Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
At least, until I met Daisy.
He stops in front of a red Ferrari. “Oh,” he breathes. “Look at her.”
I squint. “You’re talking about the car, right?”
“She’s aggressive,” he continues reverently. “She’s fast. No question this one understands me.”
“She understands debt,” I mutter.
Tanner opens the driver’s-side door and tries to slide in but immediately encounters a problem.
He lowers his six-foot-four frame halfway into the seat and gets stuck—one knee jammed too high, the steering wheel uncomfortably close to his chest. The car emits an annoyed electronic beep.
Tanner exhales. “Why is it so… tight?”
I cross my arms. “Because you’re built like a fridge.”
“That’s not my fault,” he snaps. “That’s genetics and pasta.”
He tries to adjust the seat, wiggles his body. It beeps again. “I don’t like the tone of this car,” he mutters.
Tanner attempts to extricate himself and bangs his head on the doorframe.
“You don’t fit, genius,” I say blandly.
He straightens, offended. “I fit emotionally. Therein lies the difference.”
A salesman finally approaches, polished and hopeful, eyes darting between us. He looks at me, pauses, then does a double take.
“Grizz McAvoy?”
I nod and his smile brightens instantly. “Huge fan. Incredible season so far.”
Tanner steps closer. “He’s also an incredible friend. Loyal. Supportive. Willing to cosign on a loan.”
The salesman’s eyes go wider, taking Tanner in. “Wow… I’m a huge fan of yours too, Tanner.”
“I will absolutely not cosign,” I cut in, to make sure that’s on the record.
The salesman laughs politely. “What brings you star Vipers in today?”
Tanner gestures at the Ferrari. “Destiny, but alas, it’s not a good fit.”
“I’m sure we have a fit for your…” The salesman pauses, gestures to Tanner’s frame. “Dimensions.”
We move on mostly because Tanner physically cannot get back into that car without assistance—and stop in front of a matte black Lamborghini.
Tanner’s entire demeanor changes. He circles it slowly, running a hand along the hood.
“This,” he says quietly, “would change my life.”
“It would ruin it,” I reply. “Financially.”
He ignores me and turns to the salesman. “What’s the damage?”
The salesman’s eyes shine with the promise of an easy commission. “Sir… that is the brand-new Temerario. Mid-engine, all-wheel drive, twin-turbo V8 with a three-motor hybrid system. Just over nine hundred horsepower, zero to sixty in under two and a half seconds. Redlines close to ten thousand. It’s the fastest thing Lamborghini’s ever put in this class. Base price starts at three fifty before customization.”
Tanner blinks.
“Jesus fuck,” I mutter.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “That’s… more than I thought.”
I snort. “You think?”
“But,” Tanner continues, rallying, “money is fake. And happiness is priceless.”
The salesman senses he’s going to lose the sale and looks at me for help.
“He’s emotionally attached,” I say flatly. “But even big emotions have price tag limitations.”
Tanner presses his forehead briefly against the window. “I will never own you,” he whispers to the car. “But I will think about you often.”
I hit him on the shoulder. “You’ll survive.”
He sighs deeply, dramatic to the end. “Some losses stay with you forever.”
“I’m sure we could find a fit more within your budget,” the salesman says, trying to rally.
I hold up a hand, deciding Tanner doesn’t need anyone egging him on. “How about we look around and we’ll call you over if we find something he’s interested in?”
The man’s expression crumbles but he nods. “Of course. I’ll just be over there.”
We walk a few steps toward another set of cars. “So,” Tanner says, hands shoved in his pockets. “Daisy—how’s she doing?”
My spine locks. I don’t look at him but give a noncommittal grunt. Very convincing, I’m sure. “She’s… fine.”
Tanner hums. The sound of a man filing that away for later destruction. “Uh-huh… now you wanna go silent and do the aww shucks routine, eh?”
The silence stretches and we walk another few steps.
I clear my throat. “She’s my PR rep.”
“Sure she is.”
“It’s just a fling,” I add, because apparently, I enjoy lying badly.
Tanner stops walking and turns fully toward me with an expression I don’t like. It borders on having me figured out. “My man,” he says slowly, “you’re dating.”
I scoff. “No, I’m not.”
“What you have,” he continues, undeterred, “is dating energy. Hell, practically married energy.”
I finally look at him. “Christ, Tanner. We are not married. Not even close.”
“I didn’t say you were married,” Tanner says. “I said you’re giving off married energy.”
“That’s insane,” I sputter, outraged he’d even think such a thing, but inside I have to admit… that level of commitment isn’t as off-putting as I once thought. What would a full life with Daisy look like?
“It’s observant,” he says, bending down to check out the interior of a Maserati.
I shake my head. “It’s a casual lay, Tanner. Nothing more.”
Tanner laughs so loudly the salesman who was helping us visibly jumps and looks around startled.
“Casual, my ass,” Tanner says, wiping at his eyes.
I open my mouth to argue but nothing comes out. Because… yeah, this isn’t casual at all.