Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“Absolutely.” May nods. “We got you, boo.”
I try not to laugh. Or sigh. No wonder August was terrified of facing these two. The Luck brothers might be a veritable wall of physical strength, but the Luck sisters have persuasive skills bordering on hypnotic. I already feel myself being pulled under.
June wraps her arm around my shoulders and gives me an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t look so glum, Penny. We’re going to take good care of you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter darkly.
“You’ll survive.” She kisses my cheek. “Sometimes you’ve got to let yourself enjoy a little pampering.”
Thing is? She’s right. I don’t do enough self-care. Hadn’t I been lecturing myself on getting better clothes? On crawling out of this shell I’ve constructed around myself? I can’t be the me I’ve always wanted to be if I don’t try. And if there was ever a time when I needed to put myself in their capable hands, it’s now.
A long breath leaves me, and I rest my head on June’s shoulder. “All right. Have at me.”
They both squeal. I’m enveloped in a group hug of joy. And it feels good to let go. Really good.
August
It’s late when I finally head out. Hours of training, followed by footage reviews and QB meetings have left my body drained and my eyes sore. I just want to kick back with a cold drink in one hand and Pen in the other.
The thought bursts through the fog like a lightning strike, and I halt a step. I shouldn’t be surprised; she’s on my mind more often than not. And I knew that having her in my life would change everything.
But the fact that she’s my first choice of reward after a long day truly sinks in. I’ve never had a person I looked forward to seeing in this way. Women: mother, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, play a huge factor in my life, and I love each and every one of them. I’d like to think they’ve made me a better person, shown me what it is to truly love and be loved.
When it comes to sexual release and romance, women have basically been interchangeable and not exactly necessary in my life. Truth is, I’ve felt no desire to get close to any of them. As for sex? That I’ve gone through a dry period since the last week of the draft—a time I do not want to think about—doesn’t faze me.
What does faze me is that one woman I want—no, need—to be near is the one I’ve convinced to fake it with me.
The thought makes my steps heavy as I head for the Grouch. Press have gathered at the visitors’ entrance for shots of players and quick sound bites. We have an important big game this week, so we’ll be peppered with the usual nonsense questions and given the usual stock answers. There are times when I’m answering that I imagine myself pulling a folksy Ted Lasso or, even better, a Roy Fucking Kent and letting loose. But reality is much less permissive of going off script. Last thing I need is to further tarnish my image by not being a “team player.”
Luckily, no one has yet spotted me. I exited a rarely used janitorial door in the hopes of evasion. It’s now a matter of casually strolling to my vehicle without them noticing.
The sun is doing an easy slide toward the western horizon, leaving a swath of gilded tangerine and bruised purple in its wake. Idle breezes dance over the warm concrete and rustle in the giant palms overhead. California is beautiful like that. Volatile at times but gorgeous all the same.
A gust of wind rushes past, lifting the ends of my hair and cooling me off. Sighing, I raise my head.
And spot her.
The sight goes through me in a thump of emotion—a punch to the heart, the solar plexus, everywhere. Again, my stride stutters to a halt.
She’s sitting on the hood of the Grouch, her booted heels resting on the chrome bumper. Her smile is lopsided, straining a little at the edges as I stand there staring back at her. The same wind that stroked me, tousles the gorgeous cloud of her shining brown hair, whipping it over her face, and she struggles to hold the mass back.
Happiness swells over me. In a crescendo it rises, vibrating in my bones. The smile on her face starts to turn uncertain, wobbling as though about to fall. Can’t have that. Not when her smile is the best thing I’ve seen all day. I grin back at her, full out so she can see what she does to me.
The answer is a light in her eyes, a slow, shy curl of her lips. She’s so fucking pretty. My feet move before I even think about it, pounding the pavement. It isn’t a run, but it’s close.