Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
And then she saw him.
Standing at the counter with his back turned to them was the lucky winner of the man wheel. All she could see was a head of dark brown hair, a broad torso in a navy blue sweater and long legs encased in denim.
Oh, and the ass. Hard not to notice that tight ass.
“Excellent selection,” Darcy teased, following her gaze.
“I can’t see his face,” she complained, trying not to crane her neck.
“Patience, grasshopper.”
Hayden watched the man drop a few bills on the sleek mahogany counter and accept a pint glass of beer from the bartender. When he turned around, she sucked in an impressed gasp. The guy had the face of a Greek god. Chiseled, rugged, with intense blue eyes that caused her heart to pound, and sensual lips that made her mouth tingle. And he was huge. With his back turned he hadn’t seemed this big, but now, face-to-face, she realized he stood well over six feet and had the kind of chest a woman wanted to rest her head on. She could see the muscular planes of his chest even through his sweater.
“Wow,” she muttered, more to herself than Darcy.
A shiver of anticipation danced through her as she imagined spending the night with him.
Beer in hand, the man strode toward one of the pool tables at the far end of the bar and headed for the cue rack. Setting his glass on the small ledge along the wall, he grabbed a cue and proceeded to rack the balls on the green felt table. A second later a tall, lanky college-age kid approached and they exchanged a few words. The kid snatched up a cue and joined Mr. Delicious at the table.
Hayden turned back to Darcy and saw her friend rolling her eyes. “What?” she said, feeling a bit defensive.
“What are you waiting for?” Darcy prompted.
She glanced at the dark-haired sex god again. “I should go over there?”
“If you’re serious about getting laid tonight then, yeah, go over there.”
“And do what?”
“Shoot some pool. Talk. Flirt. You know, look under the hood before you commit to buying the car.”
“He’s not a car, Darce.”
“Yeah, but if he was, he’d be something dangerously hot, like a Hummer.”
Hayden burst out laughing. If there was one thing to be said about Darcy, it was that she truly was one of a kind.
“Come on, go over there.”
She swallowed. “Now?”
“No, next week.”
Her mouth grew even drier, prompting her to down the rest of her wine.
“You’re seriously nervous about this, aren’t you?” Darcy said, blue eyes widening. “When did you become so shy? You give lectures to classes of hundreds. He’s just one man, Hayden.”
Her eyes drifted back in the guy’s direction. She noticed how his back muscles bunched together as he rested his elbows on the pool table; how his taut backside looked practically edible in those faded jeans.
He’s just one man, she said to herself, shaking off her nerves.
Right.
Just one tall, sexy, oozing-with-raw-masculinity man.
This would be a piece of cake.
Two
Brody Croft circled the pool table, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s as he examined his options. With a quick nod, he pointed and said, “Thirteen, side pocket.”
His young companion, wearing a bright red Hawaiian T-shirt that made Brody’s eyes hurt, raised his eyebrows. “Really? Tough shot, man.”
“I can handle it.”
And handle it he did. The ball slid cleanly into the pocket, making the kid beside him groan.
“Nice, man. Nice.”
“Thanks.” He moved to line up his next shot when he noticed his opponent staring at him. “Something wrong?”
“No, uh, nothing’s wrong. Are—are you Brody Croft?” the guy blurted out, looking embarrassed.
Brody smothered a laugh. He’d wondered how long it would take the kid to ask. Not that he was conceited enough to think everyone on the planet knew who he was, but seeing as this bar was owned by Luke Stevens and Jeff Wolinski, two fellow Warriors, most of the patrons were bound to be hockey fans.
“At your service,” he said easily, extending his hand.
The kid gripped it tightly, as if he were sinking in a pit of quicksand and Brody’s hand was the lifeline keeping him alive. “This is so awesome! I’m Mike, by the way.”
The look of pure adoration on Mike’s face brought a knot of discomfort to Brody’s gut. He always enjoyed meeting fans, but sometimes the hero-worship went a little too far.
“What do you say we keep playing?” he suggested, gesturing to the pool table.
“Yeah. I mean, sure! Let’s play!” Mike’s eyes practically popped out of his angular face. “I can’t wait to tell the guys I played a round of pool with Brody Croft.”
Since he couldn’t come up with a response that didn’t include something asinine, like “thank you,” Brody chalked up the end of his cue. The next shot would be more difficult than the first, but again, nothing he couldn’t manage. He’d worked in a bar like this one back when he’d played for the farm team and was barely bringing in enough cash to feed himself. He used to hang out after work shooting pool with the other waiters, eventually developing a fondness for the game. With the way his schedule was now, he rarely had time to play anymore.