Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Glancing over at Peter who was talking animatedly to his readers, I reminded myself that this right here was one of the reasons I loved my job. The power of social media never ceased to amaze me—how it could elevate businesses to places they never imagined, including my own.
I just … sometimes … it felt I was all work and no play.
For some stupid reason, Callan Keen’s face flashed across my mind.
Probably because he seemed to know how to play, play, play.
But I didn’t want to play the game like he did.
I didn’t want a revolving door of men coming through my apartment.
I wanted what Joss and Braden Carmichael had.
Maybe then, life would stop feeling like one long, constant working day.
CHAPTER SIX
CALLAN
We beat Dingwall Drovers 2–1. Not exactly the annihilation the gaffer was after, but we were still finding chemistry with the new players who’d joined the team for this season. Some of our players had been loaned out to other teams too. Good news was I scored one goal with a free kick and John scored the other. Dingwall had been coming for us, but Baird did a phenomenal job stopping their attempts to score.
The gaffer was not happy. One too many attempts got through our defense.
Between worrying about a game that should’ve been won more easily and the fact that Braden Carmichael was still refusing to meet with me and Baird, I’d wanted some stress relief last night.
We had training the next day, so I’d only had one drink with the boys, but I’d also taken a woman home. Jules. Baird had warned me she’d slept with our substitute goalie, Michael Holmes, and that she’d stolen his phone to tell his girlfriend he’d cheated. I’d shrugged off the warning because Karma and all that. I might not ever be nominated for Boyfriend of the Year, but disloyalty wasn’t in my vocabulary. I knew only too well how much it fucking hurt to have the people who were meant to care about you disappoint you.
Anyway, the sex with Jules had been fine. After Hailey told Beth fucking Carmichael of all people that I was a shit lay, I’d put in a wee bit extra effort. Just because a woman wanted to say she’d shagged a footballer didn’t mean I should get complacent and lazy.
But Baird had been right about this one. Jules had screeched her head off when I told her she needed to get out of my bed so I could get to training.
“What is it with you bloody footballers and early mornings!” she’d shrieked like a banshee. I’d winced and kept my mouth shut. Engaging someone who was already blowing something way out of proportion was never a good idea.
As I waited on her to get ready, listening to her stomp her heels into my good hardwood floors, I kicked myself for giving Jules the effort when Hailey had been a nice lassie and she got the knackered, bored, entitled version of me I wasn’t proud of.
I decided right there and then I needed a break from this.
Surely, my right hand was better than listening to this stranger swear and yell all because she needed to get out of my flat at seven in the morning.
Finally, as I was about to urge Jules to hurry up, she strode out of the bedroom looking impressively put together. She was a stunner. Pity her insides didn’t match the outside. She sneered. “Ready. Happy?”
I shook my head in disbelief and walked toward the front door, and the envelopes on my sideboard caught my attention. A pang of guilt made me hesitate. I should pick them up. Take them to her.
Instead, I kept walking right out of the flat.
On Wednesday, I’d collected my mail and was shuffling through it as I walked upstairs when I realized the postie had put Beth’s mail in with mine. Some devil possessed me and instead of shoving it through her letter box, I’d kept it. I didn’t know why. Not a fucking clue. And it had sat there all weekend. Every time I passed it, I told myself to pick it up and stop by her place with it on my way out.
Even now, I didn’t do it.
“Where am I dropping you off?” I asked.
“Work will do,” Jules replied sullenly. “Vibe. The tanning salon off George Street.”
“Right.”
As we were making our way down the stairs that led to Beth’s floor, my ears pricked up at the sound of a door opening. My blood started pumping and something like anticipation filled me as she came into sight.
Today she wore her gym clothes. I tried not to stare too hard in case I missed the next step down.
Racking my brain, I catalogued all the local gyms, wondering which one she frequented.
“Morning!” she called chirpily. Beth wasn’t an unhappy person but ‘chirpy’ was out of character. It was a deliberate attempt to piss me off.