Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“No, I'm disgusted that you keep moaning like you're having an orgasm. This isn't When Harry Met Sally—you're not filming a scene for a movie.”
“Come on. I wasn't even being loud. No one else could hear me but you.”
Molly spreads some butter on her bread, then puts a bit of barbecue on the top. “How do you know?”
I turn my head and find an older couple watching us. The woman’s lips are pursed, and as soon as we make eye contact, she glances away.
“Okay, fine. I won’t moan anymore.”
Molly laughs. “Good. It’s obnoxious.”
“Is there anything else I do that annoys you? Let’s get it out of the way.”
“Nothing I can see—not yet. But I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
“I just bet you will…”
She nods. Winks. “You can count on it.”
eleven
molly
I take back everything I said about Eli not needing me.
This packed event is a damn zoo!
Crowded.
Wall-to-wall people, most of them players and their fans, family and friends.
I knew this was going to be a celebration. The local professional basketball team has made their way into the playoffs, and hundreds and thousands of people are gathered outside in the streets.
It’s loud.
Intense.
Nothing like anything I’ve ever seen.
But inside this party?
Just as incredible.
I’m standing with my back to the bar, watching as Eli mingles. His eyes rise to meet mine every now and again, but so far, I’ve seen zero reasons to go marching over and glue myself to his side.
He truly has a knack for people—a knack for making them smile and laugh and feel good.
Unlike myself, who grumbles and sneers and is sarcastic because I cannot seem to filter myself.
I turn and belly up to the bar, resting my glass down, smiling at the bartender in this crowded bar. It’s dark and moody—intimate despite the hundreds of people.
“Is the number of people in here breaking like, a bunch of fire code violations?”
The guy is wiping out a glass with a white rag. “What?” He leans closer so he can hear me better, which gives me a chance to get a better look at him.
Whoa.
Piercing blue eyes. Blond hair arranged in a man-bun.
Sleeves of his blue button-down shirt pushed up to his elbows.
He’s tan and fit, and clearly, everyone who works in this place is good-looking because the female bartender at the end of the counter is a knockout.
“I said, isn’t the number of people in here breaking at least a few fire codes?” I’m definitely shouting at him, and, remembering that I’m surrounded by people, bring it down a notch. “But I was only kidding.”
“You’re right, though. It probably is.” He laughs. “Even the cops have popped in to say hi. It’s not every day that Mario Romero and Kidd Spencer hang out in town. Everyone wants a picture.”
“Cool, cool.” I nod along, even if I don’t think it’s all that cool.
Does that make me sound like a dick? Not being impressed with the celebrity and the fanning and the amount of money floating around the room.
“You want a different drink?” His eyes stray to the abandoned flute of Rose on the counter, its glass glistening with sweat.
“No—sorry, guess I’m just not in the mood to drink tonight.”
“Gotcha. Do you want me to take the glass from you?”
“No, I’ll hold on to it. Makes a good prop, or the perfect decoy if someone wants to hold hands.”
I expect him to laugh, but instead, he straightens, eyes on someone behind me.
A someone who’s close—too close—pressed against my back, hand at my waist, voice in my ear. “You’re supposed to be watching out for me, and you’re failing miserably.”
I grin as Eli chastises me. “You looked as if you’d had it handled.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Someone goosed me on the ass, and you were nowhere to be found! You should have your eyes on me at all times.”
“Is that why you came over here? Because I stopped looking at you?” I roll my eyes back so hard they can see them up in heaven.
“Sir, can I get you anything?” The bartender’s eyes are as wide as if Kidd Spencer himself were sidling up for a drink.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Are you sure, sir? Another Manhattan?”
“Do I want another?”
The bartender grins. “I think you do.”
Eli nods. “Alright then. Guess I’m having another!”
I glance between Eli and the bartender, who seems to know him or at least recognize him and appears to be…fangirling over him?
Can that be right?
I nudge Eli in the rib cage. “Does he recognize you, or is he flirting with you?”
He shrugs. “Who even knows. I have no idea what constitutes flirting these days. Most people want to have sex, and that’s it, so how do people date anymore?”
I tilt my head and glance up at him. “Are you a romantic person? Do you actually like dating?”
“I think I do? Did?” He groans. “It’s been a long time. A few years since I was on a real, actual date.”