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)
He looks so good.
Hair combed back. He’s had it cut.
His face looks smooth, jawline square—I bet he smells like fresh shower and mountain man.
Heart achingly handsome.
I barely notice that I’m wringing my hands.
“It is with great pleasure,” the man seated to Duke’s left begins. “That the great state of Texas and the Dallas Steers are happy to announce we have acquired Duke Colter from the New York Condors.” He pauses as the crowd in the press room goes wild, speaking above each other, already throwing questions at the three men out of turn. “We are thrilled to have him as a part of this team, and we believe he’s going to be a key asset for us as starting wide receiver.”
Someone moves to speak into the man’s ear—Texas Steer General Manager Bart Adrian—and he nods before speaking again.
“Now we’re going to open the floor up to questions to Mr. Colter’s agent, Eli Cohen.”
The press begins firing off questions at the trio of men. The volume of noise—even through the TV monitors—and camera flashes, must be overwhelming in person.
When will his contract be made public?
“We really can’t say at this time.”
When will he begin training with the team?
“Effective immediately.”
What prompted the change?
Duke leans forward to speak into the microphone on the table. “Personal reasons. I am a Texan born and bred and have a legacy here I would like to continue. Texas is home.”
So formal.
So rehearsed.
They take one more question, then the general manager rises, thanking everyone for their time—before Duke and Eli stand and follow him out of the room, the broadcast returning to a studio of sports broadcasters who begin recapping the news ad nauseam.
“That’s it?” I say it out loud to absolutely no one. “That’s what all the fuss was about? That didn’t even last five minutes.”
Anti-climactic is what that was.
I stand in the kitchen, clicking the television off, not wanting to hear any more.
When I turn to leave the room, my eyes lock on the lone envelope on the counter—the one full of money he left for me.
“Why would he do this? Does he think I was expecting it?” He’d paid me upfront before moving in. It wasn’t necessary to give me a tip. Or a bonus. Or is this because of the sex?
If it was, I would hunt him down and give him a piece of my mind.
I do not want this money.
I want to throw the cash in his face or, better yet—burn it.
16
duke
Why did I leave without saying goodbye?
I feel like kind of an asshole dipping out like that, writing a quick note and taping it to the door, then putting whatever cash I had in an envelope.
You know—to help her out?
She didn’t have to tolerate my shit for an entire week and a half; I had to have been disruptive.
Why do you even fucking care, Colter? Posey was your roommate for the week and basically your landlady, at best. What do you give a shit about whether or not you were unbearable to live with? You paid her.
Then paid her again.
Fuck.
That envelope of cash.
When I mentioned it offhandedly to Eli, he slapped his palm to his forehead.
“What do you mean you gave her an envelope of cash? Why would you do that? You paid her already.”
I have no idea if it was a good idea to mention I’d also fucked her and felt guilty having to leave. So I do.
“You what?”
“I slept with her. But it didn’t mean anything, I swear.”
Which sounds worse somehow?
“Oh good. So you slept with her, without having her sign a nondisclosure, I’m assuming.” He’s being sarcastic, and I don’t appreciate it.
“Why would I have her sign a nondisclosure? She said she wasn’t going to say anything.”
Eli throws his hands up in the air, like he’s given up. “Oh! She promises she won’t say anything, he says.” He leans forward, setting his hands on the table and lacing his fingers. “Listen. I love Posey, I do—she’s great. I wouldn’t have orchestrated the arrangement if I didn’t trust her. But…if she caught any kind of feelings for you, she isn’t going to be able to keep it to herself. Best-case scenario, she only tells Molly.”
Feelings for me?
There’s no way.
She’s too sensible for that shit.
Too…
Practical.
“All she wanted from me was an orgasm or two. She didn’t catch feelings.”
“An orgasm or TWO?” His eyes bug out. “Did you sleep with her more than once?”
I shrugged. “I mean…no? Hand jobs don’t count, eh?”
His head hits the desk in the conference room in the Steers headquarters.
“Stop talking.” He holds a finger up. “Let me think.” He presses his fingers to his temples, lost in deep thought. “Okay. You’re not going to want to hear this, but it must be done.”
Dread pools in my stomach.
“I’ll have my secretary draft up a standard, simple NDA. You shoot it over to her, she signs it, done.”