Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
My badass glare only made him laugh. “One hour.”
He winked and steered us to the glitzy bar with a glass ceiling and fairy lights. Someone slapped me on the back, handed me a drink, and we were off to the races—reliving the game, commiserating about our lackluster season, griping about teams we didn’t like, coaches who were assholes…the usual.
I nursed my vodka tonic, a plastic grin in place just like half the posers and vipers with vacant stares lurking in my periphery.
You know, I used to love the fine line separating reality from utter bullshit in LA. The willowy models, vapid actors, too-cool musicians, smarmy influencers, wily producers mixed in with everyday folks looking for a fun night out, a viral post, or at the very least, a good story. That shit was entertaining. Until it wasn’t.
Then it felt dirty.
I wasn’t having the worst time, though.
The bartender was a stunning dude with twinkly eyes and a genuine smile. I was always careful about flirting with men, and I certainly wouldn’t do it here, but he was nice to look at, and so was the blond who’d cornered me next to a tall plant. Her hair was long and perfectly coiffed, falling over her sun-kissed bare shoulders like honey. I concentrated on the girl, stealing an occasional peek at Hot Bartender.
She was talking about her roommate’s brush with a raccoon. It was kind of funny and on top of being pretty, she was genuinely charming. I didn’t know her name, but she knew mine. She knew who I was and even commented on my career. She’d claimed to have been following me for years. Was she shamelessly lying? Probably. I let it slide and felt myself finally begin to relax.
“Do you want another drink?” she purred, pressing her tits against my biceps.
I cast a furtive glance at the bartender. “Sure. Let me—”
One of my teammates swooped in, plucked my empty glass from my hand, replaced it with a fresh one, and held his hand up for a high five. The girl laughed while I shook my head ruefully.
“I love the Devils! You guys are the best,” she gushed.
“Want this?” I asked, offering her the drink.
She trailed her red nails along the front of my shirt. “No, thanks.”
I grabbed her wrist as she was about to undo a button but didn’t complain when she laced our fingers and swayed into me.
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“Kimber.” More fluttering eyelashes. “Did you forget already?”
I ignored the question and sipped my cocktail. My inhibitions were low, the music was bumping, and there was no harm in letting loose and having some fun. “And let me guess…you’re a model.”
“No, I’m a designer. I made my dress.” She struck a sexy pose, thrusting her hip, and treating me to a smoldering glance. Bar lights twinkled over the sequined form-fitted garment like cascading water.
“Wow. I’m impressed.”
And I was. If my gaze slowed at the curve of her breasts, that couldn’t be helped. She was beautiful, and maybe that was all I needed tonight.
Kimber beamed. “Thank you. My friend Kel is wearing one of my pieces too. See the girl in the emerald dress…right there.”
I twisted dutifully to look at her friend, shaking the ice in my glass. “Pretty.”
“Gorgeous. Kel’s a writer…the glamorous kind. Fashion reporting, mostly. She’s been in Vogue a few times.” Kimber wrinkled her nose and leaned in. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but—no, never mind.”
“Tell me,” I prodded, grinning like an idiot, my thoughts humming in a vodka haze.
Maybe Vally’d been right to drag my ass out. Impending retirement and my shit show of a personal life had been hovering over my head like a dark cloud for months. I needed a break from the gloom, and this felt nice and—
“She knows your ex.”
Screech.
I froze, my brows furrowed. “My ex.”
She nodded, dipping her chin in a sympathetic gesture that grated like a fork scaping dried food from a plate. The hum and buzz in my brain were replaced with sudden icy wariness.
And yet, Kimber barreled on.
“I’m so sorry about what happened. You deserve better.” She splayed a manicured hand on my chest and added, “Let’s make her jealous.”
Kimber lifted her arms to my shoulders as a camera flashed in my face, blinding me for a beat and effectively killing any remnant of interest.
“Yo! I need this guy for a second.” Vally stole my drink and deposited it on the bar, hooking a hand in the crook of my elbow. “You wanna go home?”
“Affirmative.”
Vally’s ride was waiting in front of the hotel lobby. I slipped into the back seat, my head pounding as the neon lights along Wilshire Boulevard whizzed by in a blur.
“Shit. I’m sorry, man. She was giving spider vibes, but you seemed into it…for a while. And a little distraction is a good thing.”
I snorted, scrubbing my jaw. “Yeah.”