Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Supposedly they’re coming to town pretty soon for some pre-interviews,” I say as I plant more seeds, two inches apart this time, like Asher the Gardener told me to. “Sounds like everything’s on track from what my agent’s told me. And Everly.”
I steal a glance at the corner of the gardens where Everly’s now chatting with a lifestyle reporter and a couple influencers, I think. Maybe garden influencers? She’d said some were coming along with a few of the usual sports crew, but not the beat reporters. But I don’t linger on the press here. I linger on her, in her black slacks and gray blouse, a silky scarf around her neck, her blonde hair high in a ponytail, and damn, my heart thunders. My chest swells with pride, too, for how she’s pulled this event off.
She wanted a different type of community outreach than the rescue dogs one—something where we had a chance to help people living right here in this city.
I want the event to go well because I want everything to go well for Everly—every job, every chance, every opportunity. I return my focus to the soil and shoot the breeze with the guys as I pull weeds and plant peas.
A little later, I grab a bag that needs composting and walk across the gardens to drop it in a bin. Everly’s standing next to a raised silver planter, chatting with a man who looks familiar. He’s wearing jeans, but his shirt is clearly custom-made. Pretty sure that’s Wilder Blaine, the owner of the Renegades football team.
Is she networking with him? Oh, hell yeah. That’d be a smart move. When I’m closer, I pick up their conversation as he says to her in a cool, confident tone, “You did a great job with this event. Thank you for putting it all together.”
“It was my pleasure. I’m so glad both teams could do it,” she says.
He glances around once more, his gaze shrewd, assessing. “I’m a good businessman, so I’m not going to poach you, but I appreciate what you’re doing and how you’re handling your team.”
She beams. “Thank you,” she says. “It’s a good thing I love what I’m doing.”
“Keep up the good work. You’ll go far.”
That makes me think…what if, what if, what if?
When the event winds down, I grab a minute with her in the corner of the gardens as I’m gathering the little shovels we used. “Would you work for him?” I ask quietly.
“He’s not going to make an offer. He has a great relationship with the Sea Dogs team owner, so he meant it when he said he wouldn’t poach. But it was nice to hear he admires my work.”
“Who wouldn’t? You’re amazing.”
She offers a closed mouth smile before she says, “My, my. Isn’t your tune changing, Max Lambert?”
I scoff. “I’ve always thought you were good at your job.”
“You had a funny way of showing it before.”
And a good way of showing it now, I want to whisper, and I’m tempted to, especially since Elias isn’t here. But reporters are, and this is how rumors start. A whisper here or there. I know what it’s like to be the subject of them, and I can’t let that happen to Everly.
I have to find the will to tear myself away. “Good job with the event,” I say, perfectly businesslike, then I return to my friends without giving her a second glance. But I pull out my phone and tap out a text.
Max: I deserve a medal for resisting kissing you just then.
Everly: I want one for not flirting with you.
Max: And I’ll accept mine for not touching you.
Everly: I’ll take another for not getting in your car and leaving with you when this ends.
Max: Fuck, baby. I want that.
And I do want that. Badly. How to get it is the question though. When I’m heading to the gate of the garden to take off, a reporter calls out to me. It’s Jamie, a hockey podcaster. “You’ve been doing a lot of appearances lately,” he says, and he sounds incredibly skeptical.
Here we go again. But I smile, waiting for the question that’s coming any second—the one that tries to call my bluff.
“Is this a new Max? A Max who’s focused on charity, or is this just an image makeover? Now you see it, now you don’t?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Everly striding over. This is her turf, and she’s not going to let a reporter corner a player. Even though I know the answer to his question, I still wait till she arrives before I answer him. “This is the real me. I just haven’t shown it before.”
Jamie blinks. Maybe he wasn’t expecting that reply. He recovers quickly though, adding, “So will we see more of this you?”
If this me helps me win the woman, then yes.