Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I glance back over at him, trying to imagine myself working for him. He seems…safe. Safer than Logan Moreno, anyway. Could I actually pull it off? Maybe. Or maybe I'll crash and burn in a blaze of humiliating glory, sinking my reputation before I even manage to build one.
My gaze drifts to Logan again. He's still messing with his phone. His dark hair hangs over his forehead, drawing attention to the furrow between his brows. He's tense, his body rigid. He seems worried, stressed almost.
What's he looking at?
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I slide from my chair before I can stop myself. "I'm going to order nachos. I'll be right back." I take a step away from the table and then pause, glancing back at Serena. "Behave while I'm gone."
She just smirks at me…which may or may not mean she's going to listen. Who knows with her? Unlike me, Serena has no problem talking to men. She's a swan, with a sea of sharks chasing after her. One day, she might actually stop swimming and let one catch her.
I stride across the bar, casting furtive glances at the team's table as I close the distance between me and it. Logan is still messing with his phone, but everyone else is giving Jordan a hard time about something. He casually lifts his middle finger in the air as if to signal his feelings on the subject.
I'm not entirely watching where I'm going as I cross in front of their table, trying to catch a glimpse of Logan's phone, so it's absolutely my fault when I smack right into a man passing by, nearly knocking us both off our feet.
He rears back, his bleary green eyes rolling over me as he towers over me. He's cute in a disheveled kind of way. His suit is wrinkled.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, rubbing my forehead where it cracked against his shoulder. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
His lips curve into a slow grin as his eyes rake down my body. "No harm, no foul, gorgeous. You okay?"
"Fine. Sorry again." I move to step around him, eager to escape the pungent scent of alcohol and cologne before my future boss has a chance to notice me. The last thing I need is to sink my chances before I even interview.
The guy steps with me, blocking my path.
"Excuse me," I say politely.
"Where you rushing off too?" Suit's smirk grows, his gaze firmly locked on my chest. Great. I would run into the one guy in the bar who wants to stare at my tits. "Maybe I should walk you. Make sure you don't bump into anyone else."
Jesus. What decade does he think we're living in?
"Uh, no. I can handle it myself."
"I insist." He reaches for my arm, still leering at me. "It'll be fun."
The way he says that clues me in to the fact that it'll be anything but fun for me. He's either an overbearing asshole…or a creep. I don't intend to find out which.
"I said no," I growl, taking a step backward.
He tries to grab my arm anyway.
He isn't that drunk. And he isn't deaf. So creep it is, I guess. Lovely. Why is there always one in every bar? It's like they spend their lives staking these places out, just waiting to make asses out of themselves. Does it ever actually work out for them anymore?
I contemplate asking him that question, but he grabs for me again, and my temper flares. I spin to the table behind me, my eyes falling on the half-empty pitcher of beer situated near the edge. Every player at the table glances in my direction, conversation abruptly ending.
"I'm borrowing this," I say, snatching it off the edge before anyone can protest. I spin again, flinging the contents at the asshole who doesn't know how to take no for an answer.
"What the fuck?" he growls as beer splashes him in the face.
"I said keep your damn hands off me," I snap.
"You stupid little…" Rage flashes across his face as he takes a step toward me, his hand lifted.
I square my shoulders, too mad to back down or cower. Maybe that's my problem. I never know when I should quit. I may not know how to talk to men, but letting one walk all over or bully me? Hell no. That'll never happen.
"Don't even fucking think about it," a deep voice snarls from behind me before Logan Moreno quickly steps in front of me, partially blocking me with his body. He shoves the asshole who couldn't take no for an answer, sending him sprawling across the floor a few feet away. "She told you to keep your goddamn hands to yourself. If you want to keep them, I highly suggest you listen."
"She threw beer on me!" Suit protests into the silence of the bar. Literal dead silence. Everyone is watching this scene unfold.