Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“That’s awesome,” I interrupted somewhere in the middle of his gory tale about the size of the new blister on his ankle. I put my arm around Miss Smartypants’s shoulders to keep her close when someone barreled by us, dripping beer from a Solo cup. “Hey, I want you to meet my frie—”
“I’m Kendra,” she supplied, holding her hand out like royalty.
Schultz glanced at her outstretched hand in amusement, then at me. The lapse in time was just long enough to be rude, and something in me snapped. I laced my fingers with hers, kissed her knuckles, and inclined my head toward the living area.
“C’mon babe, I want to introduce you to someone else.” I nodded an absent good-bye at Schultz and led her into the living area.
She batted me away when we reached a corner near the window. “What did you just do?”
“He’s a dick. You can do better than him,” I said.
“I don’t want to marry him, dummy!”
I threw my hands in the air and snorted. “Good. But you can arrange your own booty call. I don’t want any part of that. And I’m the world’s worst wingman anyway.”
“You are,” she agreed with a huff. “You called me ‘babe.’ Now everyone is going to think we’re together.”
“I’m sorry. That was weird of me. But seriously, there are a lot of other nice guys on my team. My friend Troy is cool. Want to meet him? I’ll introduce you before I leave and—”
“You can’t leave me here. People will think we broke up.”
I frowned. “We aren’t together.”
“Yeah, but you just announced that we are, so now you’re stuck with me for a little while.”
I fixed her with a fierce stare. “I’m staying for ten minutes, tops.”
“Twenty.”
“Fifteen,” I countered.
“Deal.”
I chuckled when she held out her hand, but I shook it like a gentleman, then steered her toward a couple of eligible bachelors who I knew for a fact were decent guys.
We hung out together for another hour before I finally convinced her I had to go home. But I had to admit, it was kind of fun. No doubt my friends would have a million questions about my surprise new girlfriend at practice next week. Kendra didn’t look or act like any of the other girls: she didn’t wear much makeup, her dress was cute but not particularly sexy, and she pushed her glasses up on her nose every few minutes. I couldn’t help feeling a little protective of her; she was a like a minnow swimming in a shark tank. She was quirky as hell, but she was pleasant company. And a nice respite from obsessing over Sky.
Until she mentioned him out of the fucking blue as I walked her to her car.
“Sky?”
“Yeah, the smokin’ hot guy from econ. You remember him, don’t you? He always sat by the window. Blondish hair, blue eyes, a body that—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I remember. What about him?” I asked gruffly.
“Do you have his number?” She pointed her key fob at a Hyundai like she was holding a loaded gun, then spun around and handed me her cell. “You should give me yours too. Now that your friends kind of think we’re dating, it would seem strange if I didn’t know how to contact you. Feel free to add Sky’s too.”
“What’s with you? You seem like you’re on a mission to…you know.”
“I am. I’m twenty-two and I’ve never done anything…fun. I made a promise to myself that I would do everything before I graduate. The clock is ticking.” Kendra tapped her wrist for emphasis. “No more waiting on the sidelines. I’m not going to be shy anymore. I’m going after what I want.”
I typed in my number, returned her cell, and slipped my hands in my pockets. “Good for you. But you’re on your own. I told you, I’m not your wingman.”
“That’s fine. You can be my friend.” She beamed.
I smiled. “Sounds good.”
Bailey, Barnes, and Cohen was located in a Spanish-style building in Belmont Shores a block away from the beach. The prime location, friendly partners, and generous perks made BBC a cool place to work. If you wanted to be an accountant. And I did not…I repeat, did not want to be an accountant. Nothing against the profession. I loved numbers, and I probably had what it took to be a great CPA. I was diligent, concise, and spreadsheets kinda turned me on. But I didn’t want to work for Harry. I already owed him enough. I was grateful for sure, but I was ready to do my own thing.
I slapped a high five with Meg, the receptionist on duty, and inclined my head toward the curtain of silver streamers dividing the upscale wood-and-marble accented lobby area from the main office.
“Whose birthday is it?”
“Chandra, Karen, and Willy’s. You missed it. We sang at lunch,” she said with a wink, tucking a strand of her long black curly hair behind her ear. Meg was a pretty, petite African American woman with a fun sense of humor and a quick wit. She’d been working for Harry for years. Maybe decades. She might make fun of his silly traditions, but she was fiercely loyal to him.