Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
That sucked.
But it also sucked that I wasn’t out there with my pads on.
All of this just made me angrier.
So I paced the mansion, noticing that Noah was avoiding me more than usual, and searched the entire monstrosity to look for him. He wasn’t on either floor, or the gym, and all the cars were in the garage. Had that mechanic douche canoe come to whisk him away from the prison of my house or what? But no. He would have told me he was leaving. Maybe. I couldn’t remember what he’d been doing for the past couple of weeks because I’d been too rammy and pent-up to be a personable human.
I paced out to the pool in my compression shorts and a gray T-shirt and caught sight of a figure moving around the pool house. As soon as I strode over to the building, Noah darted out the door and shut it behind him.
“Hey!”
I eyeballed him. “What are you doing in there?”
“Cleaning up?”
“Liar. We already agreed that you don’t clean up after me. Especially not in rooms that I don’t use. Like the pool house.”
Noah nodded. “Why don’t you use it, anyway? It’s awesome. Basically a guest house.”
“That was a weak subject change.” I started for the door, but he stepped in my way. “Noah, what are you up to?”
“Nothing. Seriously. I was just cleaning up.”
Rocking back on my heels, I considered his beet-red, lying face. “Is that mechanic idiot in there? Because you fucking some other dude on my property isn’t in the contract.”
Noah arched a brow. “Some other dude?”
“You heard me. Is he in there?”
“No. I’m not banging Case in your pool house.”
“Are you having some weak-ass book club meeting with him? Because I told you he isn’t allowed anywhere but the driveway.”
Noah rolled his eyes, and I took that opportunity to push him out of the way. I went through the door, he clamped his hands around one of my biceps and totally failed to drag me to a stop. I entered the pool house with him hot on my heels, and stopped in my tracks. He bumped into me.
“What the hell?”
I wasn’t seeing what I’d expected, and I wasn’t even sure what I was seeing. Truth be told, I had no idea what a pool house was for. The exterior was a wet bar slash grilling area, but inside was just fancy white leather furniture, another monstrous television built into the damn wall, and a kitchen. It was open and airy, with wooden scalloped ceilings and big bay windows—probably meant for people who did a lot of entertaining. I’d bought the house with the damn pool house already furnished. But I didn’t use it.
And now Noah was using it for . . . who the hell knew what. He’d set up tables along the length of the room filled with stacks of food and drinks. Not catered, because Noah was too damn levelheaded and miserly to dole out my money for extra help, but he’d picked up hordes of choice goodies from places all over the island.
“What the hell is all this?”
“A surprise?”
I swung around and wound up way too close to his face. So close that I knocked his glasses off by accident. He scrunched up his face and glared.
“What kind of surprise?”
“If you’d wait ten minutes, you’d know,” he griped.
“I hate surprises. Just tell me what the hell is going on.”
He gave an extravagant eye roll. “It’s the Barons’ bye week.”
His use of football terminology gave me a boner. “Your point being?”
“My point being since they don’t have a game this week, I invited a few guys over.” Noah shifted from foot-to-foot, seeming to lose confidence in his plan as I glared into his face. “Well, technically, I touched base with Simeon and Marcus, and they picked who to invite. About twenty guys? For a scrimmage. Jasmine came over and helped me stripe the lawn like a football field. It took all morning. The fact that you have a football field-sized lawn is pretty ridiculous, just so you know.”
I blinked.
“You’ve just been so miserable,” Noah said quickly, nervousness working into his voice. “There’s only been three games, but your mood gets lower every time you watch. And then you work out harder until you’re so sore you have to take those long ice baths, and I feel like you wouldn’t need to do that if only you could play.” He waved at the food. “I was hoping this could help. Well, playing. Not watching your team members gorge themselves on food.”
When I didn’t say anything, he started to back away. “But it’s not too late to cancel. If you don’t want this—”
I cut him off by obliterating his personal space and pressing my mouth against his. Just a touch, a taste of coffee and peppermint once his lips parted in surprise, and then I ended it. His eyes had opened wide, looking even bigger without his glasses, and he’d raised a hand to hover near my shoulder.