Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Asshole.
Now that I think about it, I should probably invite Marissa and Prescott to the wedding. My original plan wasn’t this elaborate. I was just going to take her to the courthouse and get married, but my wheels started turning and I realized that whoever is responsible for all of this would be livid if they saw her marry a person they also tried to get rid of. My mother thinks Lyla loves Fairview. Liam thought the same until I stupidly let it slip that the reason I hired more security is that Lyla doesn’t feel safe there. It’s none of their business. This is between me and Lyla, and anyone who wants to stand in the way is considered a threat. I grab my food from the delivery guy and keep my eyes on that dad as I eat. For the rest of the game, I try to figure out how I can get his phone.
CHAPTER 32
LACHLAN
When the game is about to end, I walk back toward the field. This time, I don’t bother camouflaging. This isn’t a Clark Kent situation. I could probably be in a body bag, and Lyla would know who I was, but I want to make sure that she knows that I know that she knows I’m here. I can barely remember the man I was before Lyla barged into my life, but I know I never cared enough about anyone to reduce myself to pettiness. Look at me now. Mr. I Would Never Chase Anyone, and I’m standing on a soccer field in this hot ass weather, in a city I’ve never been to, chasing someone who is currently acting like I don’t exist. Ain’t that some shit.
I take off my ball cap and set it facing back, as she jogs to the other side of the field to help a little boy with his laces. My heart tugs again. The reaction pisses me off. By the end of this, I’m going to need a serious psychological evaluation. From my peripheral vision, I see someone walking over, so I look in that direction. One of the hot moms that had been flirting with Shit-head is headed my way. She smiles and stands all up in my personal space. I immediately want her to leave me alone. What is up with people in this city? I bet dating apps have a higher success rate, here, than anywhere else in the country.
“Do you play?” she asks.
I look at her. “No.”
“Oh.” Her blue eyes roam up and down my body. “But you play something. You look like an athlete.”
“Hockey.”
“Oohhh, a contact sport,” she says with a wink.
She gives me a smile that I’m sure makes a lot of people jump to seal the deal; I don’t return it. I may be angry as fuck, but I don’t need this right now. The last thing I need is for Lyla to think that I’m even remotely interested in anyone else. I’m not, fucking obviously, but Lyla always jumps to the most extreme conclusions. She wouldn’t only think that I want to fuck this woman. No, that would be simple. She’d think that I would fuck this woman in her ugly minivan, get her pregnant, and marry her. She’s sick like that. I love that about her. Right about now, I’m wishing Shit-head or the stupid dad would take this woman’s attention from me. With the way he’s been staring at Lyla, the dad seems to have forgotten that his daughter is actually on the field playing. I keep my arms crossed and my glare directed at him. If only I had Superman’s laser beams right now.
“Does your kid play here?” the mom asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Not yet.”
“Oh,” she says it in a flirty tone as she accidentally brushes up against the side of my arm. “Did you just move here?”
“Not yet,” I say through gritted teeth, because of course, that’s when Lyla decides to look over here. It’s quick, but our eyes meet.
I need to get rid of this fucking lady. I stay quiet. Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll leave. The dad is pointing his phone at the field and it takes everything in me to stay put. He might actually be taking pictures of his daughter. God, I need to steal that phone. The mom shifts and clears her throat. I’m two seconds away from walking away, when it occurs to me that she can be useful. It’s not like Liam is helping me out.
“Exploring your options?” she asks.
“You can say that.”
When I look at her again, she’s checking my left hand for a ring, as if that would stop her from trying to get me to her minivan.
“There aren’t many dads here,” I say, making it a point to look around. There really aren’t.