Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Reina’s probably in the ladies’ room, so I stride over, determination in my step. “Hey, Beck. About that bid—thanks, but I can’t let you drop that kind of cash just to save my streak.”
Beckett looks up from tipping the woman behind the counter, one eyebrow quirked. “It wasn’t about the streak.”
“Fine, you were looking out for me, which is awesome.” I clap his shoulder. “I appreciate it, man. But I can’t let you cover that. I’m going to pay you back.”
Well, I already did, but he’ll find out soon enough. Semantics and all.
Beckett laughs, low and easy. “You don’t owe me anything, Ash,” he says, thanking the woman and stepping away from the counter and next to a scalloped mirror that looks like it costs five figures. “And I’m not taking your money.”
I give him a stern look. “You can’t just drop that kind of cash and brush it off. I can cover it.”
“And so can I,” he says. “Look, that situation was going to be messy, and neither one of us needs that right now, but especially you. You’re the face of Total Teamwork, man. Maeve came to me with the situation, and Reina and I made the decision to put up the money. It was for a good cause, and we’re always happy to give to charity. Besides, I didn’t want Miranda Blush anywhere near you. That woman’s trouble.”
“I appreciate that,” I admit, but I can’t let this go. “And yet…I still felt like I owe you something.”
My best friend’s a smart man. He shoots me a searing stare. “No, you don’t. We’re all good. We’re in this together. You hear me?”
He makes a fair point, but sometimes I just like to get my way. Fine, fine. Most of the time. “I do. But sometimes a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
He shoots me a searing stare. “No, you didn’t.”
I flash a big grin. “Yes. I did. Have fun with the wife tonight. Catch you later.”
I don’t even give him the chance to protest. I take off, heading into the cool San Francisco night. Once outside, as the fog curls its arms around me, I open an app to grab a ride home when a hand comes down on my shoulder. I don’t flinch since it’s my job to handle surprises.
I turn around to see…Miranda. Her smile is as sleek as her hair. Her eyes glint with opportunity.
“We could still go out. Maybe it’s even better this way,” she says, her voice a purr, her hand curling tighter around me. I hear a rustle nearby. Someone else, maybe? Who knows?
“Thanks, but I’m busy,” I say coolly. It’s not the first time a woman has sashayed over and put her hands on me without asking. I’d be naive to think it’ll be the last.
“You can’t be busy every night though,” she says, inching closer, hand gripping tighter.
I reach for her hand and peel it off me. And I do mean peel, because holy hell, this woman has claws, and they are digging in. I’m well aware that eyes are always on pro athletes. That rustle could be someone, and someones have cameras. One wrong move can lead to a scandal. So I’m careful as I let Miranda’s hand fall, then step back from her.
“Thanks again for coming tonight. Really appreciate your support,” I say as shoes click toward me on the sidewalk, coming from the other direction.
I turn to the sound.
A vision emerges in the foggy night. A woman sporting a vest, a trench coat, and an attitude.
I fight off a smile.
“Hey, babe,” she says, then flashes a saccharin smile at Miranda. “And hey, no hard feelings about that whole thing in there, right?” Maeve waves a hand airily at the mansion. “I just couldn’t let anyone else get their hands on this man.”
She slides right up to me, wraps an arm around my neck, the other around my waist, and drops a kiss on my cheek, like the date she won is real.
Right now, with her wedged against me, the date feels real.
That’s my excuse at least. Since this might seem like a bad idea later, but right now, I have zero regrets as I make a game-day decision, turn my face, and impulsively capture her lips with mine.
A soft brush. An almost-chaste touch. But I smell sweet plums, and I taste raspberry lipstick. Most of all, I feel Maeve’s mouth as she kisses me back. Brushing her lips against mine. Parting them the slightest bit.
An invitation, perhaps, for more?
Like I could say no. I coast my lips across hers. In no time, her fingers curl tighter around my neck. Her other hand presses more firmly on my waist. The tiniest gust of breath from her sweet mouth has my chest overheating. I cup her cheek, and my head pings with wild possibilities. What if this kiss became more real? What if it was a prelude to something else entirely?