Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I blow on my fingernails. “Don’t forget I play to win.”
“You bastard,” he mutters.
“You mean you fucking steely-eyed, brilliant bastard who just schooled you in your game?”
“Yes,” he grumbles, then adds, “I’m not worthy.”
“That is true. But I’ll treat you to tacos anyway.”
We reach the truck, which features an illustration of a Chihuahua holding a big taco. “Is that the owner’s dog?”
Patrick nods. “Yup. Roman’s pup is Ruby. She has a dog bed attached on the side of the truck. That way she won’t get in the way of the food, but she can hang with Roman.”
I walk around the truck, smiling when I spot the cute min-pin critter sleeping in a comfy-looking bed. I snap a shot of the truck and send it to Milo in New York. He’s obsessed with his pooch too, and his dog goes to work with him every day at his bike shop.
When I return to Patrick, he says, “Roman will probably want a selfie with you. You cool with that?”
“Always,” I say.
“Good. I figured the team would be happy as well, since they love your good-guy-about-town image. They released some shots of you from that charity thing you did the other week.”
I don’t follow that stuff too closely, but I know Maddox does, and if there were a problem, he’d have told me. Still, I’m curious. “What sort of shots?”
“Just you shaking hands, chatting with donors and such. Oh, and like you asked me to, I got in touch with the org about you doing volunteer work and making a donation.” He confirms the amount we discussed and suggests we meet with Paul. “You’re still good with that?”
“Absolutely. Thanks for making that happen.”
“And that was a nice shot of you and the babe from the front office,” he says offhand as we move up in line.
Wait. Hold the hell on. “What do you mean?” I ask cautiously.
“You and the blonde. There was a shot of the two of you in front of the banner,” he says, and instantly, I relax.
“Oh, cool. Yeah, she’s fun to chat with. We’re buds,” I say, not quite making eye contact.
Carter’s the only one who’s privy to the full truth. But there’s no reason to tell Patrick the details since nothing is going on with Brooke and me. And he doesn’t know Brooke is my IOU. He thinks the woman I was texting was just a random hookup.
It’s better that way. If I tell him, he’ll worry. He has ever since college when I was involved with Marie my senior year. The guy has never forgotten what went down when I dated her, so I don’t need to stress him out until there’s something to tell.
I shake off my worries, too, when we reach the window and Patrick drops a hand to my shoulder and introduces me to Roman.
A tattooed but baby-faced burly man extends his hand from behind the window. “Good to meet you. Big fan. Whatever you want. It’s on the house.”
“Thanks, man, but I’m more than happy to pay for your fine food. And I appreciate the compliment.”
“And I’d appreciate it if you could bring a ring to Los Angeles,” he says with a wry smile.
“I will absolutely do my best,” I say, and when the food is ready, Roman refuses the cash, so I stuff a fifty in the tip jar.
Roman grabs his phone, and we smile for the camera.
After we eat, Patrick and I wander along Ocean Avenue. When we near the old parking garage, that was converted into a movie theater, my gaze snags on the marquee for Silver Screen Theater. A wave of nostalgia crashes into me. “It’s tonight. Fake Play.”
I’d forgotten the showing was this evening.
Patrick knits his brow in question. “That old flick?”
“That old flick is a good flick, man.” I check the time. It’s almost seven. Perfect.
“You and your love of old movies,” he says, shaking his head, amused.
“Me and my love of old movies are going in. See you later.”
I give Patrick a tip of the cap, and head for the ticket counter, when he calls out, “Dude, I’m going with you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “To see that old flick? I don’t want to cramp your new, flashy style.”
“I’ll just pretend I don’t know you. It’ll be fine.”
“Too bad I was going to treat. Not so sure I will now,” I say as I slap some bills at the counter and buy the tickets anyway. I like to treat, especially after college.
“Now I do owe you,” he says with a smirk as we head into the lobby.
“I’ll be sure to send a clown to collect.”
He growls. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might,” I say as I catch sight of a woman at the popcorn counter who looks a lot like Brooke.
And then…Brooke.
Wowzers.
She wears a pink sundress and strappy sandals. Her hair falls loosely over her tanned shoulders.