Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
That can’t be right. Wouldn’t Kate have given me that information when I’d pried her for it after the party last week? My sister said she thought Molly worked in computers but wasn’t sure what that entailed.
For a few minutes, I forget why I’m here in the first place; to guide my client along and make sure he gets through the process without losing his temper. The last thing I want is for this to take an eternity. We all have shit we need to get done today, and they were only budgeted for a few hours to wrap this entire production up.
So if Tripp could eat the chips and say his goddamn lines without looking like he’s going to barf, that would be great. Then he can go home, and I can get on with my day, and all will be right with the world.
Still, my eyes stray back to Molly.
It’s obvious that she is well aware of my presence. She’s staring way too hard ahead of her, but I swear I can see her ears twitching. It’s not as if there is anything exciting to see—just a retired football player and a bag of potato chips.
Big whoop.
An entire half hour goes by without us speaking.
Forty-five minutes.
Fifty-six.
All these minutes feel like an eternity, but eventually, Tripp hits his mark and nails the lines with a smiling face—the way he should have done to begin with. And when it’s over, he heads in my direction, arms wide, big dopey grin on his face.
Oh.
He wants a hug?
That’s different, but okay—the guy gives me ten percent of his endorsements contract, so I think I can stand to hug him for—
His arms go around Molly. “I’m glad to see you showed up. I was hoping you wouldn’t get too busy and change your mind.”
I watch dumbfounded as Tripp Wallace envelops her in a hug as if they were long-lost friends.
“I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see you film a commercial. You’re a horrible actor.” She laughs. “Really, seriously, the worst.”
“Ahh, stop—you’ll make me blush.”
What the hell is going on?
“Uh, do you two know each other?”
“Mr. Wallace lives next door to my parents. I used to walk his dog.”
The football legend cackles. “Dogwalker? Nonsense. Molly was my life coach when I was single,” Tripp tells me, putting his arm around Molly in an affectionate hug. The way a dad would do with his daughter. Undoubtedly, they’re close and have a history I know nothing about.
Pfft. “I was not your life coach.”
The retired football star scoffs. “Listen. You were the only one who gave it to me straight when I was single—you basically played matchmaker between Chandler and me. You’re the one who made me realize I had my head up my ass.”
Molly ducks her head, blushing. “I was fifteen years old. I said a lot of random shit back then. You probably shouldn’t have listened.”
“Nonsense.” Tripp grins. “You were wise beyond your years and have more wisdom than…this guy.” He points at me, and I bat his finger away with a laugh. “Molly, this is my agent, Elias Cohen. Cohen, this is Molly Summervale, one of our family friends.”
Molly clears her throat. “We’ve met, actually.”
“Oh yeah?” Tripp looks back and forth between the two of us. “When?”
He never has been one for subtly or one for letting things go.
“At a party.”
Molly’s chin tilts up. “Elias was at my house with his sister for a party; one in which he proceeded to follow me up to my office—uninvited—and ask if he could hire me to be his wingwoman.”
“Hire you? I never said I wanted to hire you.”
“So you’re trying to get me, a stranger, to do a favor for free?” She snorts. “Rude.”
“How is that rude?”
“Because you don’t know me!”
You know, she’s kind of cute when she’s gotten her panties in a twist.
“Plus,” Tripp adds. “He could totally afford to pay you.” He looks at my suit. “Didn’t you just sign Beaumont to the Mountaineers for two-hundred-million dollars?”
My face flushes. “Yes.”
“What does a wingwoman do, anyway?” My client cocks his head to the side and waits for an answer. “I’ve heard of a wingman, but what the hell do you need a wingwoman for?”
“I need her to fend off females for me,” I mutter, embarrassed.
Molly’s brow goes up as if she’s shocked I answered honestly.
“Isn’t that the opposite of what a wingman is?”
“Yes. There are no rules when it comes to dating. Or not dating.”
Tripp rubs his freshly shaved chin. “And why are you trying to fend off females?”
“He’s trying to win some dumb bet he made with a friend.”
I tsk. “Correction. I’m trying to win a dumb bet I made with Jack Jennings and Penelope Halbrook.”
He nods because he knows exactly who I’m talking about. “What kind of bet?”
Molly yawns, speaking for me for a second time. “They don’t think he’s boyfriend material.”