Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
She’s been seeing him since the night at the movies, and everything is the best. “Gah. Yes. He’s so sweet,” she says, then tells me about the game of mini golf they played last night. And mini golf isn’t even a euphemism.
“I haven’t heard you like this about a guy in, well, ever,” I say.
“He’s funny and smart, and he’s kind of smitten too.”
Cara deserves a good guy. Her college boyfriend was a leading candidate for Toxic Love. He smothered her, constantly calling and texting, showing up unannounced—in short, stalking her.
“So Patrick’s attentive, but not too much?” I ask carefully.
“Just the right amount. I swear,” she says. “He gives me space when I need it, and he’s around when I want him to be.”
“Good. I’m glad. I worry about you,” I say as I pull open the door to the front office.
She snorts. “Understatement of the year.”
I bristle. “I’m allowed to worry about my baby sister.”
“And I appreciate it, but I swear everything is good. Now…what about you and Drew? I haven’t said anything to Patrick about you two…” But the way she trails off makes it sound like she wants to.
“Good,” I say, then take a deep breath. “But maybe soon it won’t have to be secret.”
Wow, that felt strange to say, and a little uncomfortable, but only because I’m getting used to the idea of not hiding.
I hope.
“Really? Are you guys going to do this for real?”
“We’ve talked about it,” I say softly, floating the idea out loud since I’ll have to float it to Stephen any second now.
“What are you going to do?”
I’m flying blind here, but I’ve given it a lot of thought in the last twenty-four hours. “I want to talk to my boss. Try to understand what’s possible. I know how to ask things without implicating myself or Drew.”
“I’m rooting for you,” she says, her enthusiasm loud and clear.
I thank her, then say goodbye and head inside. Once I reach my office, I settle in with the employee handbook, digging into any guidelines on employee-player relationships. There’s not much in here—the only guideline is that dating a co-worker should be disclosed to human resources.
I’ll start with my boss.
I take a deep, fueling breath, push back in my chair, and stand up so I can find Stephen.
Only, there’s no need to track him down. The tall, shrewd man is knocking on my open door. My stomach dips. I’m hardly ready. Do I say, Hey, what would you think if I dated the quarterback? Or maybe, Stephen, I have a funny story to tell you involving a paddle board oar, a margarita, and me.
“Come in,” I say instead.
He closes the door behind him and chooses the chair across from my desk. “About last night…”
I sit up straighter, nerves tightening. “The Every Kid event?”
Did he overhear our sweet nothings at Whac-A-Mole? Cold fear seeps into my bones. Just because I was about to march into his office for a heart-to-heart doesn’t mean he’ll rubber stamp my plan.
My messy, unformed plan.
What the hell is my plan, anyway?
All my clarity slinks out the door. I need this job. I have loans to pay off. Drew needs to have a good season. The team is rehabbing its image.
What am I doing?
“You and Adams,” Stephen adds.
A weight lodges in my chest. Keeping a blank face, I wait for him to say more.
Stephen clears his throat. “Did I pick up on a vibe?”
“What vibe do you mean?” I ask evenly.
He spins his phone around, slides his thumb across the screen.
My body is a high-tension line as he shows me a photo from last night on a sports gossip site. The shot is of Drew and me talking by the Whac-A-Mole.
Flirting, really.
But the caption reads: Mercenaries QB playing a boardwalk game with the team’s attorney.
Like the site thinks we’re cute?
Stephen’s gray eyes flicker with Machiavellian delight. “Fun pic, right?” He swipes the screen again and displays another. “Just like this one the reporter found.”
He shows me a picture I’ve seen before—the one taken at the first event at the hotel, in front of the Young Athletes banner for the charity. Here they are last month at the Young Athletes event. Hmmm ☺
“And that gave you a vibe?” I ask, stripping emotion from my voice until I’m sure what he’s after.
“A vibe and an idea,” he says. “Especially when I came across this shot.” He hands me the phone once more. I gulp. The picture of the four of us leaving Fake Play is new to me. Looks like it was taken from a distance. Was a photographer stalking Drew that night?
The caption reads QB and friends seeing fake romance movie.
“Where’s that from?” I ask, wildly curious.
Stephen shrugs. “Just some fan. Someone was eating at Ruby’s Taco Truck, then posted this shot of you guys too,” he says, like those details don’t interest him.