Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“You? With those abs? I’d say we can get a good $500 out of ya. Maybe even a grand if some of the wealthier women come.”
I narrow my eyes. “Who is my competition?”
“Competition? For what?”
“I’m not going up there and not having the top bid. This is for my ego as much as it is for your charity.”
She cackles. “Well, we got Shawn Daze.”
“The surf instructor?”
She nods.
Shit. He’s pretty good-looking. “Who else?”
“Miguel from La Pachanga.”
Dammit. He practically has a fan club. “Who else?”
“Let’s see …” She sighs. “I forgot the list at home. There are about fifteen of you.”
“I’m going to have to go home and do some push-ups or something. Just to be sure.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Can you film it? We could use that as a promo?”
I laugh. “I’m gonna take you the best pictures you’ve ever seen. Because I’m going to have them foaming at the mouth for me, Glo.”
She bursts out laughing, patting tears from beneath her eyes.
My phone dings again.
Jess: I just want you all to know that I ran five miles today and I still got it. So whenever any of you are ready to race, let’s go.
Maddox: Name the time and place.
Me: Don’t leave me out of this. I’m the most talented out of us all.
Moss: Sighs.
“My brothers have lost their marbles,” I say. “Hang on.”
“I’m hanging.”
Me: You want to time us, Moss?
Jess: He could cheat.
Moss: Excuse me?
Maddox: Ouch.
Paige:
Moss: I’m on lunch.
Me: Me too.
Jess: Me too.
Maddox: I’m waiting for a client to arrive.
Paige: Must be nice.
I look up. “What is the most clear-cut way to time someone running? Where no one could cheat?”
“Well …” She narrows her eyes, thinking. “You could go out on the highway toward Sunset Shores. They have one of those signs that clock cars. I bet it would clock you if you ran real fast, wouldn’t it?”
I gasp. “You’re a genius.”
Me: Tomorrow night. 8pm. Sign on the highway on the way to Sunset Shores.
Moss: Huh?
Me: We race. The sign will clock us. No one can cheat.
Jess: I like it.
Maddox: I’m in.
Moss: All right. Let’s do it.
Me: You’re going down, fuckers.
Paige: Someone video this. I beg you.
Me: Of course, I’m videoing it. I’m not letting my victory be forgotten.
Jess:
“So what are you going to do about your roommate?” Gloria asks.
I look up to see that our plates have been delivered. When did that happen?
I set my phone down as a knot forms in my stomach again. “What do you mean?”
“It’s gonna come to a head between the two of you. What’s your plan?”
Shrugging, I pick up a fry. “I don’t know. I almost gave in last night but was an adult for the first time in my life. And you know what, Gloria? I hated it. I’ve regretted adulting all day.”
She laughs. “You’ll be fine. You’re a smart, kind man. Just tell her that if she scoops you up—as she should—I’m not giving up my weekly lunch dates. I had you first.”
“No one is taking me away from you, babe.”
She winks. “That’s right.”
We eat our lunches. Gloria chats with a lady next to her that’s holding a baby. I gaze out the window and wonder what awaits me at home.
That’s hours from now. I have a lot to do before then.
But Gloria’s right. I need a plan because this thing with Sara isn’t going to go away.
So how am I going to handle it? Handle her?
Hmm …
15
Banks
“I got this. I just need to stay cool and stick to my guns,” I say, staring at my house. “You’re a big boy, Banks. You’re in control.”
Holding my breath, I wait for the words to sink in. For me to believe them. Eventually, my lungs start to hurt.
“Oh, fuck it. I’m not in control,” I say, swinging my door open and exiting the truck.
“She’s scared of falling for you. She thinks if she can make it just about sex that it will put boundaries up and keep her safe.”
I take the step to the porch. My heartbeat quickens as I open the door.
I’m never particularly excited to come home from work. I’m generally not torn up about how to handle a woman, either. It’s a day of new experiences.
I step inside the house and immediately stop.
The pillows are on the couch. The box of car parts on the floor by the television is gone. A stack of magazines that weren’t necessarily stacked but more leaning and toppling on the floor are now in three neat little rows on the coffee table.
What the hell?
Have I been robbed? Reverse robbed? Did they come in, take some stuff, and then tidy up as a form of appreciation for having nice things they can hijack?
I pull my gaze to the hallway as a blur of red comes at me.