Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
The guy practically throws one at me, and I scribble my name across the napkin before handing it back.
“Thanks, man,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. Then his gaze shifts to Austin, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Wait—is this her?”
“Her who?” Austin joins the conversation, glancing around to discover who the her is though we all know what he’s referring to. He’s clearly seen the news.
“You know,” the guy says, snapping his fingers and loudly whispering, “The girl from last night’s game. Holy balls, dude—the story is true. I thought it was a load of crap.”
“Because they usually are loads of crap,” I tell him, keeping my tone casual. Flippant. “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet.”
He blinks, taken off guard by my rebuttal.
“Right. Totally. But, uh…” His gaze darts to Austin again, and the curiosity is practically radiating off him. “So, are you two—”
“Nope,” I cut him off before he can finish that sentence. “She’s actually my cousin. My very dorky cousin who loves pineapple pizza and thinks the moon landing was fake.”
Austin’s head snaps toward me so fast, I’m surprised she doesn’t pull something. Her jaw drops, her eyes wide with disbelief.
The guy’s face drops into a mask of confusion.
“Wait… seriously?”
“Absolutely,” I say with a completely straight face, leaning back in the booth. “Loves frat parties at the college.”
Austin narrows her eyes at me, clearly unimpressed. Then she turns to the guy with an exaggeratedly sweet smile. “Actually, it’s the opposite. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m in the process of becoming a nun. I’ve been considering a vow of chastity lately. A lot lately. Real recent.”
The guy blinks, his brain clearly short-circuiting as he processes her words, the same way my brain did learning she’s a prof.
“A nun?”
“Yup,” she says, making the sign of the cross on her chest. “Just me, my prayer beads, and a whole lot of spiritual reflection.”
I bite back a laugh, folding my arms across my chest as I watch her babble with a straight face.
“Looks great in black and white, by the way,” I add, unable to resist. “Super sexy.”
Austin’s head snaps toward me, and the glare she shoots me is so sharp, I almost flinch.
Almost.
“Thank you for your input, cousin,” she says through gritted teeth, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Oh shit.
That’s right.
I just told him we’re cousins and three seconds later I called her sexy.
Whoops.
The guy stares at us for a moment longer before shaking his head.
“Man, you guys are wild.” He takes a step back, looking like he’s ready to escape. “Anyway, good luck with, uh, the nun thing.”
“Bless you my child,” Austin says sweetly, her expression pure innocence—but as soon as he’s out of earshot, she turns back to me, her eyes blazing. “Super sexy? Really? You’re terrible at ad-libbing.”
I shrug, grinning unapologetically. “I panicked.”
“No shit you panicked.” She crosses her arms and glares at me like I’ve committed some kind of cardinal sin. “What if that guy goes to the press and tells him you’re dating your cousin?”
I laugh, gesturing for the server. Order two beers when she takes our order—and a pineapple pizza.
8
austin
Ican’t stop thinking about Gio Montagalo and it’s affecting my work.
Alone in my office, I stare at the wall and do my best not to Google him—but it’s hard. It’s like trying not to scratch an itch. He’s everywhere, and yet the moment I close my eyes, he’s still there, taking up space in my brain like he’s paying rent.
Since our meeting this weekend—if you can even call it a meeting—he’s been the only thing I can think about, and it’s beginning to show.
Case in point: the half-written grant proposal sitting on my laptop screen. Deadline tomorrow.
Words? Completely gone.
Focus? Nonexistent.
Not good.
This is ridiculous!
I’ve had crushes before; fleeting distractions that barely register in the grand scheme of things. But Gio? He’s a category all his own. It’s not just because he is a famous athlete. Or because he’s good-looking—though, let’s be honest, the man could model for a cologne ad and no one would bat an eye.
Nope. It’s his presence.
The way he’s so damn sure of himself, yet somehow manages to make me laugh even when I’m trying to be mad at him because we’re in a media frenzy I never asked to be part of.
I glance at my phone sitting on the desk, face down like it’s a temptation I can’t afford to indulge. He hasn’t texted me since we met Friday at Five Alarm, which should be a relief.
It means he’s probably moved on, forgotten about me entirely. Right?
Right.
So why does that thought make me feel like shit?
Because. You have the hots for him. You think he’s funny, charming, and he’s a great conversationalist. He’s not boring. Plus, he’s tall.
So.
Tall.
My office door creaks open, and I nearly jump out of my chair.
“Professor Adams?” A student who works in this department peeks her head through the crack. “You have a meeting scheduled with the department chair in five minutes. I thought you might need a reminder since you’re normally early to those?”