Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Across from us, Drew slides out of the booth offering Chloe his hand, helping her stand. I turn to Easton, waiting for him to move as well, and find him watching me, not making a move to exit the booth. “It’s not the chase, Ris.” He reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve felt off-center. Like I need to get to know you for my world to be righted once again. I can’t explain it, even if I tried. All I know is that it’s not the chase, gorgeous, it’s you.” With that, he slides out of the booth and offers me his hand. I take it, needing his strength to lift me from the seat. I’m reeling from his confession. His words wanting to take root. Already, just after one lunch and his little speech, I’m ready to forget all the reasons why I’ve been turning him down.
“Ready?” Chloe asks.
“Yeah.” I turn to Easton who is still holding my hand. “Thank you for lunch.” He nods and releases his hold on me. I walk to the car on shaky legs, which seems to be something that happens a lot when Easton Monroe is around.
Practice today was brutal. The hot Tennessee sun was scorching. Thankfully, we started at six this morning to try and beat some of the heat. Now, here I am at noon sitting on the couch, soaking up the air conditioning, thinking about Larissa. Drew and the guys wanted me to go for lunch, but I wasn’t feeling it. I’m not in the mood for them to give me shit about the girl who and I’m quoting Fisher on this one, “has got me by the balls.” I won’t deny it. Well, maybe not the balls part, but she’s in my head.
It’s been a few days since I’ve seen her, and I can’t get our last conversation out of my mind. She asked me if it was the chase, and I’m certain it’s not. However, all I’ve thought about since she asked me is her and what it is about her that draws me in. Stating the obvious… she’s gorgeous. And it’s not the chase, but it’s because of it. I’m used to women falling at my feet. My dad played in the majors my entire life, so I’ve been in and out of the spotlight. As soon as they found out who I was, who my family was, they—meaning most women—offered themselves to me on a silver platter. I took full advantage in my younger years, and hell, even my first year in the majors, but just as fast as the fame and the women came, the novelty wore off. I grew up in a large family full of men who worshiped their wives, and it’s hard to not want that for myself. The past couple of years, I’ve steered clear of groupies. Sure, there’s the occasional hook-up but nothing like the majority of my teammates.
It wasn’t until I first laid eyes on Larissa, that I started really thinking about what it would be like to have that one person, all of my own. Someone to come home to after a long stint on the road. Someone to share my nights with, and the offseason. The more I think about it, the more the idea forms a foundation. The only problem is that in those daydreams, all I see is her.
Larissa.
And she wants nothing to do with me. At least that’s what she wants me to believe. I can see it in her eyes, the internal battle she’s waging to resist me. I wish I knew what it was that was holding her back. If I knew, I could assure her that whatever it is, it’s not too big a mountain to climb. Not in the grand scheme of what we could be.
I don’t know what it’s going to take to get her to take a chance on me.
Flipping through the channels, I stop on an ad for a local florist. The ploy is “let her know you’re thinking about her.” Normally, I would keep surfing channels, but this time, the commercial works and has me reaching for my phone. I spend the next thirty minutes on the phone discussing the best flowers to send her; the lady on the phone was extremely helpful. She even promised to keep this out of the press. Not that I care about that. I couldn’t care less who knows that I’m in knots over this girl. However, my gut tells me that if my interest was to get out, it would push her further away.
They promised delivery to her work today, so I wait to hear from her. The afternoon turns into evening and still nothing. The urge to grab my keys and drive to her work, to be there waiting when she gets off, is strong, but I fight it. I don’t want to stalk her. I just want the chance to get to know her. So instead, I settle for watching Sports Center with my phone clutched in my hand, waiting, hoping, wishing she would call. I received an e-mail confirming delivery was made hours ago.