Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I turned to face Kayla. Every muscle in her body was alert and tense, straining against the desire to charge. It was a sensation I was all too familiar with. How many times had some opponent, like Tariq Crawford, gotten in my face and said shit that made my blood boil? How many times had I choked off the urge to retaliate?
“Be specific,” she said with her outdoor voice, “because I can’t tell who you’re talking to. I’m surrounded by losers!”
I didn’t care for that, but the insult was a mosquito bite. One quick, sharp moment, followed by a lingering annoyance I forgot when chairs scraped loudly against the floor. The other patrons, who’d been silent before, came to their feet.
“Screw you, lady!” a male voice rang out behind me. “Harris, is she with you?”
I stalked to Kayla and hooked a hand under her elbow, turning her to face the door. “Time to go.” It came out gruff, so she wouldn’t argue with me.
A different voice chimed in. “Does Coach Weiss know you’re fucking around with a girl from Ohio State?”
I grabbed the handle and yanked so hard, the force sent the door slamming into the wall. Didn’t care. All that mattered was getting us the fuck out of there before things escalated. She looked like she was itching for a fight, but at least she didn’t struggle with me as I tugged her out onto the sidewalk.
-9-
KAYLA
Jay’s grip on my arm was a vise. I stumbled along the pavement and spun out of his hold, whirling to face him on the sidewalk.
He put his hands on his hips, and my traitorous gaze lingered over the forearm porn he was displaying. He had such gorgeous arms. Too bad they were attached to the body of a man who went to Michigan. His expression was hard to read. Was he pissed at me? Relieved we’d left the bar where I’d nearly suffocated breathing such vile air?
The last comment someone had yelled out was haunting me.
“Why would Michigan’s football coach care what you do?”
Jay’s forehead knotted when he frowned, and he followed it up with a sigh.
Oh, no. I banded my arms over my stomach and bent at the waist, suffering an invisible punch to my core.
He’d looked familiar, but I hadn’t placed him. I knew he played football in high school, but didn’t ask if he continued in college. Part of me, on some level, had already figured this out and refused to accept it. I’d trained myself over the years to tune out all things Michigan-related.
“No,” I whispered, talking to the universe rather than Jay.
“Hi.” His voice was brimming with fake enthusiasm. “I’m Jay Harris, number eighty-eight for Michigan. Can you help me find my ass? I hired a detective, but he hasn’t gotten back to me.”
I limped over to the edge of the sidewalk and sat, planting my butt on the curb. I stared vacantly across the way at the train tracks running parallel to the road which looked like they hadn’t seen a train in years. Too bad. I would have hopped one to escape if it’d rolled by right now. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
The road was quiet, other than the buzz of bugs in the grassy field beyond the tracks. Footsteps came closer, and he dropped down to sit on the curb beside me, stretching his long legs out while leaning back on his arms.
“What’s your deal?”
My eyes fell shut. “My dad used to coach defense for OSU. My mom gave birth to me right after a game, in the stands. Everyone in my family eats, sleeps, and breathes Ohio State.” My eyes blinked open and I gazed at him. “We bleed red.”
“Newsflash for you. Everyone bleeds red.”
“You know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t. It doesn’t matter.”
He exhaled loudly, and his warm breath floated across my face. He was too close. His eyes were too blue. “Kayla. You liked me five minutes ago. You liked me enough to track me down here.”
All true, but it didn’t change the fact his reaction to the Michigan fight song The Victors was wildly different from my own. Just the opening strains of it made my stomach roll.
“Dammit, Dave!” I said, cursing my friend’s new husband who wasn’t even here. “He knows how much I hate Michigan. I should have figured out something was up when he told me I was going to love this place.” I was wound up from the tension in the bar, and my anger was all over the place. On top of it, I was struggling with crushing disappointment. I had really liked Jay. “You sure you don’t maybe play for Michigan State?”
It was a joke, but filled with hope. MSU was the lesser of two evils, and right now, I’d happily take it.