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)
“Thanks. I can take it from here,” I tell him, since this is my job—to man up. Like my dad taught me—success on the field is about talent and effort, but also luck. This is the effort part.
I look at Liam and waste no time. “I’m dating Jillian. I love her. And if that causes a problem with the contract, I’m sorry. Please know I enjoyed working with you. But I love this woman.”
Liam blinks, surprise registering in his eyes. He’s quiet at first, scratching his jaw, swinging his gaze down the field. He takes a breath then turns his attention back to me. He hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “I met your parents.”
“Good to hear,” I say, not sure why he’s mentioning what I already know.
“They’re good people.”
I smile. “They are.”
“Your mom couldn’t stop talking about how worried she was about you, but how she knew you were going to be okay.”
“Yeah?”
Liam nods. “She said she watched the replay over and over. Said it was like a fall you took in high school, but you walked that off, too.”
“Those are the best kinds of falls.”
He’s silent again, and I have the impression he’s the type of man who’s fine with the quiet. Who takes time to process. When he speaks again, his words surprise me. “I see you introduced Jillian to your parents.”
“I did,” I say, then add, “sir,” because he feels like one right now.
He laughs lightly as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “And you invited her to dinner at their home.”
Damn, he has good ears.
“I bet that’s not something you’ve done a lot before.”
I shake my head. “Never.”
He rocks onto the balls of his feet. “Listen, Jones. I appreciate you telling me about Jillian now, before it gets out. It’s always good to know these things. You can never be too careful these days. With the climate we operate in, we’ve both seen how brands and companies have to be sensitive about the slightest things—a wrong comment here, a remark out of context there, something that sounds far too insensitive . . .”
His observation is spot-on, and exactly why I’ve been cautious with Jillian. But it’s his turn to speak, not mine. So I wait.
He heaves a sigh. “But you’re in love with her, and I don’t have the sense you’re going to go carousing down Fillmore Street with a bottle of Jack Daniels before you screw her in an alley, to be frank.”
I jerk my head back, startled by his bluntness. “No, I don’t plan to do that.”
He claps my shoulder. “Just keep doing things the right way. Be good to her, treat your fans well, and keep loving on that pooch of yours. That’s all I can ask for. If you do that, we’ll keep doing business together.”
My muscles relax, and I smile. I was willing to let him go. More than willing if I had to, and maybe that’s the biggest reason he’s keeping me. “Count on it.”
He nods. “I will.” He screws up the corner of his lips, as if he’s thinking. “Also, I’m happy for you. You chose well.”
“Thank you. I think so, too.”
A little while later, I tug Jillian close and whisper in her ear, “Come home with me tonight.”
She arches an eyebrow. “That’s presumptuous of you.”
“I’ll make it worth your while. Presumably.”
And I do. I make it very worth her while indeed.
Three times, in fact, including once with her bent over the bed. Yeah, my knee is just fine. Sometimes, I suppose your luck doesn’t run out after all.
39
JONES
The sizzling rice soup is delicious. The mapo tofu incredible, and the moo shu veggies are some of the tastiest I’ve ever had. And the company is unequivocally the finest—my girlfriend. When I offer her a taste of the moo shu veggies, she opens her mouth and I feed it to her. In public. At a Chinese restaurant her mom and dad took her to growing up. It was a family tradition, and she brought me here to share that tradition with me.
Someone might snap a picture.
Someone might not.
Both options are fine by me.
If anyone did capture our date, they’d have a gallery of images of one of the happiest guys in the city, walking into The Bamboo Garden with his arm wrapped around the woman he works with, one who now happens to be VP of publicity for the San Francisco Renegades. They’d see me hold her hand at the table as we ordered. They’d see her reach across to ruffle my hair when I made her laugh.
“And next month I’m taking you to the Irish Music Fest,” I say.
“Will we do step dancing?”
“We can do whatever you want.”
“I want to try this Irish soda bread you were raving about, and yes, I think I would pay to see you step dance.”