Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
I move closer, staring Hudson dead in the eye. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
He lifts his hands. “Jeez, man, I was just kidding. What’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“What’s got my panties in a bunch? Are you fucking kidding? That’s Coach’s daughter, and she’s off-limits. How many times do I have to remind you of that?”
He narrows his eyes. “It’s more than that, though.” Then, as if he’s had an epiphany, his eyes widen, and a Joker-like grin spreads across his face. “Ah shit, you do like her?”
“What? No.” That didn’t even sound convincing to me.
“That protest sounded weak even for your grumpy ass,” he says.
“Fuck off, Wilde.”
I turn away from him and storm out of the locker room, barreling right into the one person I don’t want to.
My body collides into hers, and I reach my arms out on instinct to steady her.
“Watch—” Her words dry up, and I’m not sure why, but then I realize I have her wrapped protectively in my arms. Our chests touch, and my hands are on her back.
We are so close. I bet she can feel the way my heart beats against hers.
I drop her as if she’s a hot tool, and my hands are burned.
“Watch where you’re going,” she finally says as she rights herself.
“Sorry about that.”
“What’s got you so moody?”
You. “Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“Why don’t you speak to your father?” I challenge. One uncomfortable question for another.
“Wow. We aren’t talking about me.”
“Maybe we should be.”
“I see what you’re doing, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: I don’t give up easy. So . . . let’s try this again, what’s got you so moody?”
That’s what I’m afraid of. “If you must know.”
“I must. In my new job, I need to know everything about you.” She practically purrs the words, and I want to growl at her.
“It’s Hudson,” I blurt out.
“Sure it’s not me? Maybe you’re excited to see me.”
“I can promise you, Hellfire, it’s not you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you really need to call me that?”
“Do you really need to follow me around?” I deadpan.
“Yep.”
With a deep inhale, I go to turn around. “Find another job.”
She lifts her arms to her sides as she walks, one foot in front of the other like she’s walking a tightrope. “But then who will help me on the tightrope?”
“Jeez, enough of that shit.”
She shakes her head adamantly. “Now, why would I do that? Every time I do, I see it.”
“See what?”
She lifts her hand and points at my face. “The way your lip twitches.”
“I’m not following you.”
“You want to smile.” She grins back at me and continues to walk.
She keeps moving, and I can feel it happening despite not wanting it to.
She’s right.
I do, and I’m even more annoyed now; not only that she is right, but that she could read me so easily.
“Come on, we don’t have all day,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Where are we going?” I speed up my pace, catching up to her in only a few strides.
“You need to get fitted.”
I furrow my brow. “Fitted for what?”
She stops short, turns to look at me, and then her mouth drops open. “Did you even look at Molly’s spreadsheet? Or Dropbox?”
What’s she going on about? This girl needs to get her expectations in order if she thinks I’m going to spend my time trying to figure out how Molly color-coordinated my life. I shake my head at her. “Why would I do that? That’s your job.”
“And before me? Forget it. You don’t have to tell me; I know, I know. You didn’t look, hence how I got the job.”
Are we really having this conversation right now? In the middle of a damn hallway. Apparently so, by the way she glares at me.
“I had others before you,” I tell her because now I find the need to defend myself to my damn assistant. What is wrong with me?
“And let me guess . . . you never even gave them the sheet.”
My arms find their way across my chest. “Well—”
Hers land on her hips. “You didn’t, did you?”
“No.”
“How did you ever expect them to work out if they didn’t have her sheet?” She looks at me, narrowing her eyes. “Oh my God, you didn’t. Those poor, underpaid temps—you didn’t even give them a fighting chance.”
“I didn’t want them,” I respond.
“You don’t want me either.”
“That’s true.” I shrug, placing my hands in my pockets.
“Then why do you bother with me?”
Isn’t that the question of the month? Because you’re beautiful, funny, and make me smile. Fuck. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Of course you do.” Her eyes challenge me to respond. Dumb move. You won’t like what I’ll say.
“Nope. You’re the coach’s daughter. I’ll never have a choice.” Her face turns pale at my words, and the moment I see it, I regret my words right away. She backs up a step. “Jos . . .”