Only One Kiss Read online Natasha Madison (Only One #1)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Only One Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
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“Um, yeah,” I say and then look down. “I think I need to hire someone to help me out.”

He takes his beer and brings it to his mouth, taking a pull. “What were you thinking?”

“I was talking to Becca,” I start telling him. “I have a couple of sponsors I’d like to get with, but I need to get a better handle on my social media. Someone to help me with my social media platform,” I say, hoping to fuck he doesn’t mention Candace.

He stops and looks around the backyard. “Have you met Candace? She is the best there is out there, and if she would, I would hire her to do the team’s social media along with every single player.”

“Yeah,” I say to him as Ari whines now, no doubt pissed that no one is playing with her. “I heard about her.”

“I can ask around,” Nico says. “But if you can pull strings, I would get Candace. She is hands on and”—he looks around—“she knows her shit.”

“Good to know,” I say, and then Ari starts to whine. “I think I’m going to head out and get her home,” I say, bouncing her up and down. Nico looks at Ari, then back at me.

“Why don’t I call you tomorrow, and we can talk about things a bit?” he says, and I nod at him.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” I say, and grab my stuff and say bye to everyone. I put Ari into the seat and then clip her in the car. She fusses, but I stick the pacifier in her mouth and she looks at me as she kicks her hands and her feet.

She looks exactly like Cassie when she gets mad, not that I was around much when she used to get mad. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure Cassie and I were going to be forever. We just clashed way too much, and when she told me she was pregnant, it threw me since she was on the pill. I never questioned her, never doubted her, but I would sometimes sit and wonder if she did it on purpose because I was pulling away from her. It’s not that I didn’t love her—I did—but she and I were together on and off for more than six years, and it was just the same cycle over and over again. But once she got pregnant, it got a bit better.

I swallow down the lump in my throat that comes to me every single time I think of the words I never said to her. Ari decides it’s not the time to just chill until we get home, and she wails the whole time. I try talking to her and telling her we’re almost home, but she doesn’t give a shit.

When I finally pull into the driveway, she is having a full-blown crying fit. I open the back door to see her face red and stained with tears. The big headband had slipped down on her face, so I move it up, expecting her to stop crying, but she doesn’t. When I pick her up, she cries even harder than she was.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” I say softly, grabbing her bag and making my way inside. Dumping the bag on the counter, I head to make her a bottle. Maybe she’s hungry again, so I start the bottle while bouncing her, and nothing stops her from crying. I walk into her room, undressing her, and change her diaper. She kicks her feet harder than before.

“Baby girl,” I say, and she just screams. When I get back into the kitchen, I grab the bottle and my iPad and walk over to the couch. Placing her on her side of my chest, I give her the bottle. She takes the bottle for a couple of seconds and then wails as she chokes on her milk. I put the bottle down and grab a rag to wipe her chin.

“Hey,” I say softly, holding her head in one hand as I move her softly side to side. “What is going on?” I say, and she blinks now as her chest trembles from the cries she just did. “There she is,” I say to her and she blinks now looking at me. “Do you want your bottle?” I ask. Picking up her bottle, I then put it next to her lips, but she turns her head, arching her back. “Okay, so no to the bottle,” I say. I get up and walk around with her in my arms as she settles down and her crying stops. “There is my girl,” I say, and she smiles. “The attitude,” I say as my phone beeps in my pocket. I walk over to the bag, grabbing the Babybjorn one. I slip her into it, facing out, and decide to go walk on the treadmill with her. I grab the iPad, putting it onto Baby Einstein as I start walking slowing as her feet kick my legs as I walk.


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