Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved and walked off, no doubt heading back to her lab. Thank God I hadn’t lost that last hand at this month’s game or she wouldn’t have spoken to me for a month.
Daisy made her way toward me with Fiona, and I couldn’t help but think about what my sister had just said. Harper was right, as she usually was.
I had a type. A mold. A vision of what I thought my soulmate would be.
So why the fuck was I so incredibly attracted to Daisy when she wasn’t any of the things I knew I wanted? She wasn’t type A or organized. The woman was so far from an A she may as well have been a Z. I was pretty sure she survived solely on KitKats and coffee, too. I’d gotten in the habit of making her eat dinner with me just so I was sure she had rounded meals during the day. The woman would forget to eat. She’d get lost in whatever she was working on and I’d have to tap her shoulder and remind her that it was lunch time. She was a full-on wildcard in every way. She was…
The fuck?
“Are you wearing McKittrick’s jersey?” I asked as she reached me. Yep, his fucking number was on the shoulder. It shouldn’t have bothered me. I should have been happy that she’d purchased a piece of merchandise that clearly benefited my team. But I so wasn’t.
“Yep!” Daisy beamed at me, a giant cup of coffee in her hand. Her hair was up off her neck today, tied in a knot on top of her head, but those elusive tendrils still dangled, framing her beautiful face. “He’s my favorite.”
My gaze narrowed, and I felt the sharp bite of jealousy. “Is he?”
“Well, I mean, it’s not like you have one that I can buy, now do you?” She grinned, rocking back on her heels. Vans, she was wearing Vans today. “Does the owner even get a jersey?”
My jaw ticked. I had a jersey. It said Silas.
“I’m just impressed that you’ve got her out of her usual yoga pants and hoodies,” Fiona said with a smile.
“Usually I’m in a dress for the office,” Daisy said, oblivious to my irrational internal hissy fit as she turned her back on me to talk to Fiona, boldly displaying McKittrick’s name.
On. Her. Back.
I can transfer him before the season even fucking starts. See if she’d wear his name on her back then.
“Heels, too!” Daisy continued. “I’d almost forgotten how much fun it is to get dressed up in the morning. Not that I don’t miss rolling out of bed and tugging on some lululemon and a comfy sweatshirt.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “And I definitely miss my sleep.”
“You wanted to shadow,” I said with a shrug. “And I never said you had to dress up for the office.” Not that I was complaining. The best part of my day was when she arrived at my house and I got to see whatever delicious ensemble she’d picked out.
She spun back on me. “You dress up for the office every single day. And I haven’t even seen you wear the same suit twice.”
“It’s my office. I dress appropriately for whatever is going on that day. That doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.” I would have given her one of my companies for the chance to see her in yoga pants, stretched tight over the grabbable curve of her ass.
“I’m not about to sit through your business meetings in a hoodie!” She gawked at me.
“Speaking of meetings, I have one in five minutes.” I glanced at my watch.
“How do you do that?” Daisy asked, staring at me like I was a science experiment. “I swear, Fiona, he doesn’t even look at his phone or a schedule. He looks at his calendar once in the morning and remembers it the rest of the day.”
“Twenty days with me and that’s the most impressive thing I’ve done? Damn. You sure know how to make a guy work for an attaboy. Nice to see you, Fiona.” I turned and headed for the elevators, and once I’d reached them, I held the button, counting to sixty before Daisy skidded in next to me.
I hit the button for my office floor.
“Sorry, I had to say bye to Skye. She’s just the cutest!” She bounced on her toes and took another sip of her bucket of coffee. “I can’t believe it’s finally Reaper day!”
“Reaper day?” I glanced over at her.
“The day you promised me that you’d go over the sports part of your business with me.” Her forehead crinkled. “Remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” I said as we rose. “I just didn’t realize you were calling it Reaper day.”
“Duh! Hence the jersey.” She motioned across the logo on her chest with the coffee. “I just never realized what a little percentage the Reapers are of your business until the last few weeks.”