Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
My vibe is chill and relaxed—not full throttle and “say whatever dumb shit comes to my mind.”
Like he does.
The man has no filter and has insulted me several times already, feet propped up on my desk as if he owns the place.
I take a deep breath in.
Let it out.
Remember: the man is paying your rent for the next three months, and he’s only staying for two weeks, I remind myself as my eyes home in on the toe of his cowboy boots. Deep breath in, Posey. Deep breath out. It’s two weeks.
“I didn’t see supper downstairs,” he says at long last, that Southern twang unfamiliar. “My stomach is growlin’.”
Growlin’?
Don’t you dare crack a smile, Posey Kettner. Get a grip. He can’t help himself. The accent is natural.
I raise a brow and level him with a blank stare. “OH? Am I supposed to feed you?”
He tilts his head as if to say, yes, you were supposed to feed me—but I can see him actually thinking about the next words out of his mouth.
“My agent sent a dietary list?”
Yes, I’m aware.
The list came in a large manila envelope in the mail, one I promptly tossed in the trash.
“He did.”
I’m not this man’s personal assistant. It is not my job to grocery shop, cook for him, clean up after him, or make sure he doesn’t starve.
When Duke raises his brows, I lean back against the desk chair and cross my arms, much like I fancy a headmaster at a private boarding school would.
“I assumed you only needed a place to sleep at night. I didn’t realize you thought you were also getting a personal assistant.” I count to ten for patience. “I hear Delivery Dash is extremely efficient. You should try it. The first few deliveries are usually free.”
“Are you jokin’ with me right now?”
My mouth wants to smile, but I won’t allow it to. “No, I’m not joking with you.”
We assess one another, he and I, my heart still beating out of my chest—adrenaline still rushing from the fright, and the sight of his large form taking up most of the air in my office.
Molly’s former office.
Molly was my roommate and is currently the girlfriend of Duke’s agent, Eli Cohen, who needed me to do him a favor and play host to one of his new megastar clients. Duke Colter is one of the most famous football players in the world and about to become the highest paid.
He also made the controversial decision to switch teams after his second year—and after his first Super Bowl win.
I’m not sure what would make a man do that, but I’m sure he has his reasons.
I know nothing about sports. The only thing I love about them is the food; charcuterie boards, taco dip, chips, and salsa trays… Gimme all the stadium food, and I’ll show up, but not to watch the game.
Duke’s boot moves as he crosses and recrosses his legs, and I’m reminded of my conversation with Molly…
“Well. So Eli has this client, and he’s a pretty big deal.”
I nodded my head slowly. “Aren’t they all a big deal?”
“Yes, but this guy is different.” Molly hesitated. “I can’t tell you his name yet, but swear what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room.”
I held my palm up in an oath—the same one I’d use if I was on jury duty or a Girl Scout. “I solemnly swear.”
“Everyone wanted to sign him, and Eli got him,” she emphasized, sounding super dramatic.
“Molly, that’s great!”
“I know, I know. He’s coming off a Super Bowl win, but they’re going to announce he’s leaving that team for another—and when it does, he’ll be ambushed by paparazzi and the press. His fans are going to be pissed.”
“All right?”
“The thing is, he lives in Texas but wants to be near Eli before the announcement is made—and he told Eli he won’t stay in a hotel. They’re not his thing, and he’d be too easy to find.”
I’d still been confused at that point. “Uh-huh.”
“Anddd…no one knows this little house exists or Eli’s connection to it.”
“You want to rent this house to him instead of me?” I’d been dismayed at the thought. They were kicking me out of my house so they could move in a football player?
“No! Posey, I wanted to ask if you’d be okay with him crashing here for a bit. We need to hide him,” she reassured me. “That’s what I’m here to ask. If you’ll harbor one of Eli’s athletes.”
Harbor one of his clients? What did that even mean?
“He plays what sport again?”
“Didn’t I literally just tell you he’s coming off a Super Bowl win?” She sighed because my brains were addled, the information a bit too much for me to process. All I wanted to do was bake cakes and make crafts for my adorable little students. “Football. And he’s just been given the most lucrative deal in history. When people find out, they’re going to lose their shit.”