Hard Hit (St. Louis Mavericks #5) Read Online Brenda Rothert

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Sports Tags Authors: Series: St. Louis Mavericks Series by Brenda Rothert
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
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BOONE: Then I’ll see you then.

JOLIE: See you tonight.

I looked up from my phone and smiled.

I’d put Joey to sleep on my bed so he wouldn’t be disturbed by me typing away on my laptop, and I was buried in all things microbiology when a soft knock on the door made me jump.

Boone.

I got up quickly and fluffed my hair, wiping my hands on my jeans.

Why was I nervous?

He was just here to pick up Joey.

It wasn’t like anything was going on between us.

But my grandmother’s words had resonated with me and I realized that I’d been hiding behind science and my education for so long, at some point I’d stopped living. Even when I’d been with Jarvis, my mind had always been on my studies, my PhD, things like that. Since the breakup, I’d added hockey to my arsenal of ways to distract myself from life in general, but deep down I recognized that something was missing.

I hadn’t been able to articulate it until today, but Boone made me want to feel again. It made no sense, but it seemed like I should try to find out why. We’d never finished our conversation from that night at the rink, and I wanted to.

“Hi.” I opened the door and motioned him inside.

“Hey.” He looked road weary and slightly tousled but deliciously hot in the suit he’d obviously been traveling in. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the small room as he stood there looking around.

“Joey asleep?” he asked.

“Yeah. I put him in my bed so I could potentially watch TV or something, but I’ve been working.”

“I really appreciate you stepping up like this.”

“It’s not a problem.” I cocked my head. “You look wiped. Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich. Nothing fancy, but I have turkey and Swiss, a ciabatta roll…”

He met my gaze hesitantly. “I could eat. You sure you don’t mind? It’s late and you’ve had Joey all day.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a sandwich. Come on.” I led him into my tiny kitchen and he perched on one of the two barstools that made up what I called the dining room, even though it was nothing but an extended counter that overlooked the main room. I got out lunch meat, cheese, mayonnaise, and mustard and put everything in front of him before slicing a roll in half and putting it on a plate.

“Something to drink? I think I have water and one bottle of Corona, but you’re welcome to it.”

He chuckled. “Water’s good. Thanks.”

I got him a bottle of water while he made his sandwich and then we were quiet for a few minutes.

“This really hit the spot,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and downing the rest of his water. “I slept on the plane and didn’t get dinner. I was hungrier than I thought.”

“Glad I could help.” I put the dish and knife he’d used in the sink, surprised to find him behind me as I turned.

“Hey.”

Holy shit, he was really close.

Close enough to catch the faint scent of a woodsy aftershave.

“I want to explain what happened when I dropped you off that night,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on mine.

“I understand,” I whispered.

“No, you don’t.” He lifted a hand, gently brushing my hair back from my face. “I like you. You’re smart and beautiful and really brave. Walking out on your wedding that day took guts, which is something I respect.”

“I suspect there’s a but coming,” I murmured, unable to tear my gaze away from his.

“Your father,” he said quietly. “He’s been crystal clear that his daughter is off-limits, and I’m not sure that’s a line I can cross.”

“I’m an adult,” I said. “A grown, independent woman who can make her own choices and decisions about who she spends her time with. Dad is going to have to get over this need to choose a husband for me. I can’t live my life like that and I don’t think you should let him control you either. There’s no reason we can’t be friends. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” A faint smile played on his lips as he continued to look down at me. “What kind of whatever are we talking about?”

“This kind.” With my grandmother’s words zinging through my subconscious and giving me courage, I leaned up and lightly pressed my lips to his.

“Mmm. I like your idea of whatever.” He slid his hands around my waist, drawing me closer. His fingers were gentle, holding me in place as he slanted his head over mine. Our lips parted this time, coming together with a sensual mixture of caution and curiosity.

I’d never made the first move like that before, but it felt right with Boone.

Kissing him was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. He was in no rush, brushing his lips across mine, across my cheek, under my chin, as if he could stand here and kiss me all night. And yet, there was an underlying urgency that left no doubt about his desire for me.


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