Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I huffed, but shut up shortly afterwards.
He made a weird sort of sense.
“Your phone’s lighting your purse up,” Casten observed, interrupting my thoughts.
I frowned, wondering who in their right mind would be texting this early in the morning.
My phone only lit up for text messages.
I was a lazy person by nature.
And since the majority of the time it was on silent, the only thing that distinguished a text from a call was a flash of light from my phone.
“Thanks,” I grumbled, swiping the phone open.
Hello, the strange number’s text read.
Me: Who is this?
Strange number: We met at the bar last night. It was nice to meet you.
I blinked, then turned to Casten.
“Did I meet any weird men and give them my number?” I questioned him.
He shook his head.
“Not from what I saw. You were there the entire time I was,” he answered.
I was?
“I was?” I echoed my thoughts.
He nodded. “Was sitting in the back when you came in. You sat down, and you looked a little weird, so I came to sit with you. You never gave anyone your number.”
I blinked, then handed him the phone.
He kept rolling as he scrolled over the message, then frowned.
“Ignore him,” he grunted.
I nodded, hitting delete on the messages, then dropping it back into my bag.
“Are you going to make me do this the entire way there or are you going to get on?” He lifted his brows at me.
“I’m going to make you drive to that stop sign right there,” I pointed. “Then I’m going to go into that coffee shop and get myself another cup of coffee, then I’ll come back and get on your bike.”
He nodded, not complaining at all that I was making him wait.
Nor that I was weird, because I got that a lot, too.
“Bring me a black coffee,” Casten ordered as I turned to go into the coffee shop.
I smiled at him over my shoulder, walking into the coffee shop.
“I need a black coffee, large,” I smiled at the barista.
“Name?” The little barista looked bored.
“George,” I smirked, but I pronounced it in a Spanish accent, the way Kassie pronounced her father’s name, whose bar I’d been at last night.
The girl nodded, writing on the cup.
“What else?” she continued, ringing up the black coffee.
I studied the board in front of me.
“Do you have any pumpkin spice coffee?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Teeny only has what you see listed here,” she gestured, pointing to a list in front of my face.
Idly I wondered just who “Teeny” was, but decided it’d go faster if I didn’t let my natural curiosity take over this morning.
I had a hot biker on his motorcycle outside waiting patiently for me, and I didn’t want him to leave me.
I nodded.
“I want a mocha latte, medium,” I smiled.
“Name?”
“Donna,” I quipped cheerfully.
She looked at me like I was lying…which I was.
But how did she know that?
Who said I had to give her my name?
“Thank you,” I said as I handed her a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
The barista smiled faintly, nodding to the customer that was at my back.
I left, shouldering the door open, then walking straight to Casten where he still sat on his bike.
Both of his muscular thighs hugged the motorcycle as he firmly planted both feet on the ground to hold the powerful machine steady.
The bike was loud, too.
He took his cup, looked at the name that was on the cup, and then back at me with a lifted eyebrow in question.
“What?” I feigned innocence.
He turned the cup around, allowing me to see the name, and I burst out laughing.
“Oh, my God!” I wheezed. “I told her George in a Spanish accent. Not Whore Hey!”
Casten rolled his eyes and placed his drink into a cup holder that magically appeared on the handlebars.
I’d thought the circle thing was just decoration, but obviously it was functional as well.
I, on the other hand, had to hold my drink.
Which worked out well because if I had to put my arms around him, I might start thinking inappropriate thoughts.
Three minutes later, we arrived at the school, with only minutes to spare, before I was supposed to start practice.
“Sorry, ladies,” I called, dismounting the bike from behind Casten.
The girls stared at me like they’d never seen me before.
“What?” I shooed them out of my way as Casten turned his bike off. “What are you doing?” I asked before they could answer.
Casten nodded at a dark car in the parking lot that was completely away from all of the players’ cars.
“Whose car is that?” He studied it.
It was parked nearly in the back of the lot, away from any of the lights that lit up the rest of the lot.
It was six in the morning, and the sun barely started to rise, meaning there wasn’t much, if anything, to see.
“Not ours,” Tiffany looked.