Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Dust, this is Colby and Jake.” Stone did the introductions and both stepped forward, shaking my hand.
I was fangirling.
I wasn’t used to this.
Stone was hiding a grin. “What are you making?”
“Caesar salad with kale and salmon.” I had no clue more people were coming. I had no clue these two were coming.
I needed to start watching Stone’s games more. All that happened with my life, I was having another moment about what kind of world Stone lived in. I knew it. I saw the fans’ reactions, the blogs, but seeing these two other professional athletes in Stone’s kitchen, all three of them looking like they hang out all the time, my stomach was doing double time on the twisting, turning, somersaulting. It was just one big continuous loop.
“You want something else? I can make something else.”
He stepped closer, angling my phone toward him. His eyebrows went up. “You been doing some research?”
I flushed. “You like the pizza so much, thought I could make myself useful. Do some cooking for you. Unless you have a chef?”
He was trying real hard to keep from bursting out laughing at my expense. I rolled my eyes, knowing my face was resembling a red sea star. “You’re annoying.”
Yeah. He lost the battle. He burst out laughing, then hugged me to him, his hand rubbing over my back quick. “Never seen you like this. It’s cute.”
Jake and Colby shared a look.
I elbowed Stone away, fighting from dropping my eyes to the floor. “So, um, I can make more food. Pasta? I can do a healthy primavera. You have all the stuff here. I’m actually impressed.”
Stone leaned back against the counter by me. “I have a girl who comes in and cooks a bunch of meals for me every week. I gave her last week off ’cause you were here.” He turned to the guys. “You guys want lunch?”
The two glanced at each other. Both shrugged.
Colby said, “That’d be great. Yeah.”
Stone said to me, “Games start in an hour. We were going to watch some tapes beforehand.” He was eyeing all the ingredients I’d pulled out on the counter. “You got this? Or you need help?”
It was my last day before heading back to school. Minus the freakout yesterday, the concussion was fading. I was more clearheaded. It took everything I had not to break down and dig into my textbooks, embracing my inner nerd for a bit, but one more day. I was giving myself one more day, and I owed Siobhan a call.
So, trying to stick to that plan, cooking had become my outlet.
He was right. I’d pulled up trying to find what a typical pro football athlete food program was, and it was mostly healthy food, mixed with junk food. Stone was a wide receiver. I wasn’t sure, but I found a few programs for what a pro soccer player would eat. I was adapting one of those programs for Stone. Though, hearing he had a girl who did his menus, I wasn’t sure how helpful I’d be.
One day at a time.
I was finishing up when he came back to the kitchen. I was pulling out the baked potatoes, adding broccoli over the top with a sprinkle of cheese. His arms came around both sides of me on the counter, and he leaned over me, looking over my shoulder.
“That looks good.”
“Hmmm.” I turned in his arms, leaning back so I could see him face to face.
He smirked. “You have a crush on my teammates?”
“No!” I laughed. This was mortifying. “But I just wasn’t expecting the quarterback and lead cornerback from the Texas Kings to walk into your kitchen. That’s all.”
“I’m the lead wide receiver for the team.”
“I know, but you’re you. You’re Stone.” I smacked his chest with the back of my hand. “I don’t look at you like that. You’re you. They’re…them.” Lame. So lame, but true. My face was warming up again. “They’re superstars.”
He straightened, some of the amusement leaving him. “Colby was a third-round pick. Jake was second round. I was second overall draft pick.” He was back in my space, pushing me back, crowding me. “You know what that means, right? I was a first-round pick. One other guy got picked before me, and he was the Heisman winner. You understanding where I’m going here?”
I placed my palms on his chest, but he was like cement. He wasn’t moving. His heart just picked up pace and I got what he was saying. Still didn’t matter.
I shrugged. “What do you want me to say? I grew up with skinned knees and you teaching me the most efficient way to pick your nose. No. You’re not a big mega-athlete star to me.”
He barked out a laugh. “Shit. That’s embarrassing.” But he stopped pushing me. “I get it. Just, if you start getting feelings for any of my teammates, talk to me first. Yeah? Since you know.” He pushed his groin up against mine, grinding there a second.