Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
"Mmhmm. Keep telling yourself that." She bats her lashes at me. "But I have photo evidence to back me up. I also have that hickey you're trying to hide."
I slap my hand over the spot in question, heat rising to my cheeks.
Serena's evil laugh ripples across the restaurant.
"I hate you," I mutter, scowling at her.
"No, you don't."
"Now you sound like Logan."
"Smart guy. You should listen to him."
I narrow my eyes on her. "Since when are you on his team?"
"Uh, since you started glowing?" She cocks her head to the side, shooting me another one of those patented looks of hers. "I'm able to admit when I'm wrong, bestie. And I was wrong about him. He may be trouble, but I think he's precisely the kind of trouble you need. The real question is when you're going to quit denying it."
I glance down at my bowl, my heart pounding. It's a damn good question, isn't it?
"Maybe I already have," I finally whisper.
Serena squeals quietly.
I shoot her a quelling look, but she just shrugs unapologetically.
"I'm not apologizing for being happy for you. You deserve it." She scans my face, her gaze probing. "So he's really the one, huh?"
"Yeah." I clear my throat, nodding. "He's really the one."
"Have you told him that yet?"
I shake my head.
"Peyton," she says softly.
"I know, I know." I exhale a sharp breath. "It's on the list."
"Well, move it up," she advises.
"You don't think it's too soon?"
"Uh, who cares what I think? Who cares what anyone thinks? He's crazy about you. You're crazy about him. Go be happy." She makes a shooing motion at me, smiling brightly. "Seriously, be happy, Peyton. Who gives a crap what anyone else has to say? It's your life. You've already spent enough of it being held to standards that aren't yours. You don't owe anyone explanations. You don't have to measure up to anyone else's expectations. All you have to do is live on your own terms. If you're happy, that's the only thing that matters."
"When will I see you again?" Serena demands half an hour later as we linger outside of the restaurant.
"Um, I'm not sure. My boss is kind of a tyrant."
"You freaking love it," she says, laughing at me.
She's right, I do. Logan and I spent all morning going over his schedule and everything on his plate. There's so much.
Between games, practice, gym time, press commitments, time with his sister and nephew, and his brand endorsements, I honestly don't know how he juggles it. I was exhausted just reviewing his schedule.
Some days, he leaves at four in the morning and doesn't get home until well after midnight. I'm already rearranging as much as I can to make sure that isn't happening any more than is strictly necessary. He's a professional athlete. He needs rest or he's going to crash hard.
Endorsement meetings, the press, and everything that isn't strictly essential can wait until non-game days. Those are strictly off limits to anyone but family, the team, and game-related press commitments. So are travel days. He shouldn't be running straight from the airport to a meeting because some brand executive couldn't respect his time.
When I told him that, he grinned and told me that I'm sexy as fuck when I'm telling him how to live his life. And then he put me on his cock and told me how to live mine.
We're not allowed to work naked anymore. Or in bed. Honestly, we probably shouldn’t be allowed to work in the same general vicinity. I accomplished way more after he ran off to practice.
"Want to come to the game with me on Thursday?"
"Uh, obviously!" Serena cries.
I laugh quietly. "I'll call you to plan it if I don't see you before then."
"You won't see me. Your fake boyfriend is going to keep you busy." She wiggles her brows at me.
We hug before parting ways.
Halfway to my car, someone shouts my name. Like an idiot, I turn…only to be blinded by a bright flash of light.
I lose my footing, stumbling into the guy walking next to me.
"Careful, sweetheart," he murmurs, grabbing me before I manage to knock us both to the ground.
"Thank you. I'm sorry." I blink up at him, trying to clear the spots from my eyes. It's hard to do when bright lights still flash. Gosh damn it. I knew our waitress was not going to be discreet!
"It's all good." The man grins down at me, his gray eyes flickering toward the photographer on the opposite side of the street. He looks oddly familiar. Not nearly as gorgeous as Logan, but definitely up there. "Uh, do you need me to walk you to your car or something?"
"No, thank you," I murmur, politely untangling myself from his arms.
"You sure? The prick over there looks kinda fucking relentless."
"I'm sure." I sigh, shooting a furtive glance in his direction. "Trust me, you walking me anywhere will only do more harm than good."