Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“You’re such a—”
“Careful.” He leans down just enough to bring us eye to eye. “Wouldn’t want to break our little deal, would you? That’d be embarrassing.”
My jaw locks so hard it’s a miracle my teeth don’t crack. The worst part is he’s right. If I snap, I lose. And Hudson, the king of arrogance, would never let me live it down.
I glare at him, my whole body vibrating with restrained fury. “You’re insufferable.”
“Yet here you are,” he counters, stepping around me with infuriating ease. He gives me a cocky wink as he walks away, his voice trailing him. “See you at the bar, Hex.”
He whistles as he goes, like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.
My fists clench at my sides, and I vow—right then and there—that I will win this bet if it’s the last thing I do. Hudson Wilde may have the upper hand tonight, but he has no idea who he’s dealing with.
He thinks he’s clever and untouchable, but this isn’t over. Not even close.
28
Molly
With the first round of the playoffs over, it’s nice to have this little break even if it’s only for a day.
Of all the events we do as a team, this is by far my favorite.
Not because I’m particularly social or love standing around with players who constantly test my patience.
No, it’s because there are puppies.
Dozens of adorable, squishy, barking puppies.
My heart doesn’t stand a chance.
I love dogs.
Dogs are the greatest thing that has happened to all of humankind.
Honestly, if I was given a choice, I’d adopt every dog, start a compound, and live there happily for the rest of my life.
Unfortunately, logistically, that’s not an option, so instead, I take part in fun events like this. Helping dogs in need get adopted.
A few feet away, I hear a commotion and turn to look in that direction. The makeshift stage buzzes with activity, and in the background is my favorite sound—the sound of puppies barking. I try to keep a straight face, but every time one of them lets out a yip or trips over its own paws, my resolve crumbles a little more.
Heaven.
This must be what heaven is.
Except for a few pesky details. Like the press. Cameras flash as the dogs run around and play.
I want to scoop one up and run off into the sunset, but instead, I stand near the edge of where we’ve set up for today’s event, trying to look like I’m in control. The truth? I’m already plotting which of these pups I’d adopt if I could.
From the corner of my eye, I see my brother. He’s shaking his head as Josie approaches him, cradling the cutest labradoodle I’ve ever seen.
“Good luck,” I call to him, fighting the urge to laugh.
“Thanks,” he mutters back, knowing full well that if Josie wants this puppy, it’s already a done deal.
“But first, before any adoption can take place, there’s a little matter of a photo shoot,” I remind him.
“I’m not doing it,” Dane grunts.
“Tell that to your girl. She signed you up,” I say, biting back a grin.
“I’m keeping my shirt on.”
“No, you’re not.” Josie bounces closer, still holding the puppy.
“Hellfire . . .”
“Don’t hellfire me, Mr. Grump. We will raise triple the money for these dogs.” She lifts the dog, her eyes practically glowing with mischief. “Please.”
“Fine,” Dane sighs, trudging off toward the photographer. The labradoodle wags its tail enthusiastically, oblivious to Dane’s suffering.
I watch them walk away, but my attention is drawn elsewhere.
Of course, it’s Hudson.
He’s dead center in the photo shoot, shirtless, holding a Maltese puppy like it’s the Cup. His grin is so annoyingly perfect that it practically blinds me. And if how handsome he is isn’t enough, he starts to nuzzle the dog.
Goddamn.
My ovaries are in full revolt. This is not fair.
No man this hot should hold a puppy. It’s basically cheating.
Next to him is Mason, the team’s second-in-command for attention-seeking antics. He’s striking a pose with a squirming beagle, laughing every time the puppy licks his face. The crowd loves it. They love them. Cameras flash as fans cheer and whistle.
If I roll my eyes any harder, they’d be in the back of my skull.
I shouldn’t be surprised. This is what Hudson does, after all.
Always the life of the party. He’s always front and center, soaking up every ounce of attention like he was born for it.
I turn to distance myself from him and find Dane still holding the puppy as if it’s radioactive.
“Can’t I just write a check?” he asks Josie, who’s now shaking her head at him with an exaggerated pout.
“He wants us to adopt him.” Oh, she’s laying it on thick, bottom lip puffed out and all.
“The team should adopt him,” Hudson says, his voice way too close for my liking.
Of course, he’s here. He’s always here. Like a shadow I can’t escape.