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)
“You better stop that,” I say, forcing a chuckle that’s filled with the sexual frustration bubbling inside me.
“Stop what?” she asks as if she doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.
“You know what.”
She grins playfully. “You’re right. My apologies.” She opens the door to her car. “I’ll see ya around.”
“I’ll see ya around,” I reply as she pauses to look at me. “Dinner is usually around seven …”
She laughs as she gets into the driver’s seat. “Good night, Jory.”
“Night, Markie.”
I step back as she pulls away from the curb and watch until she’s out of sight.
My shoulders sink as I blow out a breath, attempting to settle the energy rioting in my body. This woman throws me for a loop. Every time I see her, she adds another layer to the mix. She’s not just beautiful or interesting. She’s smart. Hardworking. Kind.
Is she really this exciting, or has it been too long since I’ve gotten laid?
“Probably both,” I say, turning around and heading inside.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Markie
“It’s a beautiful day,” I sing, turning onto Park Road.
My fingertips tap against the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio. The sun is bright, nearly blinding me, but I don’t care. I flip my visor down with gusto and a smile.
I’ve waited for this day for weeks—really, since the end of the championship match last year.
Nothing gets me as hyped as the Sugar Days tournament. It’s a tradition that I remember my mother getting so excited about when I was a child. The festival felt like magic, like a few days of fair food and Skee-Ball and staying up past my bedtime. And now, every year when the carnival begins to filter into town, I feel the excitement in the air. For a few days, everything feels the way it’s supposed to be.
Almost like my mother’s smiling down on me.
I chuckle. She’d definitely have something to say about my competitive streak.
As expected, a few people are already on the courts. I pull up next to a red car and put it in park. I have a few minutes before Adam arrives, so I take out my phone.
Me: What are you doing today?
Nettie’s reply comes immediately.
Nettie: I just woke up. It felt good to sleep in. What about you?
Me: Practicing with Adam in a few. Wanna hang out tonight? I miss you.
Nettie: YES. I was going to call you later after I woke up and had coffee. I have nothing going on all day, and it’s divine. What are you thinking? Night in with a movie or night out with a martini?
Me: Martini. Patsy’s around nine?
Nettie: I’ll see you then.
Me: xoxoxoxo
I look up … and right into the eyes of Jasper. He’s staring through the windshield at me as if he’s not surprised to see me, but the fake smile he flashes my way before he turns to the court tells me everything I need to know.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
My body tenses as he gets situated across from a pretty blonde about my height. She drops the ball and hits it across the court into the opposite service box with genuine skill, showing she’s done this a million times. Like they’ve done this a million times.
Jasper and Courtney rally, effortlessly volleying the ball back across the net. Courtney handles the change in pace that Jasper throws at her—that I fucking helped him perfect, the son of a bitch—and seems to be more of a pickler than a banger. Since Jasper’s preference is to bang, this could be a problem for their opponents.
Fuck. It’s not a death knell by any means, but it does mean that I have to bring my A game. It’ll take it to beat them.
I blow out a breath when my phone buzzes, thankful for a reason to look away from my adversaries. Adam’s name is on the screen.
“Hey,” I say, pressing the speakerphone button. “Get your butt down here. We have an audience, and I want to show off. Get into our opponent’s head.” I smile menacingly. “Give them something to think about.”
There’s a pause just long enough to make my heart skip a beat.
“About that …” Adam sighs. “I don’t know how to say this, and I’ve tried practicing it a million times over the past twenty-four hours.”
I sit taller, blood pooling in my eardrums. “Unless it’s a new strategy that you want to try, I don’t care to hear it.”
“Markie, I’m sorry.”
Sorry? What? No.
My stomach drops, twisting into the tightest knot that I’ve ever experienced.
“I realize what an opportunity it is to play with you,” he says. “Trust me when I know what I’m about to say is crazy.”
“Then don’t say it.”
He chuckles nervously. “I wish I didn’t have to.” He takes a breath. “My girlfriend asked me to go with her to meet her family in Washington, and I agreed. This was last month. I guess I just got excited by the chance to play with you and didn’t check the date. But it’s literally the same weekend, and she’s already purchased the tickets and made arrangements.”