Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“This isn’t fun—”
“No joke.” Her eye roll is so big that her head accompanies it.
“I’ll make you a deal so that we can get this encounter, or whatever we’re calling it, wrapped up and go our separate ways.”
A grin crosses her face, the kind a villain in a Disney movie would wear. All bark, no bite. “I cannot wait to hear this.”
“If I give you an autograph, will you stop harassing me?”
Her balk could probably be heard in Austin, it’s so loud. I rub my ear, worried about my drum bursting. But then she levels a glare on me, giving me the first full view of her entirety—orange fire flickering in green eyes contrasts with the delicate features of her face, her lips pursing but then pillowing again as if they’re ripe for the kissing. But it’s her eyes that transport me back to Costa Rica and the girl I left in a hotel room on Jaco Beach. Four long years couldn’t erase the memory. How could it? It was one of the best nights of my life.
Frivolous fun and great sex. Kissing her was like kissing the sun. I knew I’d get burned if I stayed too long. But we were raw attraction, the night sultry with possibilities, and so fucking sexy while it lasted.
We shouldn’t have been a one-off.
I should have stayed, and my gut twisted when I walked away.
I should have asked for her number.
Hell, or at least gotten her name.
But here she is in the flesh again, the woman I never imagined I’d see again. Of course, I didn’t expect her to show up as a stalker either, so there is that aspect to deal with. Oh shit. Did she track me down?
Maybe she never asked me my name because she already knew it. The thought is a bit unsettling. I had built an entirely different story about what happened to her after I left, but this new information changes things.
She smirks, which puts me more on edge than I already was. “You got yourself a deal.” Bending down, she pulls an envelope from the large bag she left on the ground at her feet and then digs through the mess until she retrieves something silver and shiny. Is she going to pull a knife on me, force me into her vehicle at gunpoint, and coerce me to perform lascivious acts on her? If only . . .
I take a step back before realizing it’s a pen. Okay, maybe I need to slow my roll with the stalker thing. Although she’s a bit mouthy and has a Mount Everest-sized attitude, which I fully respect as someone else who falls in that category, I’m starting to think she’s harmless. I’ve slept with the woman, and she didn’t kill me then, so I’m not sure why she’d want to after all these years.
I scratch the back of my neck, unsure what to make of her. I’ve had nothing but fond memories of our time together, but seeing her under these circumstances is confusing. More so, does she not even recognize me? What the fuck?
Did I just waste years thinking about her when I wasn’t even worth a second thought in her mind?
When she stands back up without an ounce of the irritation that burned hot inside her previously, she hands me the silver pen, then pulls papers from a large envelope. Tapping two different spots on what oddly looks to be a contract, she directs, “Sign here. And then here.”
Guess I wasn’t worth it since she’s moving on like that night never existed.
What-the fuck-ever.
My gaze bounces around the document to catch words like donation and contribute but also, no legal standing, and not an offer of employment. “What is this?” I ask as my eyes dart to the top to find the title.
“It’s the contract saying that any monies earned, raised, or acquired by participating in the game on Thursday is one hundred percent donated to the cause.” Tilting her head as if she’s really done something there, she laughs. “It’s to make sure you don’t go back on your promise and undercut our support for the high school teams.”
I look at her again. The girl I remember, who was sexy and sweet, flirtatious and self-assured in everything she wanted, isn’t the one standing before me now. This woman is smug and has the patience of a ticking time bomb. Her hair is darker, which I’m not mad about. It makes those eyes of hers even more captivating than they already were. But I’m still confused about why she’s here, having me sign a business contract instead of an autograph. When she clears her throat and checks her watch like I’m keeping her from somewhere more important, I realize maybe her self-confidence still tracks. I ask, “But why are you having me sign this?”