Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
That’s a lot of f-bombs in one conversation. I’ve never heard him swear. Well, except for that one time…cowgate comes to mind. My heart is suddenly a jackhammer pounding against my poor bruised chest. I step into the doorway of his office and he glances up from his computer screen. The stern look he gives me doesn’t bother me as it used to. His gaze glides over me like hands making sure I’m in one piece.
“What’s wrong?” he says brusquely, which only confirms my prior sentiment.
“I heard your conversation,” I confess, dissembling at the moment is beyond me. “Was that the GM?” He answers with a slow nod. “I was coming to tell you that we’re in the tabloids.”
His eyes do a slow perusal of my face, reading every single nuance. “You look weird.”
“I don’t look weird,” I argue, the corners of my lips curving up at the absurdity of the situation. “I’m just…I can’t believe you spoke like that to the GM. Aren’t you concerned about your contract?”
His gaze drifts away for a while, his expression pensive. Then it swings back to me purposefully. “Not anymore.”
Waiting for him to elaborate ends in vain. Silence ensues. I spend most of it rocking back and forth on my heels and dissecting into a million pieces what he just admitted and all I can come up with is this, “That was very nice of you.”
His eyes lock with mine, narrowed, sparking with irritation. “No, it wasn’t,” he grumbles and looks away again. “It’s the least I can do.”
“It was very chivalrous of you––to come to my rescue like that.”
His face twists into a semi-disgusted look, a deep v doctoring his brow. “I’m not chivalrous.” Still not looking my way. I just can’t resist…shooting fish in a barrel.
“You’re much too good to me.”
The look of utter confusion on his face is priceless. “I’m not good to you at all. I got you into this.” It comes out all rushed and surly.
“Are you sure about that?” I tease some more.
“Yeah. I know what I want, and I know how to get it,” he says absently. Like I never stood a chance against the power of his will. He’s partly right about that. He’s kind of irresistible when he’s being sweet.
“What do we do now?”
“We’re not hiding, that’s for dang sure.” His twang popped up sometime during the shouting match on the phone and has hung around since. Then his eyes slam into mine, sharp, cunning. He’s a man with a goal in mind. “You wanna go on a date?”
I don’t answer. Because we both know I don’t really have a choice.
Chapter Eighteen
When Cal informs me that we’re going to a Yankees game, I lose my shit––to put it mildly. I almost vibrate off the planet is more like it. Adding to my excitement, they’re playing Boston. I’m squirming in my seat all the way to the stadium. Even Sam, who Cal thought to include without me needing to suggest it thank goodness, is looking at me funny.
I was positive that Calvin would’ve gotten seats in a suite. I’m more of a ‘brave the elements’ kind of fan. I mean, if you’re going to go to a stadium then what the frig are you doing watching it inside on a screen, right? Anyway, he astounds me once again when I’m informed that we have MVP field seats low down on the left side of the field. Not in this lifetime will I ever be able to afford such great seats on my own. Those seats are reserved for legacy season ticket holders and such. At this point, I’m almost in hysterics.
Even though it’s a night game, Calvin pulls a Yankees cap out of his back pocket and puts it on, keeping it pulled down low and his eyes trained on me while we look for our seats.
“Are you always like this at games?” he asks as we make our way down the aisle. I have a ridiculous smile splitting my face that hasn’t budged since we’ve stepped into the ballpark. I nod vigorously, and he adds, “Make sure you wear a hat when you come to mine.”
It takes me a minute to grasp what he’s just said. I squirm in my seat and brave a sideways glance. He’s staring straight ahead…like he hasn’t just lobbed a hand grenade at me. Go to his games? It’s June. That won’t be for another two months. By then, Sam will be back home with his mom. And I’ll be…somewhere else. All of a sudden, I have an upset stomach. Except I haven’t eaten anything in hours. I’m definitely not wearing a smile anymore.
“What’s wrong?” My attention jerks back to Cal.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“I just...” I look into his patient eyes and my stomach flips. I’m going to miss him. How the heck did this happen? “I was just thinking about where I’ll be in two months.”