Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I turn away from him and grab my stuff. I use the opportunity to get some fresh, un-Hollis-scented air and to let myself settle just a bit.
You’re friends. He’s a super-hot Boone. Go into it thinking that.
I turn as he blows a bubble. As it snaps, he winks.
Shit.
“What’s your last name?” I ask him as I step outside.
“Hudson. Why?”
I shut the door and lock it before dropping my keys into my purse.
“Just in case you kill me. That way, Bellamy knows who to look for,” I say.
He chuckles. “Hopefully, she’d call the cops.”
“You’d be lucky if she did that and didn’t come after you on her own. She’s a savage.”
A black Mustang sits at the end of the sidewalk. It has dark window tint and blacked-out rims.
It’s exactly what I would imagine Hollis driving.
“Is this your car?” I ask.
“No. I stole it.”
I look up at him to see him grinning.
“Yes, it’s my car. It was a graduation present of sorts.”
“It’s nice. It fits you.”
He seems to take this as it was intended—as a compliment. He smiles and opens the passenger’s side door.
“What’s your last name?” he asks.
“Mason.”
“Good last name,” he says.
What’s that even mean?
I climb into the car and halfway fall into the low-sitting seat. When I look up, he’s grabbing the window frame and looking down at me. The look in his eyes is full of mischief and innuendo, and I feel it fire through my veins.
“We’re just friends, right?” he asks.
I nod because I don’t trust my voice.
He nods too and closes the door.
“This is going to be a long night,” I whisper. “And much harder than I thought.”
Nine
Hollis
“I think this is where we're going,” I say as I pull into a driveway.
A large brick mansion towers in front of us.
I don’t know what I expected Lincoln Landry’s house to look like, but this exceeds any expectations I might’ve had.
The house is grand, the biggest fucking house I’ve ever seen, with clean black shutters and window boxes full of some sort of green plant that drapes over the sides of the boxes. Lawns extend along both sides of the structure that would be perfect for football games. To cap off the vision is a Tennessee Arrows team flag flying proudly from a flagpole near the front porch.
“Quite a place, huh?” I ask, shifting the car into park.
“Yeah. It is. Who lives here?”
“This guy used to play baseball for the Arrows,” I tell her. “That’s a professional baseball team. His name is—”
“Lincoln Landry.”
I raise a brow.
If this girl turns out to be a sports fan on top of being hot and funny and willing to spontaneously do shit like pretend to date a guy, then I’m done. I’m taking her home and calling it a night. I’ll be sure that the universe is pulling a trick on me, and that’s she’s really a dude. Or the host of some reality show. Or working for an ex-hookup and going to poison me.
“I know him,” she says simply.
“You like baseball?”
She sighs. “No. I know him. Personally. Well, sort of. My cousin Coy used to play baseball with Lincoln a long time ago. They were on the same high school team together and played ball all summer. I used to go watch with my aunt Siggy.”
“You know this guy? I mean, I know it’s a small world and all, but … really?”
She laughs. “It’s a small world, but it’s even smaller down here.” She studies me for a moment. “Where are you from, anyway? Your accent doesn’t scream Georgia.”
“I’m from Indiana. Land of corn and coal.”
“Sounds delightful,” she jokes.
I shift in my seat to face her. “So back to this you knowing Lincoln thing. You’re telling me that a girl I randomly met in a bar knows the professional baseball player I’m here to see. And that’s completely random?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“I beg to differ,” I say, still unable to process this new information. “Anyway, are you ready to go in?”
She holds up a finger. “Before we do that, I have a question for you.”
“Shoot, Shooter.”
She makes a face but continues. “Why are you coming here? Not that it’s crazy or anything, just … random, as you say. I’m just curious. Humor me.”
There’s a right or wrong answer here. I can see it in the curiosity in her eyes and the way she nibbles on the end of her fingernail.
“Well,” I begin. “He has a Catching-A-Care program that … I don’t know what all it does, honestly. But there’s a banquet I have to go to next week here in Savannah, and he invited me for dinner tonight to get to know me or something.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Not what I mean. Who are you, Hollis? In adjectives.”
I glance quickly at the front of the house before looking at her again. She sits next to me with her eyes squeezed shut, and if I was a betting man, I’d swear she was whispering a prayer.