Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I glared but gestured for him to get on with it. “Go on.”
“One, you owe some of your recent endorsement opportunities to Sutcliffe. Power of associative selling at its finest.”
“What the fuck?”
“That’s a fact, man. And two…” He hooked a thumb toward the main portion of the restaurant on the other side of our high partition. “On your way out the door, I want you to walk slowly and read the room. You might say you don’t give a crap what anyone thinks and if so, good for you. Maybe you don’t mind that half the population wants to fix you and the other half feels sorry for you. And maybe they’re a tad jealous that you’re one degree of separation from the Trilogy Alpha Team leader.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groaned.
“I know. The truth hurts, but you can do something with this. Hey, it’s March. The draft is next month. That gives you some time to think about it. So…think.” Ger nudged my menu playfully with his, then raised a hand to flag down our waiter. “I’m starving. Fuck no carbs. I’m ordering the twice-baked potato.”
I studied the menu as if I’d be tested on it. Choosing a starter, salad, or entrée was the only decision I was capable of at the moment. The rest…
Okay, fine…I was overwhelmed.
All I’d ever wanted was to play football. Everything else had been icing on the cake—the beautiful wife, the big house, a garage filled with sports cars. I’d never thought I’d find myself using football to strategically maneuver real life.
And yeah, later, I’d noticed the curious gazes on my way out of the restaurant. I felt like a caged animal being paraded through a crowd. Maybe some were football fans, but I didn’t think they necessarily admired me. It was as Ger said—they simply couldn’t get enough of the spectacle.
What was I going to do about it? Let them have me or use the situation to my advantage? And line Ger’s pockets, too? Let’s face it, money was the main motivator here. Ger was a savvy wheeler and dealer. He spotted dollar signs where no one else did and had a knack for finding silver linings. But this one felt a little seedy.
Needless to say, I was too distracted to check my messages until I was at the curb, waiting at the valet kiosk for my car.
Frosty’s hat choices were limited.
I smiled automatically. What he really needs is a top hat. Got one of those handy?
Cooper responded fifteen minutes later just as I pulled into my garage. Fresh out of top hats. Sorry.
I cut the engine and tried to think of a witty reply but came up empty.
Okay…not true. I wanted to tell him that his timing was perfect and that I’d been thinking about him nonstop for weeks. I wanted to ask if there was still snow on the ground and what he was doing up so late. It was after midnight there.
I settled on, Cut any trees lately?
Cringe.
Cooper’s eye roll emoji made me laugh. A California comedian. I liked you better in Vermont.
Fuck. Me too.
We traded texts while I changed into sweats, brushed my teeth, and headed downstairs to curl up on the sofa with my iPad. Nothing earth-shattering. Cooper told me the snowman was long gone and the dusting they’d had two days ago just made the streets slushy and dirty. He was tired of winter…couldn’t wait for spring and warmer weather. I told him it was seventy-five degrees today and he told me to fuck off.
We left it there. No Good night or Hope all is well.
And that was okay. Almost better, actually, ’cause it felt like an open line, an outside connection that couldn’t have come at a better time.
I texted Cooper a couple of days later. I’d been jogging at the beach early one morning and it had been so damn pretty and quiet and I’d wanted to share it with someone. Snapshots of the ocean at sunrise wasn’t my usual Instagram post. I was more of a “selfie at the gym” or a “random pic with a cute dog I spotted on a run” kind of guy. But it was perfect for Cooper.
Not to rub it in, but…
I grinned, imagining his faux-irate grimace. He didn’t disappoint.
A pic of dirty snow popped on my screen. That was it. No message.
My chuckle startled the woman in front of me in line at my local coffee shop. I ignored her curious double take and the flash of a camera as I approached the register. I wondered idly if Ger had leaked something about me signing a new contract and was stirring up the social media frenzy.
I’d avoided crowds for a few days—worked out in my home gym, made my own lattes and smoothies, and had groceries delivered, but I couldn’t hibernate forever. I craved human contact. Even if it was just a trip to the coffee shop.