Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I lift the other brow. “Punish me, baby?”
He tosses up his hands. “Maybe you liked bondage and stuff.”
“I’ve been a bad girl?”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey, now. No judgies.”
“None from me,” I say, enjoying the same rapport as we did on Sunday. “But that’s not what I’d say.”
Drew parks his hands on his hips, issuing me a challenging stare. “What would you say, Surf Angel?”
I step closer, part my lips, lick them, and say, “Smack my ass. Hard. Harder. Yes. Just like that.”
His breath comes out staggered. “Brooke,” he says in a warning.
I do need to stop flirting, for real. When we slept together on Sunday, we weren’t working together. But now we are. I’ve stepped into a new job, the team is on reputation rehab, and Drew has a chance to show what he’s made of professionally.
I hate to say this. Truly I do. But there is no other choice. “We can’t go out tonight. Or at all.”
He’s quiet at first, impassive. I can picture him watching a game from the sidelines, giving nothing away. Then, with disappointment, he nods. “I had a feeling.”
“With the trouble the team has been through, we can’t take a chance of anything that would be…” I pause, hunting for the word. “Inappropriate. Even remotely inappropriate.”
No way in hell would management want a lawyer diddling with a player.
“Of course. We don’t want to put the team in a bad light,” he says. It’s a relief that he understands the full scope of the disaster another night together could be.
“And it’s your first year here,” I add. “We both have a lot at stake.”
“Exactly. Gotta keep everything above board.” Drew’s mood shifts from disappointed to playful. “But I bet there’s no rule that we can’t be friends. How’s that for a technicality?”
I can’t help it. I smile too. This man could charm the panties off me any day.
I mean, the pants.
He’s totally not charming my thong off. That little lacy number is staying where it belongs.
“That’s a good technicality. Let’s be friends,” I say, and we shake on it.
My one-night stand is now officially off-limits in the bedroom.
As friends, we return to the ballroom and join my colleagues and the people from the charity. We chat and nibble on appetizers, Drew posing for photos in front of the banner.
He’s the opposite of the guys from last year.
There’s no scowl to be seen for miles.
He’s so photogenic. That smile that dazzled me the day I met him on the beach is shining at full wattage. My chest warms as I look at him.
Someone nudges me and I startle, then relax when I realize it’s Stephen. “It’s like hiring America’s guy next door for the quarterback,” my boss says at a low volume, shaking his head in admiration.
“That’s a pretty apt description,” I agree.
“He’s going to make our lives so much easier if this keeps up. The camera loves him,” he says. “When you add in the mom, the kid sisters, the lifelong friends—it’s a PR dream.”
He might as well blow a chef’s kiss. Stephen’s got a vision for his new golden guy. He’ll serve it up to the media, and the media will love it.
“That would make our lives easier,” I say.
He grins, diabolically pleased. Then he tips his chin toward the guy with the magic arm and the perfect rep. “Let’s grab a photo of you with him too.”
I shoot him the side-eye.
“No. Seriously. I want pictures of him everywhere. I want to show the world we’re a united team, from management to the players, here at the Mercenaries.”
I slap on my poker face and slide in next to the star.
“Lucky me,” Drew whispers.
But we’re sort of unlucky too.
When the event winds down, Paul from the charity corrals Drew into a long conversation, and it’s time for me to call it a night. I say goodbye to Stephen, thanking him again for the horchata and the promotion, then I head to the lobby to call a Lyft.
I enter my location in the app, but before I can finish, I hear footsteps.
I stop tapping. I turn around. Drew’s by my side.
“You’re not leaving without saying goodbye, are you?”
“Of course not. Just ordering a Lyft. I was going to say goodbye.”
He covers my hand with his. “Don’t take a Lyft. Let’s walk for a bit. As friends.”
So, as friends, we leave together.
9
MY HARDSHIP
Drew
I don’t want a consolation prize with Brooke, but I also don’t want to go home yet. So in this case, I take the consolation prize. I hold the door for her as we go, glancing toward the ocean, the waves crashing nearby.
“Have you been paddle boarding since that fateful day?” she asks.
“No. And I won’t be paddle boarding again,” I say, explaining that the Mercenaries GM added it to the list of forbidden activities. “I’m just glad paddle boarding was allowed when I got hit on the head with that guy’s oar.”