Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Trinsky gasped in faux surprise. “You googled me!”
I rolled my eyes, the way I always seemed to do around him. “Dream on. You’ve told that story to every group of teenagers in Elmwood since you started coaching summer camp.”
“Ah, well, it’s a good story. I used to bring Eddie with me to the rink when he was younger, but his balance wasn’t great and he’d get frustrated. He’s better now, but he’s more of an ocean guy. I told him we’d go surfing tomorrow. That’s always fun.” His lips quirked at the corners. “You should come.”
“Surfing? I haven’t been on a board in years.”
“Body surfing. Eddie doesn’t like boards.” He stopped behind a Jeep and grumbled. “Traffic sucks. I hope you didn’t have to be anywhere soon.”
“Nah, I don’t have any plans.”
Trinsky did a double take. “Are you hungry?”
“Uh…yeah, I could eat.”
“Cool, we’ll go to my house.”
I sat taller in my seat. “Your house?”
“Yeah, I have to jump on the freeway, but it’s not that far. And Bianca stocked my fridge yesterday. We’re talking…stocked. I need help doing justice to her enchiladas. Might as well be you.”
“Bianca.” I wrinkled my nose in confusion. “Is she your girlfriend?”
He snorted derisively. “Bianca is my housekeeper who also happens to be an amazing cook.”
“Weren’t you dating a model?”
Trinsky did one of those obnoxious side winks. “You totally googled me.”
“No, I didn’t. Did you—did you tell anyone?”
“About us? Oh, yeah. For sure. I broke up with my ex a few months ago, but I called her last week and told her I banged a dude and liked it. Now she wants a threesome. I got my agent to get me on this TV thing with you, so I could offer you a ride and ask how kinky you get. It was all going according to plan, but I guess the ruse is up. Phew. Weight off my chest, man.” He pounded said chest like a caveman and veered onto the freeway entrance.
“You’re very fucking funny,” I deadpanned.
Trinsky lost it.
He hooted, slapping his palm on the steering wheel. “You’re the best target. So easily offended. Lighten up, buttercup. I don’t have a girlfriend and no, I didn’t tell anyone I touched your dick. Sadly, that means no threesomes for us…if that’s where your kink lays.”
“Lies, not lays.”
“Shut up, Milligan,” he retorted almost affectionately. “You know I’m playing with you.”
“You’re a freaking child.”
Trinsky grinned. “And you’re a freaking stick-in-the-mud. How do you feel about enchiladas?”
“I love them.”
“Good. You’re forgiven. Now, hang tight. Let me show you what this baby can do.”
And with that, he revved the engine, zipping around slow-moving traffic at a hundred miles per hour, singing his lungs out to a Pearl Jam classic.
I was annoyed.
Totally…absolutely…annoyed.
And a little charmed.
At least now I could blame my racing pulse on the Porsche and if my smile felt too big for my face, well…I liked fast cars and Pearl Jam too.
Trinsky’s Hermosa Beach house was—well, it was…
“This is…nice.”
I bit my lower lip as I surveyed the opulent surroundings of the tri-level mafia villa meets California coastal chic abode. The floors were a mix of travertine and hardwood, the kitchen counters were dark granite, and not one, but two crystal chandeliers hung above an enormous island. The barstools were white leather, and there was a zebra-print rug under the glass table in the breakfast nook.
The best word to describe his place would be ostentatious.
“Don’t sugarcoat it. This house would have been Tony Soprano’s dream beach house, and you fuckin’ know it. Tacky as shit, but I’m only here a couple of months out of the year, so who cares?” He tossed his keys to the granite island. “Want something to drink? You name it, I’ve got it—beer, soda, water, wine.”
“Water is fine. Thanks.”
I passed through a stone archway and wandered to the wall of windows in the adjoining living room. The house was definitely not my taste, but no one could fault the view. His great room was on the second floor, offering privacy from boardwalk traffic as well as an incredible panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean. The soft earthy sand and turquoise waters softened the harsh interiors and in a funny way, balanced them out.
“Here you go.” Trinsky handed over a water bottle and motioned to the patio. “I’m gonna nuke some enchiladas and change into shorts. Pull up a chair outside. I’ll meet you in a few.”
Ten minutes later, he set a platter of warm enchiladas, rice, beans, and tortilla chips on the table, looking infinitely more comfortable in workout shorts and a snug-fitted Denver Condors tee. I hated that I noticed his pecs and the flex of his biceps as he flopped onto the chair across from me and slipped a pair of Wayfarers on. And I really hated that my first thought was, Damn, he’s hot.