Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
A half hour and another round of beers later, I made my way toward the bathroom with a grin. Monica was cool, and I was pretty sure I was gonna get laid tonight, which would be the perfect cherry on top of our killer win against the Rush. Those fuckers had been so sure they had the game in the bag with the new addition of Houston McRae’s brother as their wide receiver.
But the little rookie had apparently forgotten basic ball-handling skills and had practically placed the pigskin in my hands, sealing our win.
Even better, I’d had a front-row seat of Malik Tucker’s usual cocky smirk replaced with a baleful frown as he realized the game was effectively over. The guy had only become cockier over the years, even if it wasn’t unwarranted, considering how damn hard he played, but still. He got on my nerves and under my skin. So yeah, I was on cloud nine.
Fuck him, and fuck the Rush.
I pushed thoughts of him away and exited the bathroom, already anticipating the rest of the night with Monica as I walked down the hall and back into the main bar before stopping in my tracks.
Someone was sitting in the seat I’d recently vacated. Someone with light brown skin, dark, close-cropped hair, and broad shoulders.
I choked back a territorial growl as I approached and pasted on a tight smile instead. I thumbed over my shoulder. “I think you’re in the wrong seat. Loser section is over there.” Tucker brought out the juvenile in me, apparently. While I wasn’t ever going to be mistaken for a social butterfly, Tucker seemed to know people everywhere and even had a couple of friends who played for the Royals. So while his presence wasn’t exactly surprising, it was annoying as fuck.
Tucker glanced around, his smile never faltering. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a bus or private plane? Or maybe there’s a pier you could go jump off of?”
Monica laughed. “Am I sensing a little NFL rivalry here?”
Tucker slugged my shoulder. “Nah, we go way back, don’t we, Whitt?” He leaned closer to Monica and cupped a hand over his mouth like he was letting her in on a secret. “We used to go to football camp together as kids. Dude couldn’t even catch a ball. I had to teach him how fingers work.” He wiggled his demonstratively.
“I had to teach him how to sprint,” I fired back. “Those giant clown feet of his had him constantly on his ass until I showed him how to put one in front of the other.” Tucker had been a kinda goofy fucker during our camp days, but his times had improved dramatically. Not that I’d ever let him know I’d been paying attention. “He’s still workshopping all that. S’why I outrun him on the regular. You break 4.48 yet, buddy?” I feigned concern, and Tucker’s grin faltered briefly as Monica cackled.
“I don’t need to, Pat. How many pass blocks did I have just tonight?”
“And what was the final score?”
He shrugged. “We’ll be back up next game.”
“Maybe your new rookie isn’t all he was cracked up to be.”
Tucker waved a hand. “He is. Just wait.”
Just when I was about to tell him to fuck off, Tucker slid off the seat he’d stolen from me and gestured toward it. “All yours.”
“Thanks. Have a good night.” The tension in my shoulders relaxed by degrees.
Until he skirted around me and sat down on the other side of Monica and beamed at me. “I will. It’s just getting started.”
I was hoping Monica would tell him to get lost, but instead, she seemed amused by the two of us. “I wanna hear more about these two left feet of Tucker’s and fumbly fingers of yours.” She waggled her brows coyly.
“They don’t fumble anymore, I promise you that.” Behind Monica’s back, I flipped Tucker off deftly as he choke-laughed. “We did go to football camp together, but this dude doesn’t know shit about me.”
“Sure about that?” The intensity of Tucker’s gaze caught me off guard, and I knew he spotted it before I could smooth out my expression. I’d never forgotten about him overhearing the tense conversation with my dad, and as stupid as it probably was, and despite how far I thought I’d come with all that, it still filled me with embarrassment. I’d been raised in a family where appearances were everything, where being caught in a vulnerable moment meant the other person had leverage and could take advantage of you. It was even shittier when you felt compelled to guard yourself with your own family. I’d been successfully wearing a mask for over a decade, and only one person, to my knowledge, had ever spotted the cracks in it. I hated how exposed that made me feel.
I steeled my jaw, aware Tucker was trying to get under my skin. The best thing I could do was not let him, so I turned the conversation to Monica. Tucker could sit here all night. He wasn’t gonna get in the way of me closing this deal. “We just run balls down a field. I wanna hear about how you got into the whole personal training gig in the first place.”