Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
I’ve been secretly in love with Wilhelmina Reddi-Grinst since the third grade.
I should be the one taking her to our small-town high school reunion. The prom king finally gets his chance with the valedictorian.
Except she hates me.
To the world, I’m a pro hockey player with a million dollar smile.
To Hemi, I’m the menace who (accidentally) sank her bike to the bottom of the lake.
I never thought I’d be able to right my wrongs until she took the team’s PR job.
I’d hoped I was making progress, winning her over—one geriatric polka party at a time.
Until I got drunk one night and made a mistake. A very big mistake.
Now the world thinks we’re both very much in love–—except Hemi is absolutely in loathe.
To save our jobs and reputations, we have to convince all our friends, family, and bosses that our fake relationship is the real deal.
I’ll do anything to protect her, especially if it means I get to be the best boyfriend Hemi never expected.
*If you want to meet Dallas and Hemi before you read their story, you can start with If You Hate Me, and If You Want Me.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
DALLAS
“Calm the fuck down,” I tell my reflection as I grip the edge of the sink.
Of all the inconvenient times to spring an anxiety boner, this sure tops the list.
“Open the damn door, Dallas.” Willy rattles the knob.
“Ah, fuck me.” I grit my teeth against the surge of desire.
It’s pointless, though. I’m already picturing her pissed-off expression: rosy cheeks, fists on her curvy hips, full lips pushed out in an adorable, annoyed pout. My erection turns into a steel rod.
Wilhelmina Reddi-Grinst, referred to by the team as Hemi—but who I call Willy, mostly to ensure her attention is on me—is the public relations director for the Toronto Terror, the professional hockey team I play for.
She’s also the woman of my dreams—has been for years. Unfortunately, she hates me. She has good reason. We’ve known each other since kindergarten, and I was a dick of the highest order growing up.
Even more unfortunate is the way my body responds to her every single time. Especially when she’s giving me shit. People always bend over backwards to please me. But not Willy. Never Willy.
“I’ll be right out,” I call, panic layering on top of anxiety. This should not be happening. I took care of myself before I left the damn house. Twice. But here I am, battling yet another raging anxiety boner. In the bathroom of a pet rescue shelter. It’s embarrassing.
And it’s a new low. But handling my situation in here is better than having pictures of me holding a rescue dog while sporting a hard-on all over the internet.
Horrible decision made, I uncurl one hand from the edge of the sink, hating myself as I reach into my underwear to fist my cock. I accidentally groan at the instant relief.
“I heard that sound, Dallas. I heard it.” Willy raps aggressively. “You better open this door by the time I reach three or I will sign you up for clown and sauerkraut pierogi detail.”
I hate clowns. Probably because my older brothers, Manning and Ferris, made me watch IT when I was four. And sauerkraut reminds me of my great-grandma Helga’s house, where my siblings and I sometimes had to stay as kids when my parents went away on vacation. I came down with the stomach flu after eating her borscht, and now the smell of cooked cabbage in any form triggers my gag reflex.
“I just need a minute!” I call back, stroking fast and hard. I slam my eyes shut, trying not to picture Willy naked and angry. It’s difficult with her on the other side of the door.
“You’ve had ten. Your minutes are up.” More knocking. “Three,” Hemi’s voice shakes with rage.
The fallout from this will be bad. So, so bad. She’ll for sure make me pay for this. And the worst part is, I’ll eat it up. Because it will mean her focus is exactly where I want it. On me. I know it’s messed up to enjoy pissing her off. It’s a problem, and I should seek therapy for it. But her anger is preferable to apathy.
The angrier she gets, the harder I get. It should be the opposite. I should not love getting under her skin the way I do. But at least I know I affect her, too.
“Two. Clown detail it is.”
I can’t do clown detail again. Public panic attacks aren’t good for my image.
“I’m sending the email with your name, right now.” The glee in her voice sends a shiver down my spine. God, I love her.
I’m so fucked when it comes to Wilhelmina.
And then I do something stupider than whacking off in a public bathroom.
CHAPTER 2
HEMI
The door swings open, and Dallas’s arm shoots out. He grabs my wrist and yanks me into the bathroom. My boobs hit the door on the way in. He slams it closed behind him and turns the lock.
“Why am I in here with you?” I grimace at his sweaty, disheveled appearance. He’s hunched at the waist, one hand on his knee. “Are you sick? Do you have the flu? You better not have the flu. You should have told me before you wasted everyone’s time.”
“I don’t have the flu.” He’s panting. And still bent over. I don’t know what’s happening with his other hand, maybe cupping his junk?
“Then why do you look like…like this?” I fling a hand in his handsomely rumpled direction. Fucking Dallas. Such an annoyingly pretty boy, and a giant pain in my ass.
“I need a minute,” he snaps.
I scoff and fist my hands at my sides so I don’t give in to the urge to strangle him. He does this almost every time, and I firmly believe it’s to annoy me. He was the most popular guy in our high school, always the center of attention. He should be used to it by now.
But getting angrier will only make me look unprofessional, not him. It’s frustrating that nothing has changed since we were kids. I’m still the outspoken nerdy girl, and he’s still the prom king. I take a deep breath and put on my nice-Hemi hat, because I need him to leave this bathroom and do the promo shoot with the adorable Chihuahua mix so I can go to yet another coffee date with a random online dude whose picture is hopefully not ten years out of date.