Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
We move through the crowd until Fable sees someone she wants to speak to. I stand beside her, my hand at her back, my thumb moving along her ribs as she explains all the things we’re doing in the west rink to the folks who run the Ford Ice Center in Clarksville, Tennessee. They go back and forth, trading ideas, and I’ve never been so proud of Fable. I’ve seen her get overwhelmed by these kinds of conversations, but tonight, she’s glowing.
“Tell them about the raccoon telenovela,” I suggest when the conversation gets stale.
Her eyes brighten as the two men become very interested. I’m amused as she tells them all about Lady and Sir Trashington, and I’m surprised when one of the guys, I think his name is Warren, explains that they name their raccoons after players from the Nashville Assassins. That has Fable laughing loudly, and I can’t help but smile. They exchange numbers, and I don’t miss the looks in the men’s eyes. They find Fable irresistible, but they’re respectful, which I appreciate.
That doesn’t mean I hold her any less tightly.
As we move toward our table since the dinner will be served soon, Fable leans her lips to my ear. “Have you seen my parents?”
I shake my head. “No, not yet.” She exhales heavily, and I can feel her stress coming off her in waves as she looks around. I rub her back and then kiss her temple. “I’ve got you, princess.”
Relief flashes in her eyes as she brushes her lips to my cheek. “Thank you,” she mumbles then gives me a small smile. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”
I nod. “I’ll be at our table.”
I kiss her temple and watch as she walks away. I can’t get enough of her, and I almost want to follow her. If I do, though, I’ll be hiking up that dress and ruining her lipstick with ease. I have fallen desperately in love with her, and I don’t know how to keep these feelings in anymore. There have been so many times in the last three weeks that I’ve wanted to scream at her that I love her, that she is all I want. And beg her never to leave me. She’s so damn smart, and I love watching her brain work. I love watching her period, and I don’t know how much longer I can wait to tell her how I feel.
I don’t even know why I’m waiting.
I think she loves me too—at least, it feels that way, with how she looks at me, clings to me, and moans my name so beautifully. I feel her love with just a glance, how she’ll cheer so loudly for me as I play, while wearing my jersey. It’s as if we’re living in our own bubble, and coming here has my nerves exposed.
When I walked in, though, Fable’s hand in mine, she looked up at me with this expression of poise and adoration, and I realized I didn’t give two shits what anyone thought. I was so worried that everyone would look at me with disgust the way her parents do, or someone would say I wasn’t good enough for a woman as gorgeous and incredible as her, but that hasn’t happened.
We are everything I always knew we would be.
Thinking that makes eighteen-year-old Jett Cook proud.
On an exhale, I turn to head toward table one. I don’t know how we scored a front table, but I should have known it is because we have been seated with Fable’s parents. Richie and Elena Winthrops’ gazes snap to me as I reach for the chair on the other side of them. They are both dressed to the nines. Elena even has on a diamond-encrusted headband that looks like a crown. Elena’s lips part in shock, while Richie’s glare shines with hatred. As much as I want to tell them to go plant trees and kindly fuck off, I take the high road. “Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop, how are you?”
I unbutton my jacket as I lower myself to the seat. Elena mutters something that I’m sure wouldn’t impress any of her Sunday school friends, and Richie holds my gaze. “What are you doing here, Cook?”
I hate the way he says my name, like it’s scat or something. I lean back in my chair, resting my hands on my thighs. “Supporting trees.”
Elena’s face turns red as Richie snaps, “I mean at our table.”
“I’m Fable’s plus-one.”
His brows shoot to his receding hairline. “Excuse me? I told you to stay away from my daughter.”
I shrug. “Yeah, I didn’t listen, nor do I have any plans to ever listen to that request. I did it once, it didn’t work out for me, so now I’m here.”
Both of them look like Elmer Fudd when he’d get mad and steam would come out of his ears. I almost laugh, but then a sound makes me look up.