Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?”
“It’s in my DNA. I’m sorry. But, seriously, you’ve been mooning over her for, what? A year?”
“Not quite.”
“It sure as hell feels like it,” he comments with a shit-eating grin. “I mean, I can’t deny there’s a part of me that misses the good old days when Noah Philips was hot on the prowl.”
“That was like five years ago.” Shortly after my father passed away, I went through a bit of a phase. Lots of bars. Lots of nightclubs. Lots of women. I’m not proud of any of it, but in hindsight, I’m certain it had a lot to do with grief and the stress that came with suddenly being the sole caregiver for my dear sister.
Thankfully, I grew the fuck up.
“Five years ago? That’s it?” Dale questions, but it’s not a question at all. “Damn. It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“You’re a shit friend, you know that?”
“I’m a good, very married friend who enjoyed living vicariously through your debauchery.”
My debauchery. I grimace. That’s definitely a time in my life I have no desire to repeat. Or think about, if I’m honest.
“Plus, you don’t have to hear my wife complaining about how you never go for any of the women she wants to set you up with,” he inserts and nudges me with his elbow. “Trust me, it’s a serious undertaking having to keep Kendall from doing something rash like putting you on Match.com.”
Truth be told, the women his wife tries to set me up with are exactly like her. Which, nothing against Kendall, but she’s not my type.
“I can’t help it that I’m particular,” I comment.
“You’re not particular, Noah. You literally only have eyes for one fucking woman.”
He’s not exactly wrong. Sammy is the first woman who has grabbed my attention in a really long time. There’s just something about her that…I don’t know…ensnares me. Pulls me in. She’s beautiful and funny and smart, and she’s real and raw and genuine.
She’s all the things I look for in a woman, plus a million other things I never imagined were possible.
“So…” Dale pauses to look over at me. “Are you going to tell me what happened with her, or am I supposed to guess?”
“Last night…” I pause my mouth but keep my legs moving, glancing briefly over at Dale.
“Last night…” he repeats, his eyes trying to search mine while simultaneously trying to stay on the jogging path.
“Last night…we slept together.”
“What?!” Dale stops running so suddenly, I nearly trip over Dolly as she turns back to look at him. Not even a second later, we’ve all come to a dead stop, and the lunatic is throwing his hands in the air and shouting, “Hell yes! What a damn relief! I thought I’d be on my deathbed and still hear you longing for her.”
“I stand by my words.” I point at him hostilely. “You’re a shit friend.”
“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, and his always cocky face turns down in apology. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m shocked, okay? And I’m also confused.”
“Why are you confused?”
“Because if you finally got the girl, why the hell do you look like you lost her?”
“I had to leave her in the middle of the night because you called me in. She was half asleep when I left, and I haven’t talked to her since.” I glare at him. “Plus…I know she’s been seeing another guy too. I think she’d even been on a date with him before I saw her last night.”
“Ooh, intrigue.”
I scowl. “Oh yeah, it’s the best.”
“Relax, bud.” He claps one hand on my shoulder. “At least she gave you a shot last night, right?”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that you’re in the game. Now it’s your job to prove to her that you’re the guy she wants to win. You feel me?”
“It’s a little heavy on the sports metaphors, but I get the point.”
“No other dude stands a chance if Dr. Noah Philips lays it all on the line.”
I smile and shake my head before punching him in the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s run.”
“Good idea, sweetheart. Now that you’re done swimming in your feelings, maybe you’ll be able to concentrate so we can catch up to my wife.”
I scoff. Catch up to his wife? Get real. That’s never going to happen.
Dale laughs. “Yeah, I know. In my dreams, right?”
Yep.
And in my dreams? Sammy Baker.
I unlock the door to my apartment and unclip Dolly’s leash, and she heads straight over to her dog bed by the window and stretches out.
“I take it you’re tired too, huh?” I question through a chuckle. Her answer is to nuzzle her face between her paws and close her eyes.
If my life were that simple, I’d be doing the same. Between the early wake-up and running six miles and internal worrying over not hearing back from Sammy, I’m running on E—truly the definition of dirty, hungry, and tired.