Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“Whatever,” I mutter to myself as I sit up.
I open the windows I closed when my dad walked in and smile to myself. I wasn’t looking at porn. Not exactly. But as I look at the picture of Carter Cole on my screen, I feel my cheeks flush and think I might as well have been doing what my dad accused me of. Or maybe it’s thinking I wouldn’t mind filming porn with him that’s making my stomach churn.
Six-three with wavy, sandy blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes, he’s chiseled like a Greek god and just exudes masculinity. Guys talk about alpha male this and alpha male that these days. Carter Cole doesn’t talk about it—he just is one. Every square inch of his body is taut and toned, and the mere sight of him is enough to make my heart stop dead in my chest. Just thinking about him now makes my pulse race and butterflies flutter in my belly. And staring into those dreamy blue eyes makes me uncomfortably wet.
Wow. It’s probably safe to say I’ve got a crush on Carter. It’s probably safer to say I’ve had a crush on him my whole life. Having literally grown up around the game, I’ve been around pro athletes all my life. And probably because I grew up around these guys and have seen what they’re really like away from the cameras, I’m never all that impressed by them. But Carter is the first player I remember really rooting for when I was younger. He always seemed so cool and carried himself with such a swagger that I was infatuated from the start.
He’s the only ball player who’s ever made me fangirl like this. When I heard we were signing him, I was more than a little excited. The first time I saw him in the building, I was like a giddy schoolgirl, which made me feel like an absolute idiot. But seeing him live and in the flesh made me feel stupidly starstruck in a way I’d never felt before so I handled it like the mature adult I was—I ran away. And since then, I’ve been purposely avoiding him just because I’m terrified I’m going to say something dumb.
Of course, having him step in and defend me wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to formally introduce myself to him. I mean, like I said, I’m not the damsel-in-distress kind of girl and I don’t need people fighting my battles for me. Ordinarily, if somebody did that, I’d probably take offense to it and let them know I didn’t need them to come riding to my defense. I’m more than capable. I’m very much my mother’s daughter that way.
I have to be honest, though. Something about watching Carter step in and put the rookie in his place like that, something about the way he stood there and seemed ready to fight on my behalf—quite literally—was kind of… hot. I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who enjoyed seeing a man ready to throw blows to defend me. But… I have to admit. Watching Carter get in Ryder’s face like that kind of turned me on.
It’s not something I’m proud of. Although, I’m not particularly ashamed of it either. Honestly, I’m a little confused by it because, like I said, I’m not that kind of girl. At least… I didn’t think I was. As I look at Carter’s picture on my computer screen and think of the way I felt when he was face to face with Ryder, when he was so protective and defensive of me, I start to think that maybe I am.
Or maybe it’s just how Carter makes me feel.
3
CARTER
I’m standing on the sidelines yet again, watching Ryder Simmons taking the reps as Coach B runs the team drills. It’s another hot day in the desert, but it’s the anger flowing through my veins that’s got me feeling more heated than the actual temperature. As I stand here, my agent, Lane Monahan, walks over and takes a spot beside me.
“I got your message last night,” Lane says.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That they were going to draft Simmons.”
“Of course, I didn’t,” he says.
“When we met with Steve and Coach B, they made it sound like I was their QB1. And yet, here I am standing off to the side, watching the rookie get all the reps. How did this happen, Lane?”
He runs a hand through his silver hair, his azure eyes hidden behind a pair of stylish, designer sunglasses. As always, he's neatly dressed in khakis, a dark green polo shirt, and expensive shoes. As he likes to say, he dresses for success. Lane is good at what he does, and he’s done right by me my entire career. I’ve never had a complaint with him. Not until now.