Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Go, go,” she says, shooing him off.
“Thank you so much for making time for me, and you know I will see you whenever you are in town,” he says. “You just call me, and I’ll come running.”
She has a boyfriend in Miami? What the hell?
Red. I see red. It billows from my eyes, and I shut them for a moment and think of Cletus. As I picture his too-adorable Chihuahua face and how he likes to give me slobbery lap-dog kisses, the jealousy fades momentarily.
I open my eyes as that movie star lookalike waves goodbye, then blows her a kiss.
When he leaves, she hooks a towel around her waist, her gaze wandering around the pool then skidding to a halt when she gets to me. She jerks her head back, like she’s surprised to see me, and maybe a little bit guilty, too?
I close the distance between us. “Hey.”
Her voice is cool and even as she twists her hair into a slick ponytail. “Hi, Jones. How was your night?”
She says my name with distance, as if she’s pushing it away from her, pushing me away. Maybe I deserve it for turning down her dinner invite.
“It was good,” I say tightly. “How was yours?”
“Great.” She flashes me a smile and keeps her shoulders squared, her eyes fixed firmly on my face. They don’t stray at all, as if she’s practicing perfect posture.
“You had fun with that guy?” The words come out like acid on my tongue.
Her brow pinches. “Andre and I always have fun.”
Deep breath. Cletus kisses. He’s wagging his tail.
The jealousy subsides again. “That’s. So. Great.” Each word comes out robotically.
She glances down at her towel, then points her thumb in the direction of the hotel. “I’m all wet, so I should probably go change.”
She’s doing her posture exercises again, and it irks me for some reason. “Why do you do that?” I blurt out.
“Do what?”
“You stare straight at my face when you talk.”
She narrows her eyes. “Where am I supposed to look?”
“Anywhere.”
“Should I talk to your belly button? Maybe your elbow? Or would you prefer if I addressed your feet?”
“No, obviously I’m not saying you should talk to my feet.” I cross my arms. “I just don’t get why you do that.”
“I’m trying to be polite. Professional. Because we work together. That’s why I look you in the eyes. And speaking of work, it’s getting late, and we have another shoot in the morning, not to mention a few interviews about the new deal. I should go upstairs and do some planning. I’m glad you had fun with the guys.”
I shake my head quickly, correcting her. “I didn’t say I had fun with them.”
“Sorry.” She adjusts her ponytail again, raising her chin, talking in that modulated, publicist voice. “Did you have fun?”
I swallow. “Yes and no.”
“Yes and no?”
I’m dangerously close to admitting I want her. The words tango on the end of my tongue. I want you. I need you. I can’t stand how much I think of you.
In this moment, I crave her more than a sponsorship deal, and I want her to know the reason I had a shitty time tonight is that she was out with some guy. But I trip on the words, and they fall out of my mouth like blocks tumbling. “I thought you were seeing someone. Like a boyfriend. That guy.”
She’s silent at first, then a sly smile spreads on her face, wider and wider still, until it turns into a belly laugh. “Andre and I bat for the same team.”
All my jealousy drains in an instant. I try to cover up my glaring misread with a forced and sheepish chuckle. “Well, that’s good to know.”
I push out another laugh so she knows I’m not the jealous ass I was seconds ago. But my laughter ceases when she speaks again.
“We were admiring the same scenery tonight.” She wriggles her eyebrows, and that’s it. Evidently, I’m still the jealous ass, because I hate the thought of her admiring any scenery belonging to another man.
I’m this close to spilling my guts, but a scan right, a scan left, and a pool full of people swimming and lounging is the reminder I need to zip my lips.
She is controlling what these people think of me. She is helping me keep the sponsorship deals my agent lines up—deals that fund my parents’ retirement. My dad doesn’t have to drive a truck. My mom doesn’t have to work extra shifts. His dad moved to America from Ireland years ago to pursue the American dream, so to speak. It’s my job, and my fucking pleasure, to keep that dream alive for my parents now.
“I need to go for a walk.”
I turn around and leave. If I stay near her, I’ll try to kiss her in public. I’ll haul her over my shoulder and carry her to my room, tell her I can’t take this wanting anymore. It’s miserable craving a person this much and not having her.