Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
He says a few other things, mostly about how he’s pissed at Muffin and how he’s tried to call her but she’s not answering, but all I can focus on is the casino bit.
My heart drops. “He’s been gambling?”
He studies me and frowns, giving me a rueful look. “No, and I’ve already said too much. I only did because I know you care about him and if anyone can talk to him, it’s you. You’ll have to ask him for the rest of the story.”
I chew on my bottom lip, my head trying to piece it all together. Ryker’s right—if I want to know the truth, I’ll have to confront Maverick.
He lets out a sigh as his eyes drift back to the plate in front of him. “Are you still going to let me eat this?” The fork is already in his hand and there’s a huge clump of crust and pecan filling on the tines.
“Eat the damn pie.”
“Thank God.” He shoves the huge bite in his mouth and groans so loudly, I blush. Once he gets the first bite down, he reaches across the table and gives my hand a squeeze. “Don’t give up on him. Just talk to him.”
Maverick
I’m leaning against the wall in the gym’s showers, letting the hot water run down my body. I’ve been pushing myself to the limit this week, preparing for the fight along with our first scrimmage game tomorrow. NFL scouts will be in attendance, and just thinking about everything I have on the line kicks up my adrenaline.
I think back to Muffin and what she might do with those text messages she took pictures of. Everything she has is just conjecture, but she’s batshit crazy, and batshit crazy can cause a lot of havoc.
I get out and am drying off when I hear the clank of a door somewhere in the building. Dammit. I thought Carson locked up before he left, but obviously he was leaving that to me since I’m here so late.
Still damp, I toss on my gym shorts then ease out the door and into the darkened gym. The lights are off and the only light is the glow from Carson’s office, which he leaves on all the time.
“Maverick?”
My shoulders sigh in relief—it’s Delaney.
My eyes scan over her, eating her up. She’s wearing a pair of gray yoga pants and a shirt that says I’m Sorry For What I Said When I Was Hungry. Her hair is up in a side knot thing, and strands of blonde hair that have escaped fall down her cheek.
I exhale. Damn, she’s beautiful, but she shouldn’t be here.
“What are you doing here? It’s past eleven.”
She looks around the deserted gym, her gaze ending on the boxing ring. She pushes her glasses up on her nose. “Muffin came to see me at the library last night, and I went to see Ryker today. He didn’t tell me everything, so I’m left piecing things together. I’m not sure what to think, and I’m here to find out what the hell is going on with you.”
“Okay.” I swallow as my entire body tenses. My chest feels like a chunk of ice.
“Who’s Leslie and what does he have to do with a casino?”
Fuck. My pulse kicks up, dread filling my gut as I realize the one person I didn’t want to know what I’m doing is about to find out what a liar I am. I suck in a sharp breath, gathering myself.
“Let me get dressed first,” I say before turning back around to head into the locker room, trying to keep it together. She follows me as I march away and dig through my gym bag, my eyes avoiding hers.
“Is that how you want to play this? By not saying anything?” I look up and her hands are on her hips, her breasts straining against the fabric of her shirt.
I slip a Waylon football shirt over my head and shove my feet into Adidas slip-ons. “I just didn’t want to involve you. The less I say, the better.” My voice is soft.
Her hands fall to her sides and she clenches them. “You’ve been lying to me for weeks. I thought we…had something real.” She swallows, her eyes searching my face for answers. “Don’t we?”
“I don’t know. This isn’t the time to ask me, Delaney.” It hurts to say the words, but I’m reacting on instinct. I need to push her away and just focus on the game tomorrow.
She stiffens. “Who are you?”
I scrub my face. “Look, my life…it’s crazy right now, and I don’t want you caught up in my shit.”
“With this Leslie person?” Her voice trembles, and I know her well enough to know she’s close to tears.
“Yes.”
“What? Is he like a mobster or something? Do you owe him money?”
I push my hair off my face, tugging on the ends. Fuck it—just tell her. “No, I’m fighting in Tunica for him. He owns a couple of casinos. Muffin thinks he’s my bookie, but he’s not.”