Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
The single life was the life for me. I loved women—and sex—but dealing with one every day? Having someone else decide how I was going to spend my time?
Hell no. Other than Loki, I’d never have a life partner.
Chapter Three
Sheridan
* * *
I hadn’t been nervous about going out on a date since I was a teenager, but tonight I was. Tonight I was fifteen again, going to the movies with the most popular boy in school, and wondering if he was going to think I was fat. I’d always been on the heavy side, but modeling had changed my outlook on that. Not that I didn’t struggle against a world that was still infatuated with the size zero, but my career had taken me places that very few people reached. Up until the accident, I’d stopped worrying about my weight, my sluggish metabolism, and all the things that made me who I was. Tonight, however, I was anxious about all of them, and it made no sense.
Yes, I’d put on weight since the accident. Yes, I had a date with one of the hottest professional athletes I’d ever laid eyes on. And yes, it had been far too long since I’d had sex. But I’d stopped caring what people thought of me a long time ago. I’d made enough money over the years that I didn’t ever have to work another day in my life if I didn’t want to, but that wasn’t the point.
I just wasn’t completely sure what the point was.
The point was that I was nervous as fuck.
The point was that I wanted to have fun tonight.
The point, and what it really boiled down to, was that I’d paid ten thousand dollars to go out on a date with this guy and I wasn’t sure why. This was probably a terrible idea. I’d almost called and cancelled half a dozen times.
My phone buzzed, indicating I had a text, and I glanced down, knowing this was it.
Lars: I’m here. Black Suburban.
Sheridan: I’ll be right down.
I’d told him I’d meet him downstairs because there was nowhere to park on my street, so I nervously wiped my hands on my thighs, grabbed my purse, and slid my feet into my shoes. I’d opted for tight black jeans, a leopard print top that made my waist look tiny and showed a little cleavage, and black flats. My hair was down, makeup subdued but on point, and I’d gotten pretty much every hair on my body below the neck waxed.
The elevator let me out on the ground floor and I saw him before he saw me. He was standing on the sidewalk, leaning against a black SUV, arms folded across his chest as if daring my doorman to tell him to move. I took a moment to take in his tall, muscular body and bright blue eyes. He really was a beautiful man.
One night, Sheridan, I reminded myself.
That was all this could be and I couldn’t lose sight of that.
“Going out, Ms. Lee?” Barney, the weeknight doorman, asked. “You look wonderful.”
“Yes. First date,” I told him, wrinkling my nose.
Technically, also the last date, but I didn’t tell Barney that. I wanted to pretend tonight could be the start of something new, even though I knew in my heart it couldn’t.
He glanced out the door. “Is that…?” He squinted, trying to get a better look.
“From the Mavericks,” I said, nodding.
“You tell him I said to take care of you!” he called after me.
I laughed. “I will. See you later.”
Lars looked up as I walked through the doors, immediately taking a step toward me, his eyes on mine.
“Sheridan. Hello.” He seemed as nervous as I felt, reaching out to give me an awkward one-arm hug. God, he wasn’t just hot, but he smelled nice too.
“Hi.” I smiled up at him. I was tall for a woman at five foot eleven, but he still had seven inches on me since I was wearing flats. “Thank you for picking me up.”
“Of course.” He opened the door of his SUV and held out a hand to help me climb in. The seats were soft leather, reminding me of my Mercedes Maybach, which I hadn’t driven in a year. I really missed driving. I got the green light from my doctors, but hadn’t had a reason to yet.
Lars got behind the wheel and I tried not to stare. He had a great profile, with high cheekbones leading to a pronounced chin, and a straight nose. The bit of scruff on his face only increased his sex appeal, and I turned to stare straight ahead before I started drooling.
“So you’ve never been to the Gateway Arch before?” I asked, opting to keep conversation simple. Earlier in the week, we’d decided we would check it out after dinner.
He shook his head. “No. I keep busy with hockey.”