Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Not in public,” I snarked.
Sky threw his head back and laughed. Fuck, that was a nice sound. Light and cheerful and easy. Which was funny because he didn’t really seem like any of those adjectives.
“Don’t mess it up, Fischer.”
I furrowed my brow and pointed toward the door. Sky grinned, raised his hands in surrender, and walked away. I turned to study the menu unseeing before sneaking a peek at him through the window. The sun cast a golden glow over his hair and skin, giving him a godlike aura. I stared at his broad shoulders and his slim waist for a long moment, then licked my lips and moved forward in line. Get a fucking grip. Sky is just a dude, and this is just lunch. No big deal.
By the time I met him outside with our drinks and the number for our order, I’d successfully talked myself off the ledge. I set his change next to his Diet Coke and slid into the metal chair across from him.
“That was embarrassing. Remind me never to order for you again,” I huffed.
“Oh, I didn’t realize we were making this a regular thing.” Sky waggled his brows, snapped the top off his drink, and took a sip.
“We aren’t. I’m not sure what we’re doing.”
“You’re interviewing me, remember?”
“Right. By the way, the guacamole was from yesterday. It’s a little brown, but if you swipe off the top layer, you’ll never notice,” I said as I tore the wrapper from my straw and popped it in my drink. “And they don’t do salads, so I ordered you mashed potatoes…with gravy. You’re welcome.”
Sky snort laughed. “Thankfully, I know that’s not true, but it’s good to know the hockey player has a sense of humor.”
“How’d you know I play hockey?”
“Lucky guess.” He chuckled when I stared at him suspiciously. “Okay, fine. I saw you pulling ice skates and a hockey stick out of your trunk in the parking lot.”
“Oh.”
“You look like a hockey player.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.
Sky smiled then angled his head toward the restaurant. “Did you remember to hold the picante?”
“I remember everything,” I replied unthinking.
He pursed his lips thoughtfully and somehow I knew he was thinking of that day in the classroom…the fight, the fall, him over me, and his cock nudging mine. I sucked on my straw and fixated on the posse of teenagers staring at their phones at the table next to ours.
“Is that an actual condition, or are you trying to impress me with weird bragging rights?” Sky shifted in his chair and bumped my leg.
I ignored the zing of awareness as I lowered my sunglasses. “I don’t care about impressing you. I don’t know you. And you’re the one who’s supposed to be impressing me.”
“Are you always this big of an asshole?” he asked in a syrupy tone.
“Depends on who you ask. My mom thinks I’m sweet,” I said. “What’s the deal with you anyway? Tell me about yourself, and don’t fuckin’ lie. If you say one thing that isn’t true, I’ll report to Harry and make sure he doesn’t hire you.”
Sky held my gaze for a moment. “Dial back the dick routine. I didn’t stage a takeover. I applied for a job. And I got it.”
“Doesn’t mean you get to keep it.”
I leaned aside when a server delivered our lunch, then made a production of unwrapping my burrito while Sky asked about the red stickers covering the foil on his.
“I’m new here, but I guess it means extra spicy,” the young man said with a bored shrug before moving on to the next table.
Sky glowered at me. “You sabotaged my order.”
“My bad. I thought you liked it hot,” I replied around a mouthful of food.
“I don’t. Let’s trade.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that. Spicy food makes me gassy. If I took one bite of that, you’d be super grateful we didn’t drive together,” I singsonged, impressed I was able to keep a straight face.
Sky rolled his eyes as he gingerly picked up his burrito. “Nothing gives away your age quite like a fart joke. How old are you?”
“Twenty-two. I’m a senior. You must be too, or you wouldn’t be in that econ class.”
“Unless I was a prodigy,” he singsonged.
“Are you?”
“Nope. I’m a fifth-year senior at Chilton. I’m twenty-three.”
I furrowed my brow. “The fancy private school in Orange? What are you doing at Long Beach State, then?”
“Playing catch-up. I dropped out at the beginning of winter semester last year, and I was too far behind to make up the work. My counselor suggested summer school, so here I am.”
“Why here? Don’t they offer econ classes during the summer at Chilton?”
“Yeah, but I can’t afford them. I told you…my student loans don’t kick in till late August. Thus the job,” Sky said before taking a big bite of his burrito. “Mmm. This isn’t bad.”