Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“You’re late,” I said.
Jade pushed up, checking her watch. “It’s only five past, and—”
“Doesn’t matter if it was one minute past.” I hated that I sounded like a dick; hated even more that the real reason for my sour mood was Brent-Lays-Down-Good-Dick-Cheating-Asshole Baker.
Her eyes narrowed. “My car wouldn’t start.”
She’d seen me in that same bar. She could have called me, but instead, she had chosen to take a ride from him. The thought of that asshole waltzing up to her car, all smiles, ready to save the fucking day, had my jaw ticcing.
“I don’t give a shit. I let you out of that auction. The least you could do is be on time.” And not be with him.
The pantry door clicked shut. “Who pissed in your Cornflakes?” Cassie said, but my attention was still on Jade in that damn dress.
My glare cut to the blonde devil. There was a small part of me that blamed her for all of this. The drugs…having Jade in my house. Did I care that they were late? No. What I cared about was the uncontrollable jealousy buzzing through my veins like an angry hit of heroin. I’d lost control of everything: my grades, my life, and now my own emotions.
My attention flicked back to Jade’s accusing gaze. “You want to screw around with that piece of shit? Fine.” I turned toward the dining room. “But don’t bring him around my house again.”
“So, that’s what this is about.” Her voice followed me, as did her footfalls.
I hated that it was that obvious.
“I’m not screwing around with him. Maybe you can’t get a ride off someone without fucking them, but I definitely can.”
I passed the dining table, ignoring her comment about me fucking anyone. “Walk back next time for all I care.”
“Then we’d have been an hour late! Which is it, Wolf? You want us on time? Or you just want to make my life difficult?”
I spun around, and Jade froze a few feet behind me. “What the hell were you doing at that bar, anyway?”
“What? We aren’t allowed to go for a drink now?”
Going for a drink at one of the roughest bars in Pikestown? Bullshit. “You expect me to believe you went to The Platinum Club for a drink?”
Her gaze dropped to Dog as he trotted past, and she shrugged. “It’s just a bar…”
And she was just my ex. I needed to let it go.
As luck would have it, the next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot behind the practice field, Fuckface Brent’s “new ride” was parked right beside my usual spot.
I got out of my truck and kicked the bumper on my way past his rusted piece of crap. It creaked before clattering to the asphalt. Maybe I would pull a Jade and torch that shit.
That thought put a little pep in my fucking step. Seriously, I was going to set that shit on fire.
The door to the locker room cracked against the wall, banter and the bang of lockers filling the space. I dropped my duffel bag onto the changing bench.
“Heard there will be scouts at this weekend’s game,” Williams said, tugging his jersey over his head. “You nervous, Brookes?”
“Nah…” That was a lie. I changed into my practice uniform, stressing about the possibility.
Sure, I had 4.45 forty, twenty-one touchdowns last season, and led the conference in yards after contact. But knowing scouts would be there would put nerves in anyone’s gut, and nerves could screw things up. Back in high school, the only reason I fumbled the ball—not once, but twice—at the state championship was because I knew university scouts were in the stands. Getting scholarship offers had been life-changing, but nowhere close to as life-changing as being drafted by the NFL would be. A scholarship led to a degree. A draft led to money my poor ass couldn’t even fathom.
“Hey, Brookes!” Brent’s voice rose above the clang of lockers.
A sick excitement stirred in my gut when I turned and saw Brent shouldering through the other guys toward me, his chest all puffed out. If that idiot wanted a fight, I would be more than happy to oblige.
“I don’t know what you’ve got on Jade,” he said, his pussy ass stopping a few feet away from me. “But I know she’d never willingly have anything to do with your stupid frat.”
I took a step forward. The banter in the locker room silenced, and Dickface’s wannabe-badass expression wavered.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I squared my shoulders, and his face paled a little.
Instead of backing off, suicidal determination fell over his ugly mug. “You act like some big shot, but—” He glanced around the locker room, like someone might step in and save him. “But really, you just…you just get off on scaring girls.” He blurted that last bit out like someone was twisting his arm to scream “uncle.”