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)
I hold up a hand, exonerating her from the barrage of questions I tuned out. “They barely even registered. I had a one-track mind in there.”
She smiles. “I noticed. That was incredibly impressive, how you shut them all down.”
“All that time not talking makes me kind of immune to their questions. I said what I wanted to say tonight. And I noticed you recording it. You’re going to put it on my The Real Max Lambert, right?”
“I’d like to. We do have to keep feeding that beast.”
“Then toss it into the maw.”
“Thank you.” With genuine excitement in her eyes, she adds, “I love the clip of you saying you’ve got a great group of teammates. You have their back and they have yours. I know it might seem too practiced and too much of a PR answer, but that’s okay. That’s exactly what I’ve been wanting. Just something from you to put you out there, for fans to start seeing you. And I definitely need content for that.”
“I’m glad it’ll work,” I say, pleased I could make her life easier for once.
Her gaze is etched with curiosity as she asks, “What made you do that tonight? Talk to them?”
I do want to tell her the real reason. She deserves to know. But I’m still a little hung up on something. A lot hung up. And the cocky jerk in me has the wheel right now. “So, are you going to tell me? Did you say yes to the underwear?”
She rolls her pretty eyes. “You’re still asking me that?”
I fucking love that she never lets me off easily. “I’m not going to stop asking. Tell me, Everly.”
“I thought last night was a one-and-done thing,” she says, but she inches closer to me.
“I’m not doing anything. Just asking,” I insist.
“Right. Sure.” She arches a playful brow.
“I just want to know,” I say, leaning in so we’re inches apart, letting her catch a hint of my cologne.
The moment it hits her is clear. It’s in the quiet gasp she tries to hide but fails to. A tiny murmur seems to escape those lush lips. Still, she tries to up the ante in our game, saying, “Guess.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. But because we are, I need to be careful. I dart away from her and close the distance to the door a few feet away, locking it then returning to her. My eyes roam up and down her body. “You have them on, don’t you?”
She tilts her head, her blonde ponytail swishing against her shoulder. “Since you did something big for me, I’ll answer you—yes. I do.”
A rumble works its way up my chest and past my lips. “And I just wanted to thank you for wearing them then,” I say.
She laughs. “That’s why you talked to the press? Me wearing the lingerie you sent me inspired you to talk to the media? I guess if I’d known all along it was that easy…”
“You wouldn’t have promised me a limo once upon a time?”
She shakes her head playfully. “Not now that I know your weakness.”
But I correct her. “Your eyes,” I say, looking into those deep brown pools. “Like I told you earlier. Your eyes are my weakness. Your eyes are my undoing.”
Her breath hitches, but she lifts a doubtful brow since she’s not won over easily. “Are my eyes your weakness or is it the royal blue panties?”
Jesus. She is my weakness. I can’t hide the truth anymore. “It’s not just the panties. Did I love it? Fuck yes. But that’s not why I talked tonight.”
“Why then?”
“Because of you. How hard you work,” I say, my tone one hundred percent serious. This is why I waited for her tonight. “I needed you to know that. The real reason I pulled you into the equipment room is to tell you what hit me tonight right outside the tunnel. When you told me the press made bets on me. You—you, Everly—have to put up with that shit all the time from them. And you have to put up with me. All of a sudden, I understood what you’ve been dealing with from their side—not just mine. But in the press box too. You’re tough and strong, and you have been putting up with so much. It only seemed fair that I do this for you.”
Her lips part in a slow, sweet smile. “Max,” she says softly, like she’s genuinely touched. “Thank you. That really means a lot to me.”
Ah, fuck. My heart lurches toward her. She cares so much. More than I expected. “You really want this to work, don’t you? This makeover?”
“I do,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “Maybe this sounds silly, but I made a promise when Marie…died,” she says, taking a breath, steeling herself perhaps as she sets a hand on the edge of the shelf full of helmets next to her, “to try to live my best life. To work hard, to do good, to appreciate everything I have—my friends, my job, my…body.” Something about that last word seems to knock her off-kilter. And it’s like she needs a moment. But she pushes on. “To reach for the moon. To be an example. And I want to be excellent at everything I do.”