Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Blue doesn’t waste words. Never has. So, when he does offer his pithy brand of support, it always seems to land. The guy spent years working through his own demons—a weird-as-hell childhood he hardly ever talks about, but that you can clock in the way he’s calm in the middle of chaos—and came out the other side with a Zen that makes him nearly impossible to rattle on the ice.
If he thinks I’ve got this, maybe I do.
I pull out my phone again, responding quickly to Parker’s text—All good here, man, and yeah, I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it. See you tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I’m going to see her tomorrow.
The woman who’s been starring in all my dirtiest dreams. The one who tastes like strawberries, wine, and endless summer nights. The one with a body that doesn’t quit and a mind as sharp as any student I studied with at Boston U.
The one who made it crystal clear she wants nothing to do with me…
I shove my phone back in my pocket and scrub my hands over my face.
It is what it is.
Tomorrow, I’ll go to the party and be polite. Cordial. I’ll give Charlotte a respectful berth, drink exactly two beers, let it be, and leave early.
Easy.
Except nothing about Charlotte is easy, and I already know there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to be anywhere near her and not feel the pull.
One beer, then.
One and done and on my way, dignity intact.
Deciding to change when I get home, I stand, grabbing my gear from my stall.
Around me, the locker room is emptying, guys heading home to their families, their girlfriends, their Friday night plans. But my parents still live in Tennessee, my best guy friends are in Detroit—where I played for six years—my little sister is on tour with her piece of shit boyfriend and their band, and I’ve already proven I can’t be trusted to “behave myself.”
Which means I’ve got nothing waiting for me except an empty apartment and the knowledge that tomorrow night, I have to face the one woman who has the power to destroy all my hard-earned perspective.
I head for the exit, the late afternoon sun slanting through the facility’s windows. Outside, the New Orleans heat wraps me up tight, leaving no inch of skin unwarmed, even now, on the edge of October.
When I was first traded to the Voodoo last year, I hated the heat, but now…
I’ve come to like it nearly as much as I like my new team, my new friends, and the penthouse apartment I never could have swung if I’d been traded to Los Angeles the way I originally hoped to be. I love this city. I don’t want to leave.
But my career hangs by a thread, my reputation’s one dent away from being too roughed up to salvage, and I can’t stop thinking about the one who got away.
Maybe Blue was wrong.
Maybe I don’t “got this.”
Or much of anything else…
Two
Charlotte Delaney
Isign my name across the bottom of the contract with a flourish that feels pretty damned good, if I do say so myself.
After weeks of client wooing, the Crescent City Film Festival after-party is locked and loaded. Twelve hundred guests, an open bar with signature cocktails, a seven-course tasting menu, and a planning fee that will cover my mortgage for the next four months.
After the summer from hell, things are finally looking up.
For me, and my favorite city.
I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking softly, feeling grateful.
Outside my second-story home office window, my staff is busy prepping for Parker and Makena’s engagement party. The air is filled with the cheerful clink of champagne flutes being arranged on tables, snippets of live music as the band tests the sound system, and Molly’s bright laughter as she directs the food truck into position.
The weather gods have blessed us with a high of seventy-eight with no chance of rain, the decorations are perfection, and the photo booth, lawn game station, and couple-themed trivia challenges should keep the fun flowing. So far, the setup is going off without a hitch, every piece falling seamlessly into place.
This is clearly an event planned by a woman who has her shit together.
I do have my shit together.
Finally.
After years of prioritizing the wrong things—and people—my life is smooth, happy, peaceful, and filled with folks who treat me well and never take my friendship or generosity for granted.
Life is good.
And then, as if warning me not to drop my guard just yet, my phone buzzes on the desk beside me, bringing tidings from the world beyond…
It’s Dara, a lovely woman who happens to be married to my very unlovely ex-boyfriend’s college roommate, Vick. I would have called us friends back in the day, before Teddy and I ended our on-again-off-again relationship, but I haven’t heard from her much in the past year.