Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“If I lived in this city, I would be homicidal.”
“No, you’d just adjust to taking Ubers or the subway.”
“Is that what you do?”
Finally, she found a metered spot that she’d only have to pay for until seven p.m. And tomorrow was Sunday, meaning no meters were in effect. Hallelujah. “Unless I’m going to the stadium, I just walk everywhere,” Madden said.
“I can picture that,” Eve murmured, resting her hand on the back of his seat and maneuvering in reverse into the space, her body all too aware of Madden’s proximity in the small car, those blue eyes tracking down the front of her dress, his palm swiping slowly down the thigh of his sweatpants as if to dry it. “I . . . can picture you out walking by yourself in your overcoat, looking all serious and thoughtful.”
His lips twitched. “It’s too many people for me. I’m usually just trying to finish my errand and get back to my apartment as fast as possible.”
“Not a city person.”
“No.”
Eve turned off the engine. “There’s a chance you could be here for a while. Or be asked to move to an entirely new city at some point.” She set about collecting her things from the car—phone, keys—dropping them into her purse. “You could have a long time left with the league. Over a decade.”
“If I’m lucky.”
“I have it on good authority that Irishmen are pretty lucky.”
Madden’s eyes ran an appreciative lap around her face, that palm drying itself once again on the leg of his sweatpants. “I can’t say I disagree.”
This man’s directness was going to be the death of her. He hadn’t been lying when he said they’d never been good at small talk. They always ended up in the deep end of the conversation within minutes. And Eve preferred the way they communicated, but this . . . spending the night together, being his emergency contact, informing the nurse station at the hospital that she was Madden’s wife, the whole team being aware of his marital status? They’d broken new ground. What happened to her determination not to turn too much soil?
“Let me come around to your side and help you out,” she said, pushing open the driver’s-side door. “You’ve been enough of a hero for one day.”
“Now, love, I don’t want a fuss.”
“You’re getting one.” Eve shut the door before he could protest again, waiting for the oncoming traffic to zip by before circling around to Madden’s side, growling at him when she found the door already open, his feet planted on the sidewalk. “You know, you’re the only person I know who is more stubborn than me.”
“I’m glad you noticed,” he said, gripping the roof of the car with the hand of his good arm, gritting his teeth and hauling himself out before she could help. “I like you knowing I’m going to keep showing up.”
“Like a bad penny,” she quipped, although he was towering over her now, grizzled and messy from his ordeal, so the joke came out sounding kind of breathless.
“No, Eve.” Without looking, he closed the passenger door behind him with a neat little slam. “Like your husband.”
Small talk? I don’t know her.
Eve swallowed the legion of butterflies unleashed by the word husband and turned in a circle, scanning the high-rises blocking the night sky on all sides. “Which one is yours?”
He jerked his chin. “One block that way.”
“Okay.” She locked the car, testing the handle once, then they fell into step beside each other, the pedestrian noise growing louder as they passed a pub, several patrons outside smoking or making calls. The mood was drunk.
“Oh my god,” yelled a guy in a Yankees jersey who promptly threw down his cigarette and stomped it out. “It’s Bad Madden.”
“Shit,” Madden muttered, taking Eve’s arm and steering her past the crowd at a quickening pace. “It stuck.”
A chant of the nickname started in their wake, more and more people spilling out of the bar to watch them advance down the block.
“Give them a little wave,” Eve cajoled, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “It’ll make their night.”
Sighing, Madden turned slightly and nodded at the bar patrons over his shoulder, sending them into an absolute meltdown.
“Was that so hard?”
“I’m never going outside again.”
Eve bit her lip to stifle a laugh. “I guess we’re ordering you takeout tonight.”
Madden guided her beneath a long red awning, muttering a greeting to the doorman as they entered the building. “You’re not hungry?”
“Have you witnessed the stacked buffet in the VIP suite? I’m not going to be hungry until Monday.” Eve nearly sighed out loud over the vintage chandelier that hung in the lobby, the persimmon-colored carpet that stretched from one end to the other. The gold light fixtures. The half-moon checkerboard floor in front of the elevator. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” she murmured, as they stepped into the elevator and the door closed. She watched as Madden tapped the button for the twenty-fourth floor, a little alarmed to find his hand unsteady. “Is your shoulder hurting?”