Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Nice place,” I say, tapping the top of the pirate goose’s head as I follow Gray inside.
“Thanks. Astrid is having her way with it. I’ve been trying to get her to let me add on a little bit, but she’s refusing. It’ll fuck up the charm, she says.” He shrugs. “As long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”
“Spoken like a man who’s as whipped as they come.”
He laughs. “Fuck you.”
I laugh, too, taking a seat across from him at a small kitchen table. “How have you been?”
“Good. Just decompressing and trying to find a new normal. It’s weird not having to count my macros every damn meal.”
“That’s one part of retirement that I haven’t considered.” I lean back in my chair and yawn. “Have you seen Drake lately? I was hoping to run into him while I’m here.”
He stretches his arms overhead and groans. “Yeah. He was here last week. I think Gianna might be staying with Audrey. Something tells me that Drake had to visit his parents or something, but I could be making that up.” He rests his forearms on the table. “Do you know Brooks Dempsey by any chance? Used to be an MMA fighter, if the name is ringing a bell.”
“I don’t think so.”
“He’s marrying Audrey in a few weeks.” He pauses. “Do you know who she is?”
“Nope.”
He sighs. “Astrid has a cool friend group, and somehow, they’ve all wound up here in Sugar Creek. There’s Gianna, who is with Drake, who you already know. And then there’s Audrey, who’s marrying Brooks.” He taps a finger against the table. “The girls have more or less gathered Hartley’s wife, Mira, and her sister, Markie, and added them into their circle.”
I fight a smile. But when you’ve played ball with a guy, you learn to read them like a book. And Gray sees right through my attempt at hiding my amusement.
He lifts a brow, fighting a grin of his own.
“Yeah, I met Markie,” I say, licking my bottom lip. “A couple of times.”
“Really? You met her as in someone introduced you in line at the grocery store, or you met her like you met that girl when we were playing in Detroit?”
I snort. That was a wild night. “Neither, really. But we’ve chatted a couple of times, and I’ve known her brother since college.”
“That guy is an asshole.”
Gray’s not completely wrong. Miles can be a bit self-absorbed, and there are times when I wonder if he can see beyond himself at all. Even Markie seems to agree with the sentiment.
“I can see how you could come to that conclusion.” I laugh. “But, yeah, I know Markie a little bit.”
“She’s … entertaining.” His lips twist. “I halfway expect Astrid to call me from the police station when they all go out together.”
“I mean, she could put some handcuffs on me, and I wouldn’t complain.”
Gray grins. “I bet you wouldn’t.”
His phone rings, and he excuses himself to answer it, but I don’t mind. My thoughts are considering where I can get some handcuffs … just in case.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Markie
“Oh, dammit,” I groan, rolling over in bed and grabbing my phone from the nightstand.
It’s been three days since I met Adam and invited him to play in the tournament with me. And each day, I’ve had to force myself not to reach out to him and make sure he’s taking this seriously. But the tightness in my chest tonight is a little too tight to fall asleep. The only thing that might help is knowing that Adam has been doing some cardio on his lunch breaks.
And hopefully, after work.
I wouldn’t mind if he did some sprints before work, too.
My fingers fly over the letters. But before I hit send, I check the time.
“Nine thirty isn’t too late,” I mutter and shoot the message through the interwebs.
Me: Hey, just checking in.
It only takes a minute to get his response.
Adam: Hey. On my way home from work. Overtime is killing me this week.
“Not the info I’m after,” I say, biting my lip and typing out my reply.
Me: That sucks. Have you managed to get any work in for the tournament?
I study the message for a few moments before I fire it off. Is it the kindest message I’ve ever sent? No. But he knew what he was getting into before he agreed to be my teammate. If he’s offended, that’s on him.
Adam: Do you really think I’d agree to be your teammate and then embarrass myself by not keeping up with you?
The tension in my shoulders melts away. “Thank God.”
I flop back against the pillows and breathe a sigh of relief.
Am I always a little too obsessed with this tournament? Probably. But is it something I can fix this year? No, it’s not.
I squish my eyes shut and try to ward off the tightness in my chest.