Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
As soon as my shift was over, I rushed home and ate a salad before changing. What does one wear to a Pong competition anyway? I had no clue, and I wasn’t in the mood for a group chat, so I grabbed a t-shirt and the first pair of jeans I spotted and put them on. It wasn’t sexy, but it wasn’t a potato sack either, so I gave myself one quick look in the mirror and headed to the community center.
I stopped just inside the gymnasium where the competition was being held and stared. The place was packed—so packed they’d pulled out the bleachers to make room for more spectators. My heart raced at the thought of such a huge audience. I expected a couple dozen people, but there were at least a hundred already here. Holiday Grove was known for coming out and supporting events, but this was a lot.
It’s okay, Kayla. You’re okay. I shook my hands to dispel the lingering nerves and walked over to the sign-in table to register and get our team balls. A sign that read “Team Green” sat on one of the tables, and I made my way over there and waited. There was no getting around it; tonight, avoiding Mac was over.
We were in this together, no matter what.
Half a dozen photographers walked in, and a hush fell over the noisy gym. Seconds later, it was clear why, as the doors opened and Mac strolled in, wearing a beaming smile and a sleeveless t-shirt that said, “I’m with Dr. Hottie.” He stopped and looked around the gym as if searching for something, but when his gaze landed on mine and he hit me with a sexy-as-hell grin, my heart stopped.
Holy hell, was he hot! The man knew how to wear a pair of jeans, and with his arms—and tattoos—on full display, he looked every inch the bad boy rocker. But that smile? It was one hundred percent boy next door. My chest tightened, and heat rushed over every inch of my skin as Mac held my gaze until he stood less than a foot from me. “Mac, hey.”
He wiggled his brows. “Hey babe. Done ignoring me?”
I nodded and folded my arms, working hard to keep my smile from breaking free. “Seems so. Mad about it?”
“Nah,” he shook his head in that carefree way of his. “Hurt. Disappointed, but not mad. I missed you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I missed you too. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t you, but the comments online,” I let the comment go because there was no point in finishing it.
“Yeah, keyboard warriors are the fucking worst. They all need a solid ass-kicking in person.”
“Agreed.” Now that the air was clear, I felt better. “Ready to drink your weight in green beer?”
He patted what I knew to be six-pack abs and nodded. “I ate a Reuben sandwich before I came here to soak up some of the better.” He leaned in with that devilish smile. “Don’t worry, I brushed my teeth, so you don’t have to worry about sauerkraut kisses.”
I laid a hand on his chest and patted it as I batted my eyelashes up at him. “Such a thoughtful Pong partner.”
“Right? Lucky you.” He flung his arm around me casually and looked around the room. “I think we got this. Unless you really are a secret lightweight.”
“Only one way to find out. Get our Pong on!” It felt good to smile and laugh with Mac, or maybe it was the alcohol. Whatever it was, I felt more relaxed and happier as the tournament moved forward. Mac’s casual touches—an arm brush here or his big hand spread low on my back—were enough to remind me of just how fantastic things were between us that night. And that morning. And even after breakfast.
“Nice shot, Doc!” He wrapped his big, bare arms around me; his masculine scent enveloped me as much as his arms. “Fuck, you smell good.” His words were a low growl in my ear that sent a thunderbolt of a shiver down my spine.
I looked up at him and batted my eyelashes. “And I thought that was you.”
Heat blazed in his eyes. “Wicked woman. Let’s win this thing.”
We won the first two games easily and ended up drinking less than a cup of the surprisingly disgusting lukewarm beer. The third game was more challenging, mostly because our opponents were a couple of guys less than six months out of college. We managed to squeeze out a win, but I was tipsy and in need of biscuits. Or fries. Or something carb-y and greasy.
“Okay, let’s take a ten-minute break before the final two rounds!” The mayor’s smile was big, and her eyes sparkled. She was in her element, keeping Holiday Grove fun and quirky.
We barely made it five feet from the table before Mac stopped me, tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and ran his thumb along my jaw. “How you holding up?”