Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Lot of work when we could ignore it instead.”
“What’s your favorite thing to do?”
“Play baseball.”
I know his biting tone isn’t my fault, and even if he’s trying to make me feel bad, I refuse to let him. “No, that was your job.”
“I like my job.”
“You like it more than playing D&D? You like it more than gummy bears? You like it more than the perfect cup of coffee and more than a fresh-baked peanut butter blossom and more than watching a rookie take your advice on how to handle the media and more than a big, juicy steak that’s cooked to perfection and more than sex?”
When I say sex, his eyes connect with mine like I’ve finally hit on something, and oh my god, does my vagina notice.
I shiver.
My vagina throbs.
He visibly swallows.
My nipples get tight and a wave of heat washes over my entire chest.
“Get your coat,” he finally says gruffly. “You’re getting a damn tree.”
I don’t point out that it’s past ten o’clock at night and all the tree farms are closed.
Or that I’m wearing onesie snowman pajamas without a bra.
Instead, I shove my laptop aside and leap to my feet. “If you insist.”
TREVOR
I have lost my mind.
All I meant to do was apologize for being a dick, and now, I’m trapped in a car with Meg, who brought gummy bears, while I cruise all over Copper Valley looking for a Christmas tree farm that’s open until midnight.
“We’re in a damn city,” I mutter as we pass one more closed lot. “How are they going to sell the crappy trees to drunk people leaving the bars if they’re not open?”
Meg shakes the bag of gummy bears in my direction.
I grab a handful and toss them all back.
No idea how she knew I loved them, or why she had a bulk-size bag hidden in her room, but I’m slowly finding my happy place and feeling more like myself. My old self.
The self who liked his life and himself and knew he made a difference on his team and for his teammates, and who believed he’d find his place again when his baseball career was over.
The self I liked to be.
I can feel him in there.
Even with all the annoying Christmas lights all over the city.
“I really don’t need a tree,” she says.
The fuck she doesn’t.
I might dislike Christmas for my own reasons, but she loves it and she’s miserable because her family abandoned her this year. Not like I can ever avoid Christmas, and it honestly hurts me more to think of giving someone else a grumpy Christmas than it does to just deal. So she brings in a damn tree. Won’t change my life that much.
It’ll make her happy.
And unfortunately, I know exactly where there are likely to be Christmas trees this time of night.
Wordlessly, I point my car back toward the heart of Copper Valley and the fanciest hotels.
“If we have to do this, I could settle for a Christmas coat rack instead of a tree. Or a lamp post. Oh! I know! I want a Christmas stoplight. Steal me a Christmas stoplight, Trevor.”
“Those things are heavy.”
“Because you’re old, I shall not make any comments about your physical abilities.”
I growl.
She laughs. “Too easy.”
“And now I see why Jude didn’t want you living with him.”
“Oooh, snap. Nice one. Even though I couldn’t nanny for the quadzeuslets from Australia and you know it.” She snags the bag of gummy bears before I can reach in for another handful and props them on her opposite knee, out of my reach. “What else do you have? C’mon. Zing me.”
Nothing.
I have nothing, because I don’t like being that asshole.
Usually, I avoid people when I feel my asshole showing.
“Aww, you can do it, Mr. Terrible Taste in Bathroom Wallpaper. Surely, you have some kind of insult you can fling at me.”
“I don’t have wallpaper in my bathrooms.”
“Exactly.”
She sounds extremely pleased with herself.
“At least I have more than one color in my wardrobe,” I say.
She laughs. “Okay, Mr. Shades of Gray.”
“I am not all—fuck.”
She’s right.
I have every shade of gray between white and black.
Even my Fireballs shirts are white, gray, or black with the logo stitched on as the only burst of color.
And she’s not in her usual red tonight. And even when she wears a red shirt, she’ll pair it with black or white pants, or she’ll accentuate with gold or silver, and why do I know so much about her wardrobe when I feel like I’ve barely seen her since she moved in a few weeks ago?
Because you’re only pretending you don’t see her, and we’re getting fucking tired of it, my dick answers for me.
“Shut up and give me more gummy bears,” I order. I’m talking to Meg, but I might as well be talking to my dick too.
Meg’s still laughing as she holds the bag where I can reach it. “I don’t understand your fascination with gummy bears when M&Ms are clearly the superior candy.”