Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
But just in case I had a sliver of a doubt, Josh promptly lays a poker chip in my palm. “Hey, Heidi Kumquat. Guess what?” Josh says, a naughty smile dancing on his lips. “I hear the MVP of the Super Bowl has a thing for blondes—and a really big dick.”
Six
Kat
“God, they’re manly, aren’t they?” Henn asks, surveying the action on the field. “Neanderthals, all of them.”
“You sure you don’t wanna play with them?” I ask, linking my arm in Henn’s. “It looks pretty fun.”
“You think that looks fun? Ha! No, I came to this barbaric game just to see you, Kitty Kat.” Henn beams a smile at me that melts my heart like butter in a microwave.
“Aw, thanks, Henn.”
Josh races past us on the field, cradling the football in his muscular arm. He evades a potential tackler, and then another, progressing at least twenty yards before being stopped.
Henn and I cheer like crazy and Josh looks over at us, pumping his fist.
“So what’s new, Henny?” I ask. “You been working a lot?”
“Yeah, I just got back from D.C., working on our little case with the feds.” He snickers. “Agent Eric asked me if you’re single, bee tee dubs.”
“What’d you tell him?”
Henn motions to Josh on the field. “Well, duh—I told him you’re madly in love with the greatest guy ever.”
I bite my lip but I don’t deny it.
Henn grabs the “press badge” hanging around my neck. “Speaking of which, what the heck is this? ‘Heidi Kumquat, Reporter for ESPN’? Josh asked me for your Oksana photo but he didn’t tell me why he wanted it. Are you two crazy kids finding new and creative ways to take ol’ one-eye to the optometrist or what?”
I decide to ignore his question. “Speaking of people falling madly in love, how’s it going with Hannah Banana Montana Milliken?” I ask.
Henn’s face lights up. “Oh my God, she’s incredible. She keeps doing this bizarre thing no other woman has ever done in the history of time—she’s genuinely nice to me. Like, all the time.”
“Wow. Cray,” I say.
“Un-sane,” Henn agrees, smiling adorably. “Did Hannah say anything to you about how things are going between us?”
“Yeah, she said you’re the man of her dreams.”
“Are you teasing me right now? Kat, please don’t tease me.”
“Henn, I swear on a stack of bibles. That’s exactly what she said. ‘The man of her dreams.’”
Henn looks like he could keel over with joy.
“Aw, you so deserve this, Henny,” I say. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Motherfucker!” Josh yells on the field after unsuccessfully trying to catch a long pass in the end zone. “That was my fault, bro,” Josh shouts to his quarterback, patting his chest. He begins jogging back toward the line of scrimmage, but makes a sudden, lurching detour toward me on the sideline. With a loud growl, Josh throws his arms around my waist and twirls me around, making me shriek. “Hey there, Heidi Kumquat,” Josh bellows. He lays an abrupt kiss on my mouth. “You know I’m trying to impress you, right?”
“You are?” I ask demurely.
“Is it working?”
“Definitely.”
Josh laughs and trots away, leaving me swooning in his wake. Or, wait, maybe I’m not swooning—maybe I’m just queasy from being unexpectedly twirled around. I clamp my hand over my mouth, suddenly feeling the urge to heave.
“Hey, you okay?” Henn asks.
I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my churning stomach. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I squeak out.
“You look like you feel sick,” Henn says.
I swallow hard. “I’m just a little hung over, that’s all.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Henn returns his attention to the action on the field, apparently completely convinced by my explanation.
For the next thirty minutes, Henn and I watch the action on the field, cheering and screaming as Josh and his friends play flag football as fiercely as any gladiators in ancient Rome, and when the game is finally done, Josh jogs over to Henn and me on the sideline. I’m expecting Josh to pick me up and whirl me around like he did earlier, but, instead, he whispers something to Henn, winks at me, and silently heads toward a tunnel on the opposite side of the field.
“Where’s he going?” I ask Henn, admiring Josh’s supremely bitable ass as he jogs away.
“To the locker room,” Henn says. “He asked me to bring you there in five minutes.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, trying my best to sound nonchalant.
Henn shoots me a snarky look. “Josh had a message for you, bee tee dubs. He told me to tell Heidi Kumquat he’s such a huge fan of your reporting for ESPN, he’s decided to grant you an exclusive post-game interview.’”
Seven
Kat
“Bye, Henn,” I say, hugging him outside the locker room.
“Enjoy your optometry appointment,” Henn says, snickering.
“Hey, man,” I say. “Regular eye exams are critical to maintaining peak visual health.”
Henn laughs. “Oh my God. You truly are the male version of Josh, you know that?”