Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Burgess had asked the question with the intention of learning more about what made this woman tick, but he hadn’t expected to relate so hard. “I get that. Feeling more comfortable in the cold. I have that, too.”
“Oh. Yeah. I can see that.” A dimple appeared in her cheek. “This might be the first and last time I’ve ever had something in common with an athlete.”
“It can’t be the only thing we have in common.”
“Should we find out?”
He gave a firm nod.
She hummed. “I like trying new things.”
“I don’t.”
“I like making new friends.”
“Hard pass.”
“I could dance for hours.”
“Pure torture.”
Her laugh echoed over the surface of the pond, in direct contradiction to Burgess’s wince. “Still not getting along with the rookies, I assume?”
“Actually,” he drew out, relieved to have a reason to interrupt the list of things that made them incompatible. “I let the rookies talk to me at practice recently.”
“You let them talk to you?”
“Correct. I asked them for their thoughts on our strategy against the team we’re playing opening night and . . .” He shrugged, gave his beard a scratch. “Their opinions weren’t as piss-poor as I was expecting.”
After a short pause, she tilted her head. “Did you so graciously allow them to converse with you . . . because of what I said?”
He made a gruff sound that served as affirmation. “I guess you could say I’m a good listener. Do we have that in common?”
“I suppose . . .”
“I’m good at working on teams. How about that?”
“Yes, that, too.”
“We’re getting somewhere. Now if you’d just do something about your terrible choice in smoothies, we’d have three things.”
Making Tallulah laugh was like taking a shower in sunshine. It just rained down in the form of warmth at the top of his head, coating him down to his toes. The sound and sight was already perfect, yet somehow she made the moment exponentially better by reaching out and giving him a shoulder shove. His hand moved involuntarily, catching her wrist, which she wasn’t expecting—and it did something to her balance. She faltered and tried to right herself, but ended up stepping on the embankment leading down to the pond.
Burgess saved her from taking a swim in the nick of time, hooking an arm around her waist and catching her up against his body, where she landed hard, her breath puffing out on a startled exhale. And he felt her everywhere. Everywhere. The bare thighs that pressed to his longer, denim-clad ones, her tits flattening against that region below his pecs.
Their mouths were close enough to trade breath, his coming faster by the second, because goddamn, she fit him like a glove. One single bat of her eyelashes and he’d ask her to wrap those thighs around his waist. Just to hold her like that, bear her weight, feel her from above.
It was his fault the spell was broken.
He made a hungry sound in his throat and crushed her closer—
But that telling noise seemed to snap her out of her apparent trance and she wiggled out of his hold, pushing a handful of fingers through her hair and letting out a gulping laugh. “Sorry.” She struggled through a breath and he curled his fingers into fists to keep from reaching for her again. “But, um . . . see? You’re better at small talk than you think.”
“Maybe I’m just good at it with you.”
Color spread up her neck in that way he pictured in his sleep. “You’ll never know unless you try it with other people, though, right?”
A chorus of alarm bells rang in the back of his head. “Is that so?”
She squared her shoulders, but he could tell from her expression that she was confused about something. Maybe by her reaction to him? Still, she said, “Yes.” Those bells clanging in the back of Burgess’s head grew even louder when Tallulah’s gaze flickered at the crowd of people just beyond his shoulder. “That’s why I thought it would be fun to bring you to a singles mixer.”
Fuck my life.
Chapter Fourteen
All right, so taking the man she was lusting after to a singles mixer could probably be categorized as self-sabotage, but there was no turning back now. She’d heard about the “young professionals meet-up” (code for find a gainfully employed hookup that doesn’t have roommates) from some of her classmates this morning. She’d sort of mentally laughed it off as nightmare fodder and gone back to taking lecture notes. Then Burgess texted and his name popping up on her phone made goose bumps spread down her arms, her pulse ticking in triple time . . . and she’d blindly tapped out the invitation, acting purely on her survival instinct.
Well, as they neared the group of young people dressed in varieties of business casual, she found herself panicking, trying to pinpoint which one would be Burgess’s type and gulping heavily over the imminent handoff to somebody else. Because no doubt about it, Burgess was going to be all their type. Heads were already turning, elbows digging into rib cages, lemonade being swigged so the paper cups could be discarded, thus freeing up two hands with which to wrestle her boss into their possession.