Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Who’s it going to be?” I asked, pushing away from the table, sliding my hands in my pockets as a drop of adrenaline slid down my spine.
Fuck, was I really going to do this?
Gareth glanced over his shoulder. “Her.”
“Oh, shit,” Weston said as Gareth pointed out the beautiful woman who’d held my attention all night. “Gareth,” he continued. “She looks so…”
“Sweet.” Brynn finished for him.
I gaped at both of them. “I’m not a monster.”
“I believe I hold that title,” Gareth said, arching a brow at us.
“I never said you were,” Brynn said.
“I have full confidence in you,” Daisy added, a wide smile on her face. “Also, give me all the details whenever you want. This stuff is gold to me.”
I shot her a warning look, and she returned the gaze with an unabashed challenge that helped ease some of the tension gathering in my chest.
Fine. This would all be fine.
It was clear none of them believed I could hold a woman’s interest longer than a night anyway, so even if I managed to entertain her for a week, it would be a win. Not a technical win, since I had to make her fall in love with me, but even I didn’t believe I was capable of that.
Not that they needed to know that.
“Clock is ticking,” Crossland egged me on, and I flipped him off before I slipped on my suit jacket and smoothed it out.
I leaned down in front of Crossland. “You know I’m going to repay you for putting this idea in his head, don’t you?”
“I look forward to it.” Cross raised his drink. “Good luck.”
I laughed, shook my head, and made my way out of the private room.
The atmosphere immediately shifted the moment I stepped into the busy restaurant. Music pumped from hidden speakers combining with chatter from the patrons, filling the space with an excited energy that was drastically different than our calm, quiet room.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman as I walked straight for her table. I wasn’t sad Gareth had chosen her as the subject of this bet, especially since I’d been thinking of excuses to speak with her all night.
But then again, the thought of allowing her—or any woman—to get to know the real me was about as terrifying as the lava-chasing Weston wanted me to do last year.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked, motioning to the empty chair across from her.
Her blue eyes fluttered up to mine with a curious, confused glance before she checked her phone. “You’re not Tray Rollins,” she said, furrowing her brow, which made the cutest little wrinkle form between them.
“Can’t say that I am,” I said.
She looked from her phone to me and back again. “Definitely not blonde or six feet.”
“I’m six-four actually,” I said, gripping the back of the chair. “It looks like Tray is late.”
“More than,” she said with a sigh.
“His loss is my gain,” I said, and she arched a brow at the line. “May I sit?”
“That depends,” she said, sitting her phone face down on the table.
“On?”
“If you can correctly answer three questions.”
A laugh ripped from my lips, and I folded my arms over my chest. “What is this, a riddle to get across a private bridge?”
“Are you saying I’m a troll?”
My mouth parted open, shock slashing through me. “Of course not,” I hurried to say. “I only meant—”
Her laugh cut over me, warm and rich and absolutely addictive. “God, you should see your face. I’m fucking with you,” she said.
I blinked a few times, laughing as I tried to keep up.
“Anyway,” she said, her smile brightening so much it took my breath away. “Ready?”
“Fine,” I said. “Shoot.”
“Cats or dogs?”
“Dogs,” I said, nodding at the rapid fire. “Nothing against cats. I just like an animal that can go on a run with me or save me if I’m drowning.”
She pursed her lips. “Romance or true crime?”
“True crime,” I answered honestly. “Romance after as a palate cleanser.”
Something flickered in her blue eyes at that response, and I instantly wanted to put that look on her face as often as possible.
“Okay,” she said. “Ready for the most important one?”
I swallowed hard, shifting where I stood, wondering what the hell was going to come out of her mouth next and loving that I didn’t have a clue.
“Hurricanes or Braves?”
My eyebrows shot up at the reference to my team. She didn’t know who I was. How was that possible with the media fire I was currently under?
“Hurricanes,” I said. “No question.”
Her smile widened, and then she nodded.
“Did I pass the test?”
“You may sit.”
I sank into the chair, unbuttoning my suit jacket as I leaned forward. “Are you a Hurricanes fan?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “It’s a must for my questions list,” she continued after taking a sip of her drink. “It’s okay if you’re not a baseball fan, but it definitely hinders conversations if you don’t like my team.”