Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Are you not? I start to ask that, but change my mind. Because if the answer is no, then that puts me in a pickle. I can’t really be loyal to Renn and know that Gray is not. But I can’t work for Gray and keep stuff from Renn.
It seems I’m reminded every time I’m here that it’s better not to know everything.
“Why are you asking so many questions?” I ask and then take a sip of water.
He sits up and places his bottle on the floor beside him. His attention switches from me to the chessboard. He takes a white pawn and advances it two spaces. “Why do you take offense to me asking questions?”
“I don’t.” Not exactly, anyway. I put my feet on the floor. Then I lean forward and move a black pawn two squares, mirroring his move. “I’m just not sure why it matters.”
He moves a knight. “Maybe it doesn’t.”
“Good. Then we can avoid that going forward.” I move a knight to defend my pawn and ignore the smirk on his face. “Are you getting used to the calendar? I know it can be confusing at first, but I swear it’ll make both of our lives easier once you get the hang of it.”
“I find it a pain in the ass, honestly. It makes me feel like I’m on probation or something.”
I laugh. “Does that make me your probation officer?”
“You’re definitely more like a warden.” He chuckles, grinning at me. “I can actually see you as a warden. You’d have the convicts shaking in their prison flip-flops.”
“Oh, hell, no. I’d be terrified. I’m not cut out for prison life in any form.”
He snorts. “Come on, Astrid. You can’t tell me that having control over hundreds of people at one time doesn’t turn you on at least a little bit.”
“Well, when you put it like that …”
He moves his bishop, pinning my knight to my king. “On a serious note, I do like how you’ve color-coded things. It’s efficient.”
Everything works better when it’s color-coded.
“Thanks.” I grin, advancing a pawn so he needs to decide whether to capture my knight or retreat. “I took longer than you’d imagine choosing those colors.”
He studies the board, weighing his move. His lashes are so long, so dark from this angle that they look fake. “That’s really not that hard to believe.”
I lean back into the sofa again and glance around the room. It’s a decent size—probably a quarter bigger than mine. A window on the opposite wall allows a good amount of light in, definitely enough to grow a plant or two. If he had a few things on the walls and maybe a chair or reading lamp, this place could be downright cute.
He retreats. “Do you have a calendar like that for your life?”
“Of course, I do.” I move another knight forward. “I have a personal one, a work one, Renn’s, Blakely’s, and now I have yours. But, believe it or not, I kinda love it. I was always the kid who scored high on organizational skills in high school. It feeds my soul.”
“Calendars feed your soul?”
I nod.
His dimples shine in his cheeks. “You need a hobby.”
“You are not the first person to tell me that recently.”
He laughs as he castles his king.
The sound of his laughter catches me off guard. It’s the first time I’ve heard it, aside from the occasional chuckle at my expense. It’s in stark contrast to the argumentative, taciturn man I usually encounter. Wrapping my head around the fact that Gray is both men is difficult.
“Speaking of hobbies,” I say, moving a bishop. “Do you do anything during the offseason that I should know about? Classes? Jobs? Endorsements? I just want to make sure to cover everything, and I know a lot of guys have side hustles after the season is over.”
Gray leans back, resting against the cushions and watches me. No scowl. No glares. No tight lips or clenched fists.
The tension that’s usually biting the air around us is nowhere to be found. In its place is a quiet understanding. A truce. It’s oddly relaxing to sit peacefully with Gray and have full-sentence conversations without snapping at each other. I appreciate it but I also don’t quite trust it. Because, if I trusted it, I think I might like it.
“Do I take classes?” he asks. “Nope. I should probably consider what I’m going to do after I retire from rugby, but I keep putting that off. Side jobs? Not right now. Endorsements? Yes. Actually, I have a few emails from a sports drink company that I just signed a deal with requesting deliverables—which I think are just videos they want me to take myself. Maybe I could forward those to you, and you could handle them?”
I grab my clipboard from my bag and unfasten my pen from the top. “If you could get that to me tonight, I can reach out to them tomorrow morning.” I write a note to myself at the top of the page. “Any other deals I should know about?”