Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Is Colt going to pop his cherry?” Dean sets a pizza box on the table where I’ve planted myself because it has a direct view of the bathroom door.
“Colt’s interested in a girl?” Hayes wanders in. “I thought you swung the other way.” He throws back his head and roars with laughter. “Get it? Swing? Pitcher? Baseball?”
Dean stares at the football player for a hot second before turning back to me. “So tell me about this South View girl.”
“She’s not from South View.” Tommy swoops in and grabs a slice. “She’s a newbie here. Transferred in a month ago or some shit like that.”
“School’s almost out. Why would anyone do that?” Dean asks, beer in hand.
Logan leans across my shoulder to snag a new beer. “Sports? She play softball?”
“Nah, we would’ve seen her by now.”
“Hey, handsome.” Tricia sidles up. She starts to lower herself, and I move my leg under the table. It’s not to be rude, but I don’t want to give her any ideas. She’s persistent, and I halfway admire that, which is why I do nothing to lead her on. That’d be mean, and Tricia doesn’t deserve that.
“Hey, Tricia.” I give her a slight nod. Her sunny smile dims a fraction.
“Tricia, just the person we need.” Dean comes around and slings an arm around her neck. “You know everything and everyone. Who’s the new girl?”
“What new girl? I don’t know any South View girls. Except the one who got into a fight at the Sephora store because her ex’s new girlfriend bought the last Fenty gloss and apparently it was the final straw for the South View girl. She brought up her purse, and I don’t know what was in there, but one swing and the ex’s new thing was flat on the floor. Boss girl moves. Of course, I’m not fighting anyone over a man.” She peers down at me. “Not even you, handsome.”
“Just as well. Can’t imagine I’d be worth fighting over.”
Logan hands her the beer he just opened. “We’re not talking about the South View girls but the one who goes to our school. The one hiding in the bathroom.”
All eyes swing toward the door across the room.
“GG?” As Tricia says the name, the door opens, and a small, blond head peeps out. Tricia waves her over. “She’s shy, so be nice.”
“When are we not nice?” Tommy protests, but if his tongue hangs out any farther, it will be on the floor.
GG takes a step forward, notices all the stares, and then fear laced with panic freezes her in her tracks.
I get to my feet. “Time for me to go home. I’ve got a meeting with the trainer in the morning.”
I walk off before anyone can stop me, arrowing straight toward GG. As I sweep by her, I grab her by the waist and herd her out the door, blocking my team’s view with my larger frame. GG is a slight girl, and a stiff wind could blow her over, so she’s no match for my six foot four inch, two hundred pound frame.
I don’t stop moving until we reach my car. I jerk open the passenger door. “Get in.”
“Huh?” The girl bats her baby blues at me, and I clench my jaw to keep my own tongue from falling out.
I grit my teeth. “I said get in.”
“But I came with Tricia.”
“And I’m taking you home. So get in or I’ll put you in.”
Her quiet eyes spark. “No. You can’t tell me what to do.”
The instant the protest comes out of her mouth, my dick goes from semi to full throttle. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it’s a little terrifying, which is probably why my next actions are out of character. I pick her up and thrust her into the passenger seat and slam the door shut before she can utter another sound. Like some kind of action stunt man, I place one hand on the hood of my Charger and slide across to the other side. The entire process of getting her into the car and me dropping into the driver’s seat takes ten seconds, tops. Her mouth’s half open as I gun the engine. Two classmates coming up the road jump out of the way.
“Are you crazy? You almost hit them.” She tugs on the door, but it’s locked.
“Buckle up,” I order. I can’t describe what’s in my head right now. It’s a drumbeat, an insistence that if I don’t get her away from the party, away from other guys, away from anyone, something dark and dirty is going to bust out of me. I take a hard turn at the corner, and she falls into me. “I said put the damn seatbelt on.”
Her hands are shaking as she does as I order, which makes me feel like shit. I’m scaring her, but, hell, I’m scaring myself. I’ve never had the urge to kill anyone, not even on the mound. I’m better than anyone I face. I can strike anyone out. I have no fear up there. But when she came out of the bathroom and every dick in the room pointed in her direction, I wanted to hulk out and destroy the entire room, even my teammates. Mine. Mine. Mine, thrums my blood.