Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Her lips twitch, her dimples popping out. "Why? Because everyone already knows about the team circle jerks?" She pats me on the shoulder. "It's okay, buddy. I won't tell them you violated the rule about being a team…player."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "You're a wild one, Emilia Lariat."
She takes a tiny sip of her milkshake, grinning around the straw.
I glance behind us to see the entire team watching us in various states of shock and awe. Archer looks worried. Jordan looks bored. Everyone else is blatantly staring.
Fuck. I should go back to the table and mind my own business. Flirting with the Coach's daughter is the last place my big ass needs to be when everyone at that booth may bear the brunt of my decisions.
I turn back to Emilia to find her staring at me like she doesn't want to look away. My fucking heart clenches, the desire to walk away rapidly dwindling.
What is it about this girl that's so fucking irresistible?
Everything, I quickly decide. It's everything. She feels…inevitable. Or hell, maybe we feel inevitable. I don't fucking know. This is far beyond my realm of expertise or experience. It's been years since I even went on a date. But I've always heeded my instincts, and they're telling me that this girl is important.
They've been telling me the same damn thing since I saw her standing in the locker room. Coach doesn't have to understand that, but I think maybe his daughter understands a little too well. I see it reflecting in her eyes. She's just as caught as I am…and just as confused.
The little flash of vulnerability in her eyes as she stares at me has my resolve to try to keep things between us professional crumbling to dust. There's nothing professional about this. It's about as personal as it gets.
"Why didn't I know you were Lariat's kid?" I murmur, leaning closer to her.
"Maybe you don't pay enough attention," she says pertly. "Archer told the team I was his daughter."
"I was in the shower."
"Naked," she mumbles, her eyes glazing over as they slide down my body. "Think you can recreate that scene for me? For science, obviously. I, unfortunately, know what the rest of the team looks like. It's only fair I have your data for comparison." Her dimples pop out again. "My fantasy league still needs an MVP."
"Depends," I rumble, chuckling. Christ, she's hilarious. "You gotta answer my questions first."
"What questions?" she eyes me suspiciously. "You don't want to know what other datapoints I use to pick my fantasy dream team, Whatley. Trust me."
Well, shit. Now, I kinda do want to know.
"Oh! You asked what else you should know about me, right?"
"That's one of them."
"Hmm." She taps her lips, thinking about it. "I just graduated and moved back."
"To take the job as our shrink."
"To be closer to my dad. But yeah, I guess that too." Her worried eyes meet mine. "Does it bother you?"
"Which part?"
"That I'm the new therapist."
"Nah, I'm good with it."
Relief filters across her face before her teeth sink into her plump bottom lip. "What about the rest of it?"
Telling her yes and ending this here and now is the sane thing to do. But as already established, there's no fucking way I'm doing that. Not going to happen. One way or another, Emilia Lariat is going to be mine. Coach doesn't have to like it. He'll live. But I want his daughter, and I fully intend to get her.
"Good with that part too, baby girl," I grunt.
"Good." She beams at me, her gold eyes bright. "Because I'd really hate for that rumor about your…activities to get out. I mean, if the bunnies knew what you guys do in that locker room?" She shakes her head, tsking. "You'd need more than a measly door to keep them at bay."
"It certainly didn't stop you, did it?"
"Did you just call me a puck bunny?" she asks, one brow arched. "I thought we already established that you don't do puck bunnies, Nash."
"Oh, I don't. But I can think of a few things I want to do to you," I say dryly.
"I just bet you can." Humor dances in her eyes as she slides from her stool. "Dance with me."
"Uh…" I glance around. "This isn't that kind of bar, Emilia."
"So? It can be if we make it one. I mean…unless you're afraid?"
It's a goddamn gauntlet meant to illicit a reaction. I know it is. But with that wicked smirk on her lips and the fire in her eyes, I'm moving before I even know it. I grab her hand, lacing our fingers together as I pull her toward the center of the bar.
The music floating through the bar isn't loud, but it suits our purposes as I pull her up against my chest and then spin her. A loud peal of surprised laughter burbles from her lips.