Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Slow the fuck down, mate. I pause, take a breath, square my shoulders. One more go.
Hunter: It’s not been a year but I’m still single, and if you are too, as luck would have it, I’ll be in San Francisco tonight. Any chance you’re free at all tomorrow? I’ve got the whole day in front of me.
There. I don’t think twice. Since, well, I’ve already thought four times. I hit send and leave it to fate.
As I wait for my flight at the gate, I don’t check incessantly for a reply. His Thursday night game starts in thirty minutes after all, and he surely won’t be on his phone.
Instead, I do some quick research on the players we’ll be covering, then catch up on work emails, touching base with the team heading up the sports streaming, including an exec I’ve been dying to work with—Ilene Brancuso. She’ll be meeting me at the stadium tonight, and she’s a goddess in this biz.
And I must behave like the model of an up-and-coming producer.
Especially since my father’s reputation precedes me.
But this new assignment is the perfect chance to show I earned the gig on my own merits.
After I answer the emails and settle into my seat at the back of the plane, I click over to my texts once more.
But there’s no answer.
What, did you think he’d be checking to see if you texted during a commercial break, you twit?
I bounce over to a book on my e-reader on styles of storytelling, but I can’t focus on the pros and cons of different structures. I’m thinking of Nate and the possibilities of tomorrow.
Would he want to spend the whole day in bed?
Well, I’d be game for that kind of schedule, though nervous too. But I’m an expert on covering nerves, worries, and other assorted fears with a happy face. Plus, of course, I’ll be fucking nervous until I finally, finally experience everything on my long list of Very Specific Sex Fantasies.
I re-read my last message to the guy, reviewing it in my head for tone and charm. I’ll give myself an A-minus—I sounded enthused but cool.
Oh, fuck.
What if Nate’s wondering why I never reached out to him about his pending trip to London? I knew he was traveling to England, since I’d be a daft idiot not to know about the game in London between the San Francisco Hawks and the New York Leopards. But I didn’t get in touch since I was supposed to be in New York for other work.
Fucking hell. Don’t want him to think I was avoiding him.
Well, he won’t think that once he gets your message in oh, say, an hour, genius.
Right, right.
Best to just settle down and wait for a reply.
Though admittedly, when I land in San Francisco I’m hoping he leapt on his phone at halftime and sent me a yes, get your sexy ass over at once and I will fuck you senseless for hours.
But no such luck.
After I ask the driver to drop my bags at my hotel, I head straight for the San Francisco Hawks stadium. Once I find my way to the media suite, I give Sarah a quick hug. “Can you believe we’re working together on this too?” I ask.
“We were meant to be,” she says, like it’s a marvel.
I focus in on the pink-haired woman munching on a carrot—Ilene Brancuso. We’ve been on Zoom and conference calls a few times, but this is my first chance to meet her in person. Ilene is a legend, bursting with energy and ideas. I wait until she’s finished the carrot and then introduce myself, “I’m Hunter, and I’m thrilled to be working with you.”
“Oh, please.” The exec has a breezy, speed-of-light way of talking as we shake. “I’m the one excited to work with you. So unbelievably excited. You’re the new guy.”
What’s the deal with her emphasis on you? Is she excited because of my dad? It’s not like I have a long track record. I only landed this gig earlier this year, so there’s not much to know of me. Plenty to know of him, though.
But she flips her attention back to the game, rattling off stats on the team. I follow the change in subject. Best to just impress her with my work acumen than to marinate too long on what she meant.
“The Hawks new cornerback has such a great story,” I say. “He’d be fun to do an interstitial on.”
“Oh my god, yes, yes, yes. That is so true,” she says. “Let’s put that on our list, stat.”
There. That’s a good start.
When the game ends, Ilene guides us through the facility to meet the PR team and some of the players we’ll be working with in London over the next week.
My pulse kicks up.
Any second. I’ll see Nate any stinking second now. It is a good thing I look sexy. As my little sister says—don’t leave the house unless you’re ready to run into a hot firefighter who has to rip off all your clothes to save you.