Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Color me clueless, but what does that mean?
Football I know like the back of my hand.
Life on a ranch in the middle of Texas is my comfort zone.
I’m used to dudes and my teammates and my coaches.
I’m used to women hitting on me or coming on to me when it’s obvious and plain as day, but for some reason I cannot interpret the meaning behind the words of a chick I’ve been spending time with and have gotten to know.
Sure, we fucked.
But I thought she just wanted to be friends.
“I thought you just wanted to be friends.”
That’s it.
That’s all I can think to say, because my mind is reeling, a virtual whirlwind of a million thoughts, all of them beginning and ending with Ryann naked.
thirty-five
ryann
“A dick a day keeps the vibrator away…”
– Sav
This was a mistake.
A huge, huge mistake.
I never should have said it.
If I could snatch the words back, I would, because Dallas isn’t moving—and he isn’t speaking.
We regard each other, our knees now touching, mine covered by a plaid blanket for warmth and security.
Dallas says nothing, only watching me with those dark eyes. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, the hair on his face as dark as the hair on his head, making him look dangerous and severe.
I know he’s not.
His thick brows furrow. “I thought you just wanted to be friends.”
I did. I do. “We are.”
Friends, I mean.
It’s just…
Why is it so hard to get the words out? I couldn’t have cared less when Diego broke up with me. Couldn’t have cared less about those times he canceled on me. Didn’t hesitate to tell Simon Stevens I wasn’t interested in anything serious when he told me he was in love with me back in freshman year.
That pep talk in the bathroom with Winnie is doing me little good.
What’s the worst thing Dallas could say, you wonder?
Well, for starters, he could tell me he doesn’t have time to date me, which I would know is a lie because:
We have class together and see one another twice a week during the day.
We’ve spent numerous hours together before and after practices and games.
He wasn’t too tired to come hoofing it to my apartment tonight—without an invitation, might I add.
He could tell me he isn’t invested like I am and let me down easy.
He could tell me, as far as girlfriends go, I’m not his type.
I have no idea what his actual type is, only that I met a need, which was fooling the team owners interested in offering him a position on their team.
But what if he doesn’t?
I take a deep breath. Shift on the couch so I’m cross-legged and facing him, moving the blanket so it’s no longer on my lap.
“So what I’m hearin’—just to make sure I’m not misunderstandin’ you—is that you…like me.”
Like him. “Sure. That’s one way of putting it.”
That makes him laugh.
He grins at me. “Is it so hard to say you have the hots for me?”
“The hots for you?” I repeat, slight indignation lacing my tone. “I never said I have the hots for you.”
I mean, yeah—I totally have the hots for him.
What warm-blooded young woman wouldn’t?
Dallas snorts. “You just said you would take all of this on.” His hands move over his body.
“I did say that.”
“And aren’t you gonna say anythin’ else? You’re just going to clam up and leave me guessin’?”
The Southern accent alone is enough to make me melt; the grin only punctuates the shiver sliding down my spine.
“Can I be honest?”
“Please.”
“I have no idea why I’m telling you this,” I admit, the blush creeping onto my cheeks.
“Darlin’, you haven’t told me nothin’ so far.”
Darlin’.
It’s the first time he’s called me darlin’, and I don’t hate it as far as endearments go. Wouldn’t push him out of bed if he happened to groan it while he was coming—but that’s getting ahead of myself.
“Ryann, are you tryin’ to tell me you want to end our PR stunt?”
No?
Yes.
No.
I panic. On one hand, if I say yes, he might think I don’t want to see him at all. On the other hand, if I say no, he might think I want to keep pretending.
“Ryann…you’re freakin’ out.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. I can see it in your eyes.” He reaches over and takes my hands. “Hey, if that’s what you want then…let’s do it.”
“Do what?”
“Stop pretending.”
Did my shoulders just sag from disappointment? Defeat?
Dallas’s middle and forefinger touch my chin, lifting it. “Hey. Look at me.”
I can’t.
Can’t look him in the eye, afraid of what I might see.
“Let’s try it.”
I raise my eyes. Raise my brows.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m game.”
“Are we talking about the same thing?”
“Who can be sure? You won’t say what you’re thinkin’!” He cackles. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty brain of yours?”
“You want to try…this? Us?” Oh my God, I said it. I SAID THE WORDS.