Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“Flint Dagus Stone,” I told her.
She frowned. “Dagus? What kind of name is Dagus?”
She had the nerve to talk.
“What kind of name is Camryn Elvis Presley?” I countered.
She gasped.
“How did you know that was my name?” she demanded, irate.
“I know because I know shit.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Now, go get in your car and get going. And watch the traffic. Try not to hit me again.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I wanted to reach out and poke her in the forehead.
Instead, I settled for a tilt of my chin in the direction of her car.
She stomped off in a huff. “I hope you’re happy.”
The moment she got into her car, she threw the ticket on the floorboard and started her car.
Moments later, she pulled out and flipped me off for good measure.
Grinning, I got back in my car and spoke to my dog. “She’s crazy.”
My dog didn’t answer.
Chapter 2
You may be in your 30s if getting a vacuum cleaner for Valentine’s Day makes you more excited than getting chocolate.
-Camryn’s secret thoughts
Camryn
I looked up at the intimidating building and felt my belly clench with fear.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said to my best friend, shooting her a look of incredulity. “I refuse.”
Raleigh looked at me with pleading in her eyes. “Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?”
I growled in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I repeated.
Raleigh gave me her huge doe eyes, and I started to cave.
“Raleigh, this is CrossFit. This is hardcore shit. You’ve tried CrossFit, and it didn’t go too well, remember? Can’t we try that wine and yoga class I tagged you in last week on Instagram? Pretty please with sugar on top?” I folded my hands together and brought them up to my face.
“No,” she said. “I need to sweat. I need to lose ten pounds, and this flab around my middle so that I can look pretty in my bikini. I’ve heard a lot of good things about this CrossFit gym. Do you know who Rich Froning is?”
I frowned. “Vaguely. Isn’t he that super-hot guy that used to be a firefighter?”
I honestly wasn’t sure why I knew who he was.
That was a lie.
The reason I knew who he was, was because Raleigh’s brother, whom I’d had a crush on since forever, was big into CrossFit. I knew exactly who Rich Froning was because Croft was super big into CrossFit and had been since a couple of years ago. In a vain attempt to hold a conversation with the man without seeming desperate, I started to do everything I could to learn everything there was to know about the sport.
She nodded. “He’s like the King of CrossFit. Anyway, the reason I mention him is because they say there’s a coach here that looks a lot like him. Only he’s a cop, not a firefighter. I know you’ll like him.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re going to have to give me another reason,” I told her honestly. “I’m still not totally convinced.”
“Croft goes to this class.”
I sighed. “I’ve given up on Croft.”
And I had. I’d moved on.
There was only so much a girl could do before she started to look desperate and dumb, and I’d more than surpassed that point with Croft at least three years ago. Yet I kept trying, and the more I tried to get on his radar, the worse he ignored me.
“You’ve done what?” she asked in surprise. “You can’t give up on him! How are we supposed to be sisters for real if you give up on him?”
I grimaced as a familiar black sports car rolled up, engine rumbling.
Croft got out and waved at Raleigh. He didn’t spare me a glance.
“I don’t think he likes me.” I paused. “Funny, but I don’t think many men like me, and I’m not quite sure why.”
I was a nice person, at least for the most part. I was nice to men. But I could never get a man to want me. I dressed pretty. I had a semi-nice body that was on the verge of being a little too curvy. My boobs were great, and I had a really great smile. My hair was strawberry blonde, and despite being stick straight, it styled nicely when I found time to curl it.
But, right then, I was dressed in workout gear that was on the verge of being too tight. My black pants were some of those high-waisted ones that came up over your navel. The shirt that I wore was an old one from high school that had two gun barrels on it and beneath those said ‘Come and Take It.’ I’d cut the sleeves off of it, and it’d been washed so many times that it was no longer a bright red, but more of a soft, faded heather red.
My shoes were cute, though. At least I had that going for me.