Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Taylor: Anyway, have fun at your retreat. Let’s plan dinner when you get back.
Me: Sounds good.
Taylor: Bye!
I toss my phone to the side and finish unpacking my suitcase. Only when I have everything where it needs to go do I finally take a few minutes to relax. Even from the ground floor of the resort, we have a beautiful view of the lake, as well as the popular Osage Beach area off in the distance.
Staring at this sight gets me thinking about the views I hope to enjoy someday with a house of my own. In Springfield, I was in a fancy apartment, and the view was of other fancy buildings nearby. At my brother’s, the houses are far enough apart that you don’t really see your neighbors’ houses, especially with the privacy fences.
But staring at this has me thinking about water, like a running creek or a pond, and lots of trees. Maybe a rope swing or a swing set out back, where kids can run and play. Quiet. Tranquil. Peaceful.
A sudden question flashes in my mind.
I wonder what Brock wants to see when he looks out his back window.
“Tell me all about dating a professional athlete,” Mia asks from across the table, her eyes alive with excitement.
We’re all sitting together, the eight of us enjoying a drink before the appetizers arrive, and right now, all eyes are focused on me. “Oh, well, it’s not any different from dating anyone else,” I say, trying to brush off the attention, but of course, no one is having it.
“Not any different? You’re dating Brock Williams! He’s crazy hot and makes like fourteen million alone on his endorsements,” she replies, sipping her fruity cocktail drink.
I feel my cheeks blush as I reach for my glass of wine. “I do agree with the handsome part,” Pat says from the far end of the table. She’s the oldest member of our team, a grandma of three young grandkids, who has been married since she was eighteen.
The women all nod, while the guys just seem to be more interested in the football part. “How does he like his new team? They’re doing well this year. I don’t think the Ramblers have gone three and oh since the nineties.”
“Ninety-four,” Dwayne confirms.
“He seems to like it,” I reply awkwardly, shifting a little in my seat.
“He’s doing well. Six receptions in nine passes last game, with one TD. Twice he ran for more than twenty yards per carry. I think it’s safe to say, if he keeps this up, he’s looking at Pro-Bowl contention,” Dwayne confirms, clearly above par on football stats.
“Yeah, that touchdown against Chicago two weeks ago was money,” Nathan adds, lifting his drink. “Nothing like scoring against your former team.”
“Plus, he’s dated Gisele Sorenson,” Tyler says with a low whistle. As the only single guy in the group, he quickly turns the conversation toward that part of Brock’s life that was always front and center in the media. “Talk about a babe. Did you see that swimsuit spread for that lingerie company?”
I flash him a quick grin, not really knowing how to reply or if one is really required at this point. Fortunately, I’m saved from answering when he continues.
“I bet it’s tough dating someone of his stature. I mean, the man is followed with cameras and has women throwing themselves at him, literally, everywhere he goes. You’re a very brave and trusting woman,” Tyler throws out there with a laugh.
I force another smile as I reach for my glass of alcohol. I down almost half the contents, wishing we were talking about anything other than Brock. No, that’s not true. I love talking about Brock. I hate the doubt that just crept into my mind at hearing the comments.
But that’s all they are.
Comments.
I trust Brock, even when he’s several states away. We may not have been dating very long, but I know he’s one of the good guys. I don’t have to worry about Gisele, or any other woman for that matter.
“Let’s leave poor Joey alone,” Jennifer chimes in. “We don’t want to scare her off her first week with too many questions.”
I throw her a grateful smile and feel myself start to relax as the conversation quickly turns to a recent ad for tires published in a newspaper by a competitor. I listen to the ideas thrown out about how we would have done it differently, making mental notes about the dynamics and chemistry of the group as a whole.
The rest of the dinner goes well, as we try not to talk about work, but fail miserably. In fact, if anything, this dinner did wonders for sparking a few new ideas for upcoming campaigns our team is scheduled to work on. By the time we all leave the restaurant and head to our rooms, I have the biggest smile on my face and can’t wait to get to work on some of them.