Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Kangaroos are cool,” Kade shouts, then bounces a few times, hands curled, marsupial-style, above his imaginary pouch.
Sophie sticks out her hand toward Everly even though they’re obviously besties already. “I’m Sophie Lambert-Morales, Max’s sister, and this is my son, Kade.”
“So nice to meet you. Everly Rosewood. I do PR for the team.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about you,” she says, and her voice is dripping with sisterly amusement.
I snap my gaze to Sophie. What the hell is she talking about? I haven’t said a word about Everly to anyone besides the guys.
“It must have been a couple years ago. When you were a reporter,” Sophie continues, talking to Everly.
But no way did I say anything about this unchecked lust. I was with Lyra then, and I didn’t start having these irritating thoughts about Everly till she started working for the team and needling me after every goddamn game—thoughts that escalated ever since I saw the lacy lingerie in her luggage. “I don’t think I said anything about her,” I say to my sister.
“Yes, you did,” Sophie says, too pleased. “You said she was smart and tough and easy to talk to.”
Everly’s mouth parts, and she’s now enjoying this too much. “Max Lambert. That’s another nice thing you did.”
I narrow my eyes, muttering, “I did not do something nice.”
Kade grabs my hand. “You’re a nice honey badger, Uncle Max.”
“I’m not,” I grunt.
“You kind of are,” Sophie says. “Except you were kind of a j-e-r-k too when you got on Everly about Kade and me.”
Get on Everly.
I’d like to get Everly on her back, spread her legs, and fuck her into next year.
And fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ve got to stop thinking about her in this way. My dickhead mind is spending all its time in the triple-X cinema when it comes to her, but I’ve got to do a better job at keeping it in the PG theater, watching innocent cartoons, not filthy reels that have no place in this situation. Everly’s a work colleague, whose expertise I unfortunately desperately need.
“All right, now that you’ve had your fun at my expense, the answer is no,” I say to my work colleague.
“You don’t even know the question,” Everly points out. She has no problem going toe to toe with me on anything.
“I do,” I say, firing right back at her. “You want to take a pic of me with my sister and nephew. You said you were working on publicity plans.”
It’s an accusation, a cold one, but she ought to know my family’s off-limits.
She squares her shoulders, holding her ground. “Well, yes. Of course. I would love that. But I know better than to make that request. I do understand that’s not happening,” she says, and I blink, briefly taken aback. She does? Okay, that’s good. “But that’s not what I was coming here for. I wanted to see if we could get together soon to discuss our battle plan. That’s what I was working on while eating the world’s most sinful chocolate cake. And I have some ideas mapped out already.”
I was wrong. I was too quick to assume. I should probably admit that, but instead, I say, “Sure. How about Friday?” I’ve got plans with Kade tomorrow, but it’ll be good to get this meeting on the calendar right away. Good to move quickly. The sooner we tackle this, the sooner it’ll be over. I’ll fix my problems, make the team happy, do the documentary, and move the hell on.
Which’ll have the added benefit of me spending less time with the object of this inappropriate lust. Goals.
“Do you want to meet here in my office or one of the media rooms?” Everly asks.
I glance around the corridor, weighing if I want to meet here in the thick of it or go someplace with a different vibe. Not sure the convo is going to be my favorite so I’d rather the whole organization not be wandering the halls as we have it, but before I can say a word, Sophie chimes in helpfully, “Or you could do coffee or lunch or even dinner. There’s a great new coffee shop in the Marina District called Republic of Coffee, and a cute new café in Russian Hill called Morning Glow. There’s also sushi in Japantown. Which is great for dinner. I love Japantown. Don’t you?”
Everly reins in a smile. “All of that sounds great. Max?”
“Sushi’s good,” I say, then Everly tells me she’ll text me later with details. Finally, she continues down the corridor, and I side-eye my sister as we leave and head through the lot. “Coffee? A café? Sushi?”
She smirks, “Well, I was right. You picked dinner.”
Shit. She’s an evil genius. She tricked me, but I try to shrug it off. “It’s a work dinner,” I insist as we weave past a Mercedes.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she says with the smugness only a younger sister can pull off.