Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
She knows. Her hips press against mine, and her lips tilt up in a smile that is not meant to seduce, but that’s exactly what it does. She has me hook, line, and sinker. “Okay, I can stay for a little while.”
I nod and reach for her chair, holding it until she sits down. I pull mine closer and sit down with my thighs open and her legs between mine. “Tell me about you.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m April. I’m a baker at Sugar Glaze Bakery in Whiskey Run.”
I lean closer and inhale. “Is that why you smell so sweet?”
She laughs and playfully swats at my chest. I catch her hand because it’s an excuse to touch her. I need to touch her. “I’m serious. You smell really good.”
She swallows. “Uh, actually, I joke about that all the time. I sometimes feel like I’ve got sugar baked into my skin. I am always smelling sugar and vanilla even when I’m not at work.”
I press my nose to the side of her neck. She doesn’t resist me. Her head tilts to the other side, and I feel her body tremble against me when I touch my lips behind her ear.
I pull back and shift in my seat. “Yeah, sugar and vanilla.”
Her eyes are wide. “So what about you? What’s a center?” she asks.
I try to hide my smirk. So she doesn’t follow football. “Uh a center is the one that hikes the ball.”
She looks at my hand on hers. I’m tracing on the back of her hand, and I switch up directions because I realize I’m drawing hearts on her. She scrunches her nose up. “Hikes it?”
I could brag and tell her that the center pretty much is the leader of the offensive line, but I don’t want to sound conceited. “Yeah, to the quarterback.”
She nods. “Cool. I’ll have to watch a game now and see you hike your ball.”
Her face turns red, but all I can think about is having her watch me. I’d love that. I’d love to have her cheering for me from the sidelines. “I’d like that. But we don’t play again until spring.”
She doesn’t commit. She even rears back a little when I mention the timeframe, letting me know she’s skittish. I lay my hand firmly across hers either to hold her to me or to calm her, I’m not sure. How in the world have Josh and Violet kept this woman a secret? I can already imagine if my teammates knew about her, they would have already made a play for her. Which brings me to my next question. “How do you know Josh and Violet?”
Chapter 3
April
His hand on mine is driving me crazy. He’s a big guy, making me feel small and almost dainty next to him. I snap my eyes up to his, and he’s still looking at me with his big, brown, soulful eyes. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask.
He leans in because I guess he thought I couldn’t hear him. “How do you know Josh and Violet?”
I turn my head, but instead of his ear, I’m looking straight at him, our faces so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Uh, you know Violet owns Red’s Diner in Whiskey Run?”
He nods, staring at my lips. “Yeah, I knew she owned a diner.”
“Well, her diner is just down the street from the bakery, and well, have you ever been to Whiskey Run?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I know it’s only thirty minutes from here, but I haven’t been there.”
“Well, it’s a small town, and we all know each other, but Violet is a good friend of mine. I make cupcakes for her to sell in the diner, and we sort of hit it off from the start.”
“I want to try one of your cupcakes,” he says with a lick of his lips.
I laugh. “Well, the next time you’re in Whiskey Run, you’ll have to come by the bakery or the diner and grab one.”
He clears his throat and sits back. “I’m here for another week... less than a week actually.”
“Oh, you don’t live here in Jasper?”
“I have an apartment here during the season, but I planned to go home until spring,” he says, and I swear he almost looks sad about it.
“Where’s home?” I ask him.
A waitress comes to stand next to our table. She’s staring at Matt, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Can I get you all anything?”
He looks at me with raised eyebrows, and I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“No really. I have to drive. I’m good,” I tell him.
“Nothing, thank you,” he tells the waitress, still looking at me. She looks almost longingly at him before walking away.
“So where’s home?” I ask him again.
“Texas,” he says.
An idea forms in my head. “And you’re only here for a week?” I ask to be sure I heard him right.