Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
My goddamn father, however, had taken the option to wait until I was ready out of my hands. At the beginning of the week, I’d received multiple calls from a publishing house under his conglomerate’s ownership badgering me about my book and sending literary agents my way. I’d eventually had to block all their numbers on my phone. I knew these people weren’t jumping to publish my book. They were being pressured by my father to get this done.
I knew my father’s game.
He wanted to control this. He always tried.
I always outplayed him.
It didn’t stop him from fucking with me.
The only way I knew how to stop it was to get ahead of him. He’d forced my hand. I’d wanted to talk to Hallie about it, but she’d been quiet ever since she’d gone to see her mother. We hadn’t really spoken all week. I was worried about her too.
After speaking to Aunt Richelle about the manuscript situation, she’d suggested she contact her friend. The rest was history.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
I reached for my phone and opened my texts. Last night I’d asked Hallie if she wanted to meet for drinks tonight, but she said she had plans and suggested we do something on Sunday instead. I wondered if she was working tonight at an event.
I wanted to ask her what happened with her mom and to get her opinion about the book. And, of course, finally tell her the truth. A week without a real connection to her felt too long, and I was feeling clingy, having initiated all of our recent contact.
Maybe if I had more friends here in the city, I wouldn’t be so distracted by Hallie. My closest buddies, however, were on active duty or working at Johnson Space Center in Houston. We talked now and then, but I couldn’t exactly call one of them up and ask them to meet me for a beer.
Maybe moving back to New York was a mistake.
As soon as I thought it, Hallie’s pink hair and big blue eyes filled my mind.
It didn’t feel like a mistake.
Dammit.
Shutting my laptop, I pushed up off the couch, thinking maybe I’d just go for an evening run instead. The thought had barely crossed my mind when my cell rang on the table, and I rushed to it, hoping to see Hallie’s name on the screen.
I stalled at the sight of Darcy’s name flashing on it.
Disappointed, I picked up and shoved the feeling out of my voice. “Darce, hey.”
“Chris, hello, how are you?”
“I’m well. You?”
“I’m good. I know it’s last minute, but I hoped you might be free to meet for a drink tonight. To catch up.”
The thought of sitting around my apartment made me feel restless, and it might be nice to talk with Darcy. Have an actual friend in the city other than Hallie. “Sure. Just text me where and when.”
“Wonderful!” She really sounded like she meant it, and I couldn’t help but smile. “See you soon.”
Hallie
My smile was strained as I met Derek’s eyes across the small, intimate table.
This felt nothing like how it felt to knock knees under the table with Chris at that tapas place. The bar was Derek’s idea because it served food, so we had snacks and cocktails in front of us.
Derek gave me a pinched smile as our eyes met again.
Oh God, I was being a terrible date.
I just couldn’t stop thinking about Chris and feeling guilty, like I was cheating. Which was ridiculous because he hadn’t ever expressed any romantic interest in me.
Think of something to say to the incredibly handsome man in front of you.
“So . . . Althea tells me that as well as teaching high school history during the winter months, you’re a baseball manager for one of the minors during the season?”
He nodded, sitting forward in his chair. “Yeah. I’ve been doing that for a few years now. I was assistant coach first, worked my way up.”
“That’s great. So do you get to travel?”
“We do, but not far. Our team doesn’t have the budget for anything but a bus ride. We’re not the majors.” Derek had a dazzling smile that should have given me a stomach flip or butterflies or something. But it wasn’t Chris’s slightly crooked grin, so it didn’t seem to do anything for me.
“You a baseball fan?” Derek asked, his spectacular hazel eyes glittering warmly under the intimate lighting of the bar. Those eyes looked almost green against his dark skin and were enough to make any woman swoon dramatically at his feet.
There was something seriously wrong with me.
Was I a baseball fan? “Um . . . I played when I was a kid. So I went through a phase of liking it.”
“I’ll take that as a no, then. It’s okay, you don’t have to like baseball.”
“I’m sorry,” I suddenly blurted out. “I feel like I’m making this so hard on you.”