Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I stood as I looked at him, my mouth open, no words coming out.
“Where is the little girl who wanted to save the world? Just think about it. You could make this into the best turnaround story out there.”
I glared at him and crossed my arms over my chest. I knew what he was doing. He was baiting me. I’d never turned down a challenge, another thing I got from my father. He got me to stick to my eight thirty bedtime till I was fifteen on a dare. A fucking dare.
“I want a contract,” I informed him. “And an out clause.” I pointed my finger at him. “If at any time I say ‘I’m out,’ then I’m out.”
He nodded at me.
“No objections to that.” He smiled at me. He knew full well he had won. “We can even include a signing bonus.” He leaned forward as he placed his hands on his knees and smiled.
I rolled my eyes at him, and as I was about to tell him to hush his mouth, the knock on the door stopped me. Alice walked in followed by Robert, the general manager of the team.
“Karrie.” He approached me as he put his hand out and shook mine. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Alice placed a brown deli bag down on the table, along with a couple cans of soda.
“I asked her to come over to discuss Grant. Robert, meet his new chaperone.” My father pointed to me.
“Are you serious?” Robert looked shocked, to say the very least. “I thought more of a man who is eighty and has wrinkles.” He placed his hands into his pockets.
My father shook his head. “No one’s better than Karrie. Set up the meeting for tomorrow and let's get this show on the road. I have to head down to California in two days. I want everything worked out by then. I want him on the ice on Saturday when we face Pittsburgh,” my father ordered.
It wasn’t an option at this point, so Robert just nodded.
So now here I am as I get ready for tomorrow. I’ve been staying at the W for the last two days while they paint the brownstone and turn his room into what they are calling a ‘man cave.’ As I’ve been told. I get up from the floor and make my way over to the shower, opening it on cold. I need to cool down. Jesus, if he was hot in pictures, it is nothing compared to what is in the flesh.
His body is definitely bigger, his chest wide, and when he took off his soaked shirt, I almost face-planted on the treadmill. His arms are muscled up and his skin smooth. The only thing he has on his body is a scripture writing on his ribs under his arm. Let’s not even start with the abs. His six-pack is so defined that if you poured water down his chest, you’d have six separate pools. I close my eyes, trying to make my heart settle down. “Get out of your head, Karrie. This is a job. You have to ignore the pang of your vagina and focus on the goal.”
I pick up my phone, texting my best friend Vivienne.
I MET HIM!!!
Three seconds later, I see the bubble appear on the bottom with the three dots in it. I know she is answering me.
Vivienne and I have been best friends since the last year of high school. She was an exchange student from Paris and we clicked right away. We bonded over trust funds, fashion, and all things Gossip Girl. The bubble disappears and instead a picture of her face lights up on my phone. I press the green button and collapse on the bed.
“Go for it, Ho Bag,” I greet her and hear her laugh in the background.
“Very funny.” She is almost whispering.
“Where are you?” I ask her while looking out my minuscule window. I’ve got a great view of the brick wall from the next building. Nothing says New York like your window facing a brick wall.
“I’m in court, so I can’t talk too loud. Where did you meet him?”
“Why are you in court?” I ask her, confused.
“I followed a guy I met in Starbucks here. I swear he winked at me.”
I’m the one who starts laughing immediately now. Vi has always been a hopeless romantic, thinking that love will happen at first sight. I’m always there to catch her when she falls, with wine and ice cream.
“You know he may be in court because he’s a criminal, right?” I turn on my side.
“I don’t think so. He’s wearing a suit. A nice suit,” she says, and I hear a case number being called in the back. “Oh, shit.” I hear her muttering while she says excuse me a couple of times. “Jesus, why why why do I do that to myself?”