Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
She’s going to be a lot of fun to hang with, and that’s why I’m here tonight. Even if she’s working and I might only get a smile or two, a word here and there… it’s a good way to spend the evening.
“She’s hot,” Camden observes. “In a very non-Tracy-like way.”
My head twists to stare at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means that if that were Tracy, she’d be doing something to get your attention. She’d have come over to you, batted her eyelashes, stuck her tits in your face or something. Your girl is washing dirty mugs and hasn’t glanced back at you. She’s confident and self-assured, and that’s what makes her hot in a non-Tracy-like way.”
I shake my head, not in disagreement but awe. “That’s actually on point.”
Our beers make it to us, along with several patrons coming up to Camden to thank him for the round. We’re recognized, which is expected, and people start buying us beers. When that happens, the bartender sets a wooden coin in front of us to collect the brew when we’re ready so we don’t have a line of poured drafts going warm.
It feels like forever, but it can’t be more than ten minutes before Stevie heads our way, and yeah… I’ve pretty much been staring at her the entire time.
Her eyes flit to Bain and Camden before returning to me and staying there. Stevie leans an arm on the bar and angles her body to face the three of us. “This is a pleasant surprise. Or rather stalkerish. Not sure which.”
Bain laughs, and that draws Stevie’s attention. She reaches out her hand. “Stevie.”
“Bain,” he says as they shake.
With her other hand, she points to the flat-screen TV behind the bar. “I know. Great game tonight.” She then extends her hand to Camden. “Both of you. Congrats.”
We beat the Chicago Bobcats tonight 1–0 in a tough defensive battle, and I personally had an excellent game. I wait for praise from Stevie, but instead, she motions to the three of us and asks, “Is this like a defensemen type thing? Do y’all hang out by virtue of your positions?”
I shake my head and throw my thumb at my teammates. “Nah. I actually don’t like them very much. I just asked them to come along as I knew they’d leave me alone while I flirted with you.”
Camden and Bain chuckle as Stevie rolls her eyes. I think she might walk away to make it hard for me, but she turns fully my way and leans across the bar. “Give me about twenty minutes and I can take a break. You and I can take on your friends in a game of pool. If they’re foolish enough, we can bet money.”
“I like it,” I say with a conspiratorial grin, not even remotely ashamed that I like to watch Stevie bend over to make her shot. I’m still surprised I beat her when we played the other night because her curvy little body was fucking distracting as hell.
“You played a great game, too,” she adds on softly. “You were very distracting to me.”
Stevie turns and moves down the bar, checking on drink refills along the way. I stare after her until Bain punches me in the arm. “Dude… you’ve got it bad.”
“I like her,” Camden says as he clamps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “And for the record, I despised Super Lint.”
“Yes, I know,” I drawl, well aware of how everyone on the team felt about my former girlfriend.
“Super Lint?” Bain asks.
“Tracy was way too clingy,” Camden explains. “And she was never happy. Always bitching about something.”
“Not always,” I say, feeling a weird need to defend Tracy. Or rather, defend my lack of common sense in being with someone like that.
“Always,” Camden says with a pointed look. “In fact—”
A loud crash at the far end of the bar makes us whip that way, only to see two men fighting. Well, more like shoving back and forth with a whole lot of profanity.
Two bikers covered in leather, tats, and scars, their bodies large enough to send other patrons scurrying as they go at each other. One of them is bald and throws a punch that lands square on the other dude’s jaw. But the other guy, who’s got long hair in a single braid down his back, is built like a Mack Truck and barely gets rocked. His expression looks almost amused as he strokes his jaw before his eyes go ice cold, promising retribution.
And then I’m horrified to see Stevie coming up over the top of the bar, baseball bat in hand as she jumps to the ground. Her face is livid as she storms toward the two combatants, and I’m shocked even more to see people clear a path for her to get to them.