Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I take my phone off the nightstand. It’s the first thing I do when I get up. I check up on my girl. Sure enough, there is a message.
Headed back home, not feeling well. Will call you later.
Fuck. I knew it was coming. The three-hour time change doesn’t help either. When I finally roll out of bed, I throw myself straight into the shower, hoping the hot water helps my muscles.
Getting dressed, I head down to the restaurant. I usually hit up with some teammates, but I just want to be by myself. Once I sit down and look at the menu, the chair across from me is being slid out. Looking up, I see Monica. Can I catch a fucking break? She’s apparently been promoted to team assistant. I have no idea what the fuck that means, but she’s always fucking there. She is now traveling with the team.
I’ve been polite to her. But I’m reaching my limit. I have been in contact with my agent, which has been in touch with Charles to tell him she better walk a very straight line with me and my family or I’ll walk out of this contract.
“Morning,” she says cheerfully. Her hair is already coiffed and curled. Her face is in full makeup. I look at my watch, wondering if it’s somehow later than I thought it was. Nope, just nine-thirty. Maybe it’s because I’m with Parker, who doesn’t need to paint her face like a clown.
She’s wearing a white button-down top, of course leaving the top buttons open so her bra is on display. How did this turn me on? Just the thought makes the coffee in my stomach curdle.
“Morning. I really wasn’t looking to eat with anyone, Monica. I’m just not in the mood right now.” My phone signals a text has come in.
Where are you?
It’s from Parker. I guess she’s up now.
Having breakfast in the hotel lobby. How are you feeling?
I turn my phone face down because I don’t want Monica to see anything that goes on in my life. She reaches over, putting her hand over mine.
“Cooper, let me help you,” she says, batting her eyelashes at me while tracing my hand with her finger. “You know it was good between us. You can’t deny the chemistry we had. Remember that time...”
I don’t even hear what else she says because there is a commotion at the side of my table, so I turn around to come face to face with Parker. My Parker. Here.
She throws her bags down next to her. “You have got to be fucking kidding me right now.” Oh, she’s pissed. “How many fucking times do I have to fucking tell you to fuck off? You are worse than a fucking fruit fly.” She’s looking straight at Monica. “You know those annoying little bugs that never fucking die? That’s what you are. You try to start shit in front of my kids. You have me banned from the wives’ room and now I come to surprise him and you are here like a fucking dog in heat. Practically panting in heat.”
I’ve never seen her like this. She’s beautiful. She’s here in front of me, her hair braided loosely. Not a touch of makeup on her face. She’s wearing her black jeans that mold her ass, a white sweater, and black Chucks. To me she is the ray of sunshine after the fucking storm.
It takes me a while to realize that she’s actually here, but what is this stuff she is talking about?
I look at Monica, who is smart enough to not open her mouth.
“Wait a second. What is she talking about? Monica, what the fuck is she talking about?” I throw my napkin on the table standing up, placing my hands on the table, leaning forward. She doesn’t even attempt to say anything, her guilt written all over her face.
“Did you say anything to her in front of the kids?” My voice starts to rise, making some of the fellow people eating to look at this display, but I don’t give a fuck. This is the straw that broke the camel’s fucking foot or back, whatever the saying is. “Did you really get her banned from the wives’ room?” I say with my teeth clenched at this point. I’ve never been one to condone violence, but I would love to smack her. If Meghan were here, I would totally let her smack her.
Before she can even muster up her excuse, and that is exactly what it is, an excuse because she’s a spoiled fucking brat who is used to getting everything she wants. Not this time. Not me. I lean in, making sure her eyes focus on me and only me.
“Monica, I tried to be fucking nice. I tried to ignore you and be civil, but it stops right now. You see me, you don’t even fucking stop to say hello, you don’t fucking acknowledge me. I don’t fucking exist to you. Nod if you understand what I’m saying.”