Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“The one and only Penny Lee, the badass who’s able to trip over her own feet when she’s sitting down, create art from her own hands, and somehow get my asshole bestie to wax poetic.” He shakes his head in disbelief, though he speaks about her in clear admiration. “She’s either a miracle worker or a freak of nature, one or the other for sure.” He weighs the two options in his hands, neither coming out the sole winner.
“She sounds awesome. I’m sorry you had to leave her, your friends, and your team behind.”
“Me too,” he says as the bartender stops in front of us. “Another Coke, please. No sugar this time. You want anything?” he asks me. “Another—” He glances at the cocktail in front of me. Like him, I don’t drink much, so when I get the chance, I do it right, with all the creamy, fruity goodness I can swallow. “Piña colada?”
“No, I’ll take a water with a splash of grenadine, please. Oh, and a lemon.” To Dominic, I explain, “It looks fancy and tastes good, but keeps my head clear.” I give him a narrow-eyed warning, expecting him to scoff at my girly, boring drink, but he nods and mouths smart like he understands.
Like he’s well aware of the effect he has on people . . . on women. Even, and I hate to admit this, me. Because I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed his broad shoulders, scruff-covered jawline, and dark eyes that seem to take in everything around him. I’d also have to pretend that my heart hasn’t been pitter-pattering in my chest and my dust-bunny-covered center hasn’t been suddenly awakened from a too-long slumber by the smell of his cologne.
The bartender sets our drinks in front of us in seconds and disappears. “What brings you to . . . here?” Dominic asks, waving a hand vaguely. He doesn’t mean the bar, but this town, this area, this . . . here.
“My ex,” I answer as I take a sip of my drink. Poke, poke, poke.
He doesn’t flinch, not a single muscle tightens in his face or body. Huh, weird. One thing guys don’t like to hear about is the ones who came before them. Not that Dominic is coming anywhere near me, but it’s true in general. Or at least that’s my experience.
“He got a job, so we moved. Bonus that my dad was here.” It was not a bonus at all. At that point, I wasn’t even talking to my dad, who divorced my mom when I was seven and only occasionally came around after that. But when I’d finally worked up the courage to leave Tyler, Dad was the only resource I had here. Swallowing the last dregs of my dignity and asking him for help had taken all I’d had. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Harley, I wouldn’t have bothered. I would’ve been fine eventually, but I would never let my son pay the price for my pride.
“Did the job not work out? Or the guy? Or both?” He’s matter-of-fact about it, like he’s just making conversation, or at most, mildly curious.
“All of the above,” I answer. “Turns out the job was only a thing until he got caught screwing a secretary in the office.”
He hisses. “Shiiiit.”
“By his boss, who was married to the secretary.”
Dominic’s eyes go wide and he mutters, “The fuck?”
I laugh, the sense of betrayal long ago burned to ash. “Yeah, that was when I found out he’d run up our credit cards and was four months behind on the mortgage. It was a really great time in my life.”
“You seem to be doing alright now,” he says, giving me a look of pride.
“Oh yeah,” I say, nodding, “single mother, working a job I love but that barely pays the bills, living in a house with questionable electricity that makes my son truly believe I’m magic because I can flip a breaker when it pops, and whose exciting night out consists of free drinks and food because my dad lets me crash team events gratis. I’m expecting the Person of the Year award ceremony in my honor to happen any day. They should be showing up with the cameras right about now.” I glance around, knowing I sound silly, but what else am I supposed to do? Wallow in misery over the rough years I made it through and never appreciate the amazing life I do have?
“Look out, here they come.” Dominic points past me and I have to fight the urge to turn around and peek. There’s no Time magazine crew entering the bar, I know that. But the teasing grin lifting his lips makes me want to play along.
“How’s my hair?” I ask instead.
His eyes trace over my blond hair, which I took extra time to both blow dry and curl tonight in honor of going out, even if it was to Dad’s team thing. “Gorgeous.”