Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Smack.
I run straight into another body, one that smells faintly of something I can’t put my finger on, something…exotic and dark.
All I catch in that brief moment is that he’s tall, maybe six-four, with a chest of steel. My coffee sails through the air and lands upside down in the landscaping that lines the walk. I curse. I hadn’t even taken a good long sip yet because it was too hot.
Then, just when I think I’ve managed to keep my donut safe, my feet get tangled and I stumble again into the blond Viking, pressing my donut into his broad chest.
“Dammit,” is the gruff word that comes out of him as his hands reach out to my shoulders. His touch is firm and steadying without overpowering me, as if he’s completely aware of his strength and I’m merely a wisp in his grasp—well, maybe not a wisp. I’m five-ten, and I can hold my own around a big guy.
“Could you watch where you’re going, please?” he says, a flare of annoyance in his tone.
“You’re the one who plowed into me,” I snap back. This is not true, but I’m angry.
I lift my head and meet piercing blue eyes that make me go hot all over. Clear and warm, they have a hint of gray around the iris, giving them a steely look. He blinks as he takes me in, raking his eyes over my messy bun, bulky coat, and leggings. I am not dressed to impress, my face bare of makeup save for quick swipes of lip gloss and mascara, my eyebrows in serious need of waxing. I tuck a strand of pale blonde hair that has fallen out of my bun behind my ear, groaning inwardly. Leave it to me to not only see my ex but run into the unattainable and enigmatic Maverick Monroe immediately after.
My first memory of him is freshman year at the fall bonfire party. He showed up with twins, one on each arm, but somehow he ended up kissing me, claiming some legend about the person you kiss at your first bonfire at Waylon being the one person you never forget.
Yeah right.
He had forgotten about me—obviously—and I’d moved on and met Alex, who at the time was sweet and kind, not the cheating asshole he is now.
In the background, I hear Alex’s voice from behind me, calling my name, but the warrior in front of me has all my attention. Maverick is the one football player our team couldn’t live without. All hard muscle and strength, our defense is legendary in the Southeastern Conference, and it’s largely because of him, the hottest jock ever who thinks he’s the best thing since hairless cats. Maybe he is. I wouldn’t know because I don’t really know him. Sure, I know he has washboard abs and shoulders that make you bite your lip, but I don’t know a thing about his personal life.
I’m not his type.
Sadly, he is my type, right down to his tight jeans, Converse, and tight black shirt that accentuates every indentation in his chest. Why isn’t he wearing a coat in February? Probably too tough.
“You okay?” he asks, his gaze drifting over me.
I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
“I suppose you’re on your way to class.” He checks his watch. “Which starts in five minutes. Looks like we’re both going to be late. At least you didn’t get any coffee on you.” He smiles, a flash of white teeth peeking through full, pouty lips.
I tell my eyes to stop looking at him—because football guys can’t be trusted, dammit—but there are three things my brain can’t help but notice: Mexican food, Star Wars, and a tightly muscled athlete…and donuts. So, four.
I nod. “Yeah, you sit with your fan girls in the middle of the auditorium. I sit in the back.” I sigh as he plucks the donut off his chest. “Sorry for bumping into you. I was in a hurry to get there, I guess.”
“No worries. It gives us a chance to talk.”
What? Why does he want to talk to me?
“About what?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer me.
Instead, he stares down at the pink and purple sprinkles and edible glitter that dot his shirt. “That’s a lot of sugar on my shirt. That can’t be good for you.”
“I…sorry. The sprinkles are a weakness, and I can’t resist getting them. I always say I’m not going to because they have to be at least another fifty calories, but in the end, they’re just so pretty.” I point to the squashed donut. “That particular one is called the Unicorn because it has every kind of sprinkle in the entire bakery on it.” I make the sign of the cross. “Rest in peace, sweet donut.”
I continue babbling about the different flavors of donuts as I hurriedly wipe at his shirt with my hands, flinging bits of dough to the sidewalk while secretly calculating if I have enough time to dash back in to grab another one.