Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Tom Billing’s an ass,” I grumbled. “Ever since I accidentally spilled coffee on him during that interview a million years ago, he refuses to throw the ball to me. Ever. Remember that pro bowl game where he literally threw it at the coach instead of me? Prima donna.”
Mikey shot me a look. “You deliberately removed the coffee cup lid and tipped the drink onto his shoes.”
I opened my mouth to disagree, but he continued before I could get a word out.
“While saying, ‘Maybe if someone lit your feet on fire, you would actually leave the pocket for once.’”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Was I wrong?”
His face softened into a laugh. “Not really. But you probably ruined a thousand-dollar pair of shoes.”
“As if he’s paid for a pair of Nikes in his entire life,” I scoffed. “Please.”
“He called me the other day. Did I tell you?”
I stared at him. “Tom Billing called you?”
Mikey looked offended. “He likes my muffins.”
I imagined the handsy quarterback setting his sights on Mikey. The man was straight as far as I knew, but Mikey was sexy enough to tempt anyone who had even a teaspoon of bi-curious in him.
I picked at my fingernail and sniffed. “I’m sure he does.”
Mikey’s grin was adorable. He had this little tiny half dimple next to the left side of his lips. I’d always kind of wanted to kiss it. Just a little bit.
“The protein ones with sneaky veggies,” he continued, as if I hadn’t said anything. “He wanted the recipe after his housekeeper tried recreating it with no luck.”
“You’re not giving it to him, I hope.” I took a sip of my lemonade and watched him over the rim of my cup.
“I will if he lets me call them the Tom Billing Power-Up Muffins in the cookbook.”
Before I had a chance to ask him if we could stop talking about Tom Billing, Sam came in.
“Rico’s on his way. You have any wine?”
Mikey nodded and waggled the bottle he’d already pulled out. Then he turned and pulled one of the bottles of ice water out of the fridge he always had ready for me.
“Here, switch to this for dinner. You’re behind on your water intake.”
Sam met my eyes behind Mikey’s back and mimicked his lecture. Mikey didn’t even turn around before calling him on it. “Cut it out, asshole. Do you have any idea how much I get paid to tell this princess when to drink his water?”
“Too much,” Sam said. “I drink plenty of water without having to pay a single person.”
I shot him the bird and tried not to show how hurt I was at the reminder Mikey was here because he worked for me.
He was my employee. That’s all this was.
4
Mikey
So maybe going away had been my idea, not Coach’s. But when I’d casually mentioned sending Tiller to Colorado in front of my dad, he’d blown out a giant exhale of relief. “Yes, please. Get him the fuck off my bench and send him home,” Coach had said. “Moose’ll set him straight.”
I didn’t mention I was going too and we weren’t actually staying with Tiller’s parents. If he found out Tiller and I were going to a secluded mountain cabin alone, he would assume we were sleeping together and blow a gasket. So I let him believe Tiller was going to Jill and Moose’s place for the holiday and I was visiting a friend from college in Steamboat Springs, Colorado.
I felt like a sneaky teenager which made me feel like an ass whose father had way too strong of an influence over him. Even though I was pushing thirty, my father remained the single most influential person in my life. How pathetic was that?
When we got to the check-in counter at the airport, I split off to go to the regular people’s line while Tiller headed for the first-class one. It took him a second to realize I was no longer behind him, but when he did, he hissed at me loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Get over here, you moron.”
I dutifully followed, knowing from years of experience how this was going to play out.
“I can’t fucking believe you did this again,” he snapped under his breath.
“You cuss like my dad,” I muttered. “And you know how I feel about spending your money.”
When it was our turn at the counter, Mr. NFL Superstar turned on his charm and laid down his celebrity card. “Hi…” He squinted at the woman’s name tag. “Nessa. How are you this morning?”
She blushed right on cue and fluttered her fake eyelashes. “I’m doing great, thanks! How can I help you today, Mr. Raine?”
He put his hand on top of my head and turned me to face Nessa. “My assistant here made a mistake when he booked our reservations, and I need to upgrade him to first class to sit with me, please. We have some work to do, and I don’t want to waste our time in the air.”