Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Fair enough,” I reply, crossing my arms on the table.
The conversation falls flat as the waitress returns with our beers. I pick mine up to take a sip and look over in the direction of the bathrooms. I’m relieved to see Sophie coming back to melt the awkwardness left behind from this conversation.
Sophie is totally unaware of how beautiful she is. Men’s heads swivel to follow her, and women look at her with either envy or fear she’d take their man. If they only took the time to know her heart, they’d see she’d never be that type.
Frankie’s hand touches my arm, and my gaze moves her way. “Thank you.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “For what?”
“For being honest about your feelings—or rather, your lack of understanding them at this point.”
“Sure thing,” I reply, not really caring if I have her approval, but I appreciate she respects my honesty.
“And for what it’s worth,” she continues, sliding her hand back as Sophie nears, “I don’t think you’d hurt her.”
“Never intentionally.”
Frankie studies me, I’m sure wondering how much of a chance there is that I could hurt Sophie unintentionally, but then her attention is stolen as Sophie plops down on her stool and exclaims, “You’ll never guess what some women are doing in the bathroom.”
“What’s that?” Frankie asks.
Sophie throws a thumb over her shoulder, indicating where the restrooms are. “They’re making plans to get autographs from Coen Highsmith.”
I look around the restaurant as I had not seen him come in. I locate him easily, standing at a high top with a few other players. He appears to have just arrived as he’s got his keys and phone on the table, but no beer, whereas all the other guys have drinks.
“What are they planning?” I ask, giving my attention back to Sophie. “Boobographs?”
“Yes,” she proclaims with a wrinkled nose.
“What’s a boobograph?” Frankie asks, eyes moving between me and Sophie.
I take the liberty of answering. “It’s where a woman asks a player for his autograph and asks him to sign her breast. She’ll usually pull up her shirt and expose herself.”
Frankie’s mouth drops open. “Gross.”
“I doubt Coen Highsmith thinks that.” I chuckle, glancing over at him with a smirk. “He’s a known ladies’ man.”
“Oh,” Sophie says, nudging Frankie as she peeks over her shoulder. “Here they come.”
We watch as two women come out of the restroom, their eyes narrowing in on Coen Highsmith. They’re both beautiful, dressed in tight shirts and tighter jeans.
The men who were watching Sophie just minutes ago now watch these women, but in a totally different way. With Sophie, she’d be the one the guy would work up the guts to talk to, perhaps to ask her out on a date. These women are the type men want to take home just for the night.
The men at Coen’s table see the women first, and they grin and nudge at Coen playfully.
Coen gives the women a once-over as they stand there expectantly, and to my shock, he turns his back on them.
One of the women taps him on the shoulder and with great reluctance in his expression, he faces her. I don’t know what she says, but emboldened perhaps by alcohol or the generalized knowledge that all the men in here would find her sexy for doing so, she lifts her shirt and tips her head coyly, exposing her lace-covered breasts.
Her friend hands a marker to Coen.
He looks at the pen.
Looks at the woman’s breasts.
While we aren’t close enough to hear what he says, I can read his lips quite clearly.
Fuck off.
The women are stunned as the other players laugh. Coen grabs his keys and phone, pivots sharply, and stomps through the crowd toward the exit.
Sophie’s looks at me worried. “That was very anti-Coen Highsmith.”
“Maybe he’s mad they lost the game,” Frankie suggests.
“Maybe,” I murmur thoughtfully.
Maybe he’s bothered by something else. He’s not been in the best frame of mind this week, and I know it’s hard for him to assimilate with this new team. It’s only been a few weeks since the crash and maybe he’s not able to deal with it.
I make a note to keep an eye on him.
CHAPTER 17
Baden
This place couldn’t be any more perfect for me. It’s directly across the river from the arena, and I could actually make it part of my workout to run there in the morning. It’s not oversized, so I wouldn’t have a lot to maintain, but the open floor plan gives a spacious appearance.
The bedroom is large, and the bathroom has a massive shower, my preference over a tub.
The kitchen is beautiful, with brand-new appliances that will most likely never get used since I’m too lazy to cook.
It has a balcony with breathtaking views of the Roberto Clemente Bridge just a handful of blocks away, which I would use in my morning run to cross the river.