Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Her eyes slide my way, and she glares. “Of course I’m not prejudiced.”
“Then say yes to a drink. It’s not complicated.” But then something occurs to me. “Unless you’ve got a boyfriend.”
Ava scoffs. “I don’t have a boyfriend. But I’m sure you can do better.”
“Who are you to judge what I can and can’t do?”
She ignores me and keeps typing, but I won’t be deterred. “What’s your last name?”
That startles her, and she cuts me a side eye before answering, “Cavanaugh.”
I pull out my phone, navigate to Contacts, and start a new one. “Ava Cavanaugh. And your phone number?”
Those eyes lift to meet mine, her head tipped slightly. “Really?”
“Yes, really. We’re going out for a drink.”
She just stares at me.
I stare right back, refusing to blink. “Phone number. Now.”
She releases a frustrated breath and snatches my phone from my hand. “Fine.”
I watch as she types in a number before handing it back to me. I stare at it dubiously. “You didn’t just give me a fake number, did you? Because I know where you work, so it will be difficult for you to ghost me.”
Ava laughs and shakes her head. She makes a shooing motion. “Go away. You’re bothering me.”
I love that she’s not starstruck. I love that she tells me to go away. “I’ll call you later to nail down the date.”
She doesn’t acknowledge that, and I know she’s doing it to annoy me. I’m not about to let her have the last laugh, though.
I step up to her table, move in very close, causing her head to tip back to look at me in question. “Just wanted to see those beautiful eyes one more time before I left.”
Said eyes flare wide at the compliment, and her cheeks glow pink again.
I wink at her and bend a little closer. “Now that’s how you flirt. Call you later.”
Turning, I walk out of the shop feeling pretty damn good about that encounter.
CHAPTER 3
Ava
What in the hell are you doing, Ava?
It’s a question I’ve asked myself over and over again since Cannon invited me out for drinks the day before yesterday.
The freaking head coach of the Pittsburgh Titans.
As I stare in the bathroom mirror, my face flushed from having one too many dirty martinis, I ask myself the question one more time. I still don’t have an answer.
I was confounded that Cannon wanted to go out with me. I’d taken our silly flirting and short conversations over the past weeks as nothing more than him being outgoing and gregarious and me being a good representative of my company.
Okay, that’s not exactly true. I’ve been a little entranced by the man, not only because he’s famous, gorgeous, and rich, but because he’s sort of goofy in his attempts at flirting.
Other than his rather forward comment that he finds my eyes beautiful, not once did I think he was interested in me. Our bantering has been nothing more than some fun in our hectic mornings.
But here I am, having accepted his invitation, now supremely buzzed—even mildly drunk—and having one of the best times I can remember.
We were only going to meet for a drink. We both have to be at work early tomorrow morning, so I insisted we meet at this bar. My job as the assistant manager at The Grind is to handle opening the store, and the Titans have a home game tomorrow that he has to be in bright and early to get ready for. I know Cannon lives near The Grind, and my place is a ways out (and not in the nicest neighborhood), so I wanted to make it convenient for him.
Plus, I didn’t want him to see my crappy apartment.
I suggested a bar right around the corner from the coffee shop. It was a bit of a pain in the ass for me as I had about a four-hour window between when I got off work at three p.m. and when we decided to meet at seven. I have a forty-five-minute commute each way, but I didn’t mind.
It was only supposed to be for a drink. But one drink turned into two, along with appetizers, because we were having such a good time.
Two drinks turned into three because jokes abounded, and with alcohol, the flirting actually got better on both sides. I haven’t laughed this hard in ages, but our deeper discussions have held me captive.
Just a few minutes ago, Cannon looked at his watch and grimaced. “It’s almost ten. Still an early night for most people, but not for us early risers.”
“Speak for yourself,” I snickered. “I graduated from college a mere four years ago, so I’m still at the age I can do all-nighters and be fresh the next day.”
It was a backhanded slap at his age, which I learned tonight is thirty-six. I had a good time teasing him about our age difference, which really… nine years isn’t much at all. In fact, my ex was a few years older than Cannon.