Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“Okay, but…we’re good, right?” I ask, glancing around to make sure none of my nosy teammates are listening in. Most of them have been cool about my secret marriage and new “celebrity” social media status, but I know a few of the more cynical team members are waiting for me to crash and burn. When I’m sure no one’s paying me any mind, I add, “I haven’t done something to upset you, have I?”
She quickly shakes her head, giving me comfort. “No, baby, not at all. You’re the best, as always.” A hint of her flirty smile curves her lips as she adds in a softer voice, “Though I am still a little sore.”
That tug low in my belly returns as I whisper, “Still? From Thursday?”
“We did do it four times, dude,” she hisses, glancing off screen, presumably to make sure little ears aren’t listening. “And that last position was…”
“Incredible,” I rumble, wishing she were under me with her ankles up beside her pretty face right now.
Her cheeks flush. “And deep. Very deep.”
“You have to stop, chère,” I murmur, “or you’re going to have me embarrassing myself in the locker room.”
She laughs and bites her lip, making me ache to have her mouth under mine. “Okay. Go, think chaste thoughts, and win big. We’ll be cheering loud for you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She disconnects, and I sit staring at the black screen, unease returning as soon as her gorgeous body isn’t there to “distract” me.
I flash back to Elly coming out of her bathroom with red eyes after a talk with Makena earlier in the week. She claimed it was just allergies, but maybe it was something else. She’s starting community college in January and is psyched to get her journalism degree in her spare time, but I know she’s been frustrated with her lack of progress in finding a job. She’s been putting out feelers nonstop, but the entire city’s in a job slump.
I’ve told her at least five times that she doesn’t have to stress about it, that I’m happy to support the three of us while she focuses on school.
But maybe I need to tell her again.
Tell her in a way that makes her believe it…
“Finally. I thought you’d never get off the phone.” Parker’s voice cuts through my thoughts, bringing me back to the pre-game madness. “Have you talked to Elly about the thing yet?” He glances around, apparently not wanting attention on his love life—or lack thereof—any more than I do. But the only person close to our section of the benches is Blue, and he couldn’t give two shits about gossip. “You know…the thing. About the thing thing?”
I meet his gaze, feeling sorry for the poor bastard. I don’t know what I would have done if Elly had kissed and ditched me. Probably moped around looking as sorry for myself as Parker has for the past week.
Unfortunately, I don’t have good news to share. “You sure you don’t want to wait until after the game?”
He shakes his head and sniffs dramatically. “Nope. Give it to me now, and I’ll let my despair fuel me.”
Not knowing whether to laugh or sympathize—sometimes, with Parker, it can be hard to tell when he’s joking—I say, “Elly told the ‘thing’ that it was cool for you guys to do the ‘thing,’ but that didn’t seem to make a difference. I think the thing’s mind is made up that she’s better off alone right now.”
He curses as he turns to gaze across the locker room, disappointment clear on his face. “Well, at least we’ll always have Paris.”
“And by Paris, you mean The Brass Monkey and a Slim Jim,” I say, hoping gentle teasing will cheer him up.
He nods seriously. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“I love that bar,” Blue rumbles in his deep-as-the-ocean voice, surprising us both. He doesn’t seem like an animal-themed dive bar in Metairie kind of guy.
“Really?” Parker asks. “What’s your cocktail? You can tell a lot about a man by which cocktail he chooses at The Brass Monkey.”
Before Blue can answer, Coach Merwood is climbing up on a chair at the front of the room, the better to look each of us in the eye as he gives his “going into battle” speech. The man gets more like a dwarven warlord from a fantasy film with every passing day. The pre-game pep talks are downright poetic at this point, and Nix swears he saw twigs in Coach’s beard the other day.
Tonight, the speech focuses on turning shit around after our first loss last Tuesday, inspiring a standing ovation by the end.
The Voodoo doesn’t just want a winning season; we want the winningest season an expansion team has ever had, and we intend to bring the cup to Louisiana for the first time in history or die trying.