Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Chance and Aubrey walk toward the tables, and I stare after them. “Did you have fun today?” I ask CJ.
“Daddy.” He points to where Chance and Aubrey are filling their plates.
“Look.” I point up to the jumbotron that has Chance’s smiling mug on display, trying to distract him. He’s daddy’s boy through and through. Slowly, each member of the coaching staff gets their turn before it moves on to the players. Of course, the first player would be their starting quarterback, Landon Barker. His dark hair, those ocean blue eyes, and his cocky smirk are enlarged on the screen. I stare at him and take in his features. The hint of his dimple again winking through his beard, and the sparkle in his eyes. “Lucky Bastard,” I mumble under my breath. He was born with good genes that I’m sure has panties dropping all over Hermosa Beach, hell all over the world if I’m honest.
“Maybe you should pull out your phone and take a picture,” a deep voice rumbles from over my shoulder. His hot breath dances across my skin.
Turning my head, I see Landon. “Nah, just comparing your stats to Holland. You’ve got some work to do.” I have no idea if what I just said is true. I love football, but I’m not one of those keep all the stats kind of football fan. I’m more of a kick-back, drink a beer, eat some wings, and yell at the TV kind of girl. Oh, and don’t forget the pants. I like to think of myself as a connoisseur of football pants. Not just the pants, but the asses that fill them. Trust me, ladies, if this is not something that you’ve witnessed, tune in on Sunday afternoon and see for yourself. I promise you that you won’t be disappointed.
“You’re something else, you know that?” There’s a smile playing on his lips, and part of me feels relieved I haven’t offended him, and the other part is irritated that I didn’t. It doesn’t make any sense, and I can’t believe I’m letting him have this kind of effect on me. “Why don’t—” He starts, but I step away from him when Aubrey turns to wave at me.
I don’t stick around for whatever lewd comment I’m sure would have come out of his mouth. I’m not here to take part in a sparring match with the sexy quarterback. No, I’m here to support Chance and be the sidekick to my best friend. That’s where my priorities lie today. One step after another, my feet carry me to Chance and Aubrey.
“You hungry?” Aubrey asks CJ as I set him in the chair beside her.
He doesn’t answer her but reaches for a piece of fruit from the plate she placed in front of him. “I’m going to go grab a plate. You guys need anything?”
“Maybe a few extra napkins.” Chance chuckles as he watches his son shove another handful of sticky fruit into his mouth.
“Got it.” Making my way to the tables filled with food, I’m impressed. I may be a Mavericks fan, but the Trojans obviously know how to go all out. Today has been fun. To see how the other side lives, bumping elbows with professional football players and their families. Sure, they’re not my team, but I can accept this day for what it is, which is a once in a lifetime experience.
“You know…” A deep sexy voice appears beside me. “…if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to avoid me.”
“Look at you, hitting the nail on the head,” I say, dismissing him as I fill my plate. I’m not trying to be a bitch, not really. I just know what these guys are like. I see them in the tabloids with a different woman on their arm each time. I know they’re just living their best lives—a new woman to fill their bed in every city. I’m not judging. To each their own and all that. It’s just not me. I’m not about that. I don’t do casual, even for the sexy football god that is Landon Barker.
“Right,” he sniggers. “Look. I’m here for three more weeks, but maybe once training camp is over, we can have dinner.”
“Dinner, is that what all the cool kids are calling it these days?”
He smirks.
Fucking dimple.
“No, thanks.”
“Come on, sweetheart, don’t leave me hanging.”
“First of all, my name is Emma, and second, I don’t date players.” Not just football players, but men in general who look at dating as a sport. I’m not interested in all that or the STDs that come with it.
“Emma.” His voice is deep and husky, and it sends a shiver through me. My body needs to get on board with the no-players thing.
I take my time as I finish filling my plate and grab a large stack of napkins before I turn to face him. He has the same pose as earlier—legs spread apart, arms folded across his chest, and all the sexiness that he is on full display. “Go out with me.”