Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“Hopefully you can bid on some A-game tonight,” I tell him. “You look like one of those cartoon characters with hearts popping out their eyes and their tongue hanging to the floor.”
He grins at me. “There’s nothing like a woman in a dress and heels, am I right?”
My blood pumps hard at the though of Reese in that red gown. “I prefer a dress and heels on my bedroom floor any day of the week.”
“You must really like this one,” Silas says, following my line of sight to the table Reese is working at. “You’re working hard for it.”
“I do really like her, but this is a good cause. If we can’t raise this money, the shelter will have to cut their after-school program for kids, and they won’t be able to serve hot meals anymore.”
He smirks. “Like I said, soft.”
I swallow my comeback as I see Reese walking across the room toward me. She says a quick hello to Silas and then hugs me, and I have to run through a couple hockey plays in my head to avoid getting hard from the feel and smell of her.
“You look amazing,” I say in her ear, noticing the goosebumps that appear on her arms.
“Thanks.” She pulls back and smiles up at me. “I can’t believe how many people there are here.”
“There are lots of fat checkbooks in this room too,” I say with a wink.
Silas excuses himself, probably to go find out if the woman he was looking at is here with a date.
“Are we still pretending you’ll only go out with me if this event raises at least 200k?” I ask Reese in a low tone.
She grins. “Who’s pretending?”
I put my hands on her waist. “This is a brand new tux, you know. I’ve never taken it off before, so it might be a challenge. If only I had someone to undo all these buttons later…”
“If only,” she says, her face flushing.
“There you are, Reese.”
A woman approaches us, looking relieved to see Reese. An African-American woman with long braids and big brown eyes, she’s very striking. I’d probably be attracted to her if I had eyes for any woman but Reese.
“Angelia, this is Knox,” Reese says, gesturing toward me. “And Knox, this is Angelia.”
“The best friend,” I say, offering my hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Angelia hesitates for a second before shaking my hand and smiling. “Same here.”
She tugs on a part of her long navy dress that’s hidden by a black wrap. It’s clear she’s uncomfortable.
“Can I get you ladies a drink?” I ask them.
“I’ll take some water,” Angelia says.
“White wine for me,” Reese says. “Thanks.”
I leave them to talk in hushed tones, half-wondering if they’re talking about me. What’d I’d give to be a fly on the wall. I know Reese is attracted to me, but I’m dying to know if there’s something more there for her, like there is for me.
I’ve almost made it to the bar when Olivier Durand stops me.
“Hey, thanks for being here,” I say as I shake his hand.
He gestures around the room. “We’re fortunate to have a foundation that puts on fundraisers like this.”
“I agree. And a team owner who supports them, too.”
He gives me a wry smile. “I absolutely believe in giving back.” He clears his throat and turns to the young woman beside him. “Knox, may I introduce my niece, Marcella Durand?”
Marcella, a twenty-something blonde, smiles widely at me. “Fort Knox,” she says lightly, “at last I get to meet you.”
She must be a hockey fan, because most non-fans don’t know that’s my nickname, due to my size and my ability to keep opposing players from getting to the goal.
“Great to meet you, Marcella,” I say, shaking her hand.
She steps closer to me, and Olivier clears his throat. “I told my niece I’m pretty sure you’re involved with someone who works at the shelter, thus your reason for asking the foundation to put on this event, but she was insistent about meeting you.”
Marcella shrugs, looking unfazed that her uncle pretty much just told me she’s interested in me.
“A girl can still try,” she says.
“I’m flattered,” I say, “but your uncle is right. I’m spoken for already. She actually volunteers at the shelter and she’s an incredibly talented pastry chef.”
“Hmm. I can barely make a grilled cheese,” Marcella says. “But I have other talents.”
Olivier gives her a stern look, then turns to me. “Knox, we’ll let you get on with your night.”
“Hopefully you guys can meet Reese later,” I say.
“We’d like that.”
He leads his niece off to meet someone else, and I hold back a laugh. The guy’s got all the money in the world, but it doesn’t help him contain his hormonal hockey-loving niece.
I get the drinks and make my way back to Reese, feeling like things may finally be falling into place for us. It’s bittersweet for me, because I want to introduce Reese to my family, but now isn’t a good time. I talked to my dad on the phone earlier, with my mom there on speakerphone. He was in good spirits, but I know it can’t last. The doctors have been clear that it’s only a matter of time for him, and that it’ll be sooner rather than later.