Fangirl Down (Big Shots #1) Read Online Tessa Bailey

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Big Shots Series by Tessa Bailey
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Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
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“Trust me, it is. But . . .” Her throat worked. She paused, coughed, and kept her voice even. Brave? Or was she just trying to avoid getting emotional in front of him because he’d demanded it? Both? “Everything just snowballed so fast, you know. Ironic in Florida.” Why did that joke make him want to splash through the water and . . . hug her? Jesus, he was not a hugger. He wasn’t even a shoulder patter. “I fell behind on rent payments for the shop. At first, it came down to paying for rent or the commercial insurance . . . like, flood insurance? I paid the rent.”

A weight sank in his stomach. The shop wasn’t covered.

“Shit, Josephine.”

“Mega shit.” She closed her eyes, shook her head a little. “Last year, I put my health insurance on pause so the payments wouldn’t be a burden on the shop. Started taking on more golf lessons, so I could just buy my medical supplies out of pocket. But like I said, everything just seemed to snowball and . . .” She trailed off. Took a breath, lifted her chin, and pasted on a determined smile. “I’m going to figure it out, though. I always figure it out.”

He hadn’t deserved to have this girl in his corner for the last five years.

That fact was growing more obvious by the moment.

Someone should have been cheering for her, instead.

“I can give you the money,” Wells said, easing the worst of the pressure in his chest. Okay. Yes. He had the solution. She wouldn’t have to spread out her insulin or be forced to take any other measures to remain healthy. He might not be the number one golfer in the world anymore, but he had tens of millions banked from those earlier, successful days. Might as well give the cash to someone who needed it, before he spent it all on scotch. “I’ll write you a check. Enough to repair the shop and cover your health insurance for a year. Just until you’re back on your feet.”

She stared at him like he’d suggested they take a vacation on Mars. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Silence passed. “Neither do I. So believe me when I say, there isn’t a single chance I’m taking your money. I’m not a charity case. I can take care of myself. And my family.”

“What is this? A pride thing? You’re too stubborn to accept?”

“Are we really pointing out each other’s flaws, because I don’t think you have that kind of time on your hands.”

“I have nothing but time on my hands.”

“Fine! Then your backswing is timid.”

“My—” His neck locked up like a prison cell. “What did you say?”

“I said . . .” She stomped through the water and got right in his face—and damn. It had been a very long time since he’d wanted to take a woman to bed this badly. In fact, maybe he’d never wanted that outcome more in his life. At this exact point in time, it would have been the angry kind of sex that ended with nail marks down his back and her in a stupor, because yeah, she’d just taken a shot at his technique. And she wasn’t done. “You used to swing like you had nothing to lose. It was glorious to watch. Now, you handle the driver like you’re worried the ball might yell at you for hitting it too hard.” She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “You swing like you’re scared.”

No one had spoken to Wells like that. Not since Buck.

Not since those early, early days when he’d picked up the club and felt magic race all the way up into his shoulder and a sense of purpose in his fingertips.

It was like coming up through the surface of the water and taking a deep breath.

Her honesty was oxygen.

But breathing it? That part was terrifying.

“You think you could show me better? I had no idea you were a professional.”

“I might not be a professional—”

“No. Because if you were, you would know that once you lose your stroke, getting it back is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I’ve looked, Josephine. One day, a player has formula and the next, he’s forgotten how to pronounce the ingredients. That’s why these greats go on winning streaks that seem endless, but they always end. Success in golf is finite.”

“Do you really believe that or are you just making excuses to be a quitter?”

“I don’t need this shit.”

“Then leave.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

He didn’t move an inch. The dumbest, most harebrained idea of his life was occurring to him and the more he allowed it to invade his mind, the more oxygen he breathed. Her oxygen. She was an endless supply, standing right in front of him and, Jesus, he couldn’t walk out of there knowing the obstacles she’d have to face by herself. Leaving her to deal with everything alone would haunt him day and night, along with her . . . mouth. God, her mouth. It was the most stubborn and kissable mouth he’d ever seen.


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