s going on with you and Leighton?” His tone is curious rather than accusatory. An observation from someone who knows me so well.
“We’re friends,” I say impulsively as I pedal faster, focusing on the burn in my thighs rather than the lie on my lips.
Tyler nods a few times, like he’s taking that in stride.
“You seem friendly,” he says, and that cuts close. “But also, like you really like being friends with her.”
The really is doing a lot of work in that sentence. “She’s cool,” I say, as flatly as I can.
He arches a brow, a sign he’s not buying what I’m selling. “I hear you. I really do. But hear this—be careful.”
I sigh, slow my pace, and nod. An admission of sorts. “I will,” I say.
“There’s a lot at stake,” he adds, like I don’t know that.
“I know,” I say.
Because what else is there to say? So I shift gears, asking how things are going with his nanny situation. Then, we dive into the strategy for tonight’s game.
But the whole interaction is unsettling.
And when I play that evening, I’m determined more than ever to hide all these fucking feelings for Leighton McBride.
Good thing it’s a tough, tight game. There’s no time to linger on things like feelings. Or to look for her in the stands. There’s only time to focus on making plays.
And I do, nabbing a goal on Ford Devon’s assist to help our team beat Vancouver in our barn tonight.
“That’s what I like to see,” Coach says when the game is over and he flips me the game puck in the locker room.
It’s like he knew I needed it for beating my old team. I don’t feel like I deserve it though.
40
A SIMPLER NEXT
Miles
That night, Leighton’s waiting for me at my place, which feels all kinds of right. So I do my best to shake off the wrong feelings from earlier.
This woman curled up on my couch with my mom’s dogs, sliding her thumb across her tablet, is, well, everything. I don’t even know what she’s doing on her tablet, but it looks like a calendar template, so that tells me it’s the pictures. I like that she’s doing it here.
That feels entirely right too—a clear and bright realization, one that’s almost enough to erase the heaviness I feel.
“Hey,” I say softly—soft in tone, not volume.
She’s looking at me, so she can hear me. “Hi.”
It’s wild how one syllable from her makes my heart thump harder. Makes me want to get closer to her. I toe off my shoes and advance toward her, unknotting my tie as the dogs pop up to say hello.
Leighton raises an eyebrow. “Let me do that.”
My heart fills up again, that guilt and unease slinking away. I sink down next to her, the crew hopping back up and surrounding us. I focus on her though, inching closer, and she reaches for the tie and undoes the green knot.
Her fingers on the silk, her skin near me, the scent of her hair—it’s all so intoxicating. I want to just drown in the sounds and scents of her. Forget the shitty way I felt earlier. The guilt I’m carrying that’s all of my own making.
“You won,” she says, stating the obvious.
“You were there,” I say, stating the same.
“I know,” she says, then kisses my jaw so tenderly that I feel unsteady in an entirely good way.
I close my eyes. “I wanted to drive you home after the game,” I say on a wistful sigh.
We discussed that—if she’d waited for me after the game and we’d left together, it might look…too obvious. She leaves when she’s done taking post-game promo shots. She takes a Lyft—I installed my credit card on her app when I was gone in case she needed to take the dogs anywhere—and comes straight here.