Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“I can only imagine the kind of debauchery you’d schedule in that planner. Do you even need to pencil in an orgy? Seems like you’d remember.”
A sour layer coated his tongue. “You know, Skylar, most nights I’m at hockey practice. Passed out at home after hockey practice. In an Epson salt bath. Or eating lasagna with Mailer. I’m not always out haunting clubs looking for women.”
“You only do that three times a week.”
Robbie snorted. “Twice, tops.”
I can’t see myself doing it anymore, he almost added. Not after you.
Yeah, when he got back to Boston, he’d talk to Mailer about knocking off the irreverent bachelor lifestyle. Maybe . . . who knows. Maybe Skylar and Madden wouldn’t work out. She’d bump into Robbie at the park after the breakup and he’d be extra jacked, since this was his fantasy. She’d be, like, What have you been up to? And he’d say, Not clubbing, that’s what. I volunteer at hospitals now in my spare time.
Then she’d whip out her adorable little planner and schedule in a date with him.
A real one.
For now, however, if all he got was a fake one, he’d damn well take it.
“So, we’re definitely on for tonight?” Robbie asked, peering down at the grass through the tiny sliver of daylight at the bottom of his blindfold and finding the white starting line that had been spraypainted on the grass. “Take me somewhere the portion sizes can feed a family. Or one Robbie.”
“I might know a place,” she mumbled. “But I’m not going to be in the mood for a date if we lose.”
He dropped into a runner’s stance, adrenaline beginning to simmer. “Roger that, Rocket.”
“Ten seconds. Are you ready?”
“Born ready.”
“The first flag is an easy one. Straight ahead about twenty yards. No obstacles in your way.” The shriek of the whistle echoed across the field and Robbie lunged forward into the open field. “Go, go, go.”
“I’m going. Start telling me how to get to the next one.”
“Okay, once you pocket the first flag, number two is a hard cut to the left, maybe fifteen yards. Here’s the thing, my mom’s and Elton’s second flags are right beside it, so you’re going to have company.”
Robbie snagged flag one and changed directions. This was going to be easy as pie. “Is anyone or anything in my path?”
“No, but my mom is coming in hot. Be prepared.”
Prepared for what? How bad—
A sharp elbow caught him in the ribs, followed by a maniacal cackle. Next, what Robbie suspected was a foot tripped his ass and he went sprawling forward into the grass.
“Oops,” Skylar said in his ear. “Told you.”
He was already back on his feet, dismayed to find he’d lost his sense of direction. “Jesus Christ.” He turned in a disoriented circle. “Where . . . ?”
“Listen for my airhorn,” Skylar said. “Face the finish line again.”
A deafening honk came from a football field away. He twisted around and continued on his way. “Got it. Where’s the flag now?”
“Take five big steps to the left. It’s there.”
A second later, he seized the flag. “When did you get a freaking airhorn?”
“Worry about it later, my mom already has three flags.”
“What? Where’s my next one?”
“From your current position, take eight paces forward.” She sucked in a breath. “Be warned, you might encounter Elton. His zig might intersect with your zag.”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Come on, Robbie. Your black eye was just beginning to fade.”
Robbie heard approaching footsteps a split second before he sensed a presence. His instinct was to lower his shoulder and flip Skylar’s brother. Or increase his pace and take him to the boards, but there were no boards in the middle of the open field and he really wanted that date with Skylar tonight, so he waltzed with Elton instead. Clasped the other man’s left hand in his own, planted a hand on his shoulder, and started counting off one two three, one two three . . .
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Not pissing off your sister.”
A frustrated curse. “I don’t know which direction I’m facing now!”
“That might have been my ulterior motive.” Robbie released Elton and ducked by him, knowing exactly where he was in the field, because he’d kept track of his box steps. “Those church dances just paid off, Rocket.”
“I can’t believe what I just witnessed. Slow down, you’re almost to the third flag. There. Stop. No, feel your way along the grass to the right . . .”
“Got it.”
“Yes! Okay, dead run toward my airhorn. Nothing is in your way. The last flag is right in front of the finish line.”
“Yeah, but where is your mom? I’m terrified.”
“She slipped in some mud.”
“Oh shit. Does she need help?”
“Hell no! It could be a trap! Just keep running.”
Robbie and Skylar won the first Page Stakes event.
On the other side of the finish line, Robbie doubled over with his hands on his knees, judging he’d have a bruise on his side the size of Atlanta by evening. The pain was well worth it when he tore off his blindfold to find Skylar running in his direction, laughing, her braid bouncing side to side on her shoulders.