Match Fit: A Bad Boy Sports Romance by Amélie S. Duncan

Author:Amélie S. Duncan [Duncan, Amélie S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Sports
Publisher: Amélie S. Duncan
Published: 2016-10-10T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Brooke

“How are things with Dylan?” My mom asked on our Sunday call.

“Great, Mom,” I lied.

I hadn’t seen or heard from Dylan since we had sex after our Thursday night fight. Since then, I struggled to get through the rest of the week, including my weekend morning shifts at Colby’s and my rehearsal for my debut performance. I had to wonder if he had changed his mind, but Raymond would have told me. Was he seeing Nicola? The thought of him touching her the way he touched me made me crazy with jealousy.

“Tell her we received the money from the last loan I gave her. Has she settled her bank account?” my father shouted in the background, bringing me back to the call.

“Do you want to speak with her?” my mother said, her tone sharp. The line went quiet and my mother audibly sighed. “Your dad said—”

“I heard him, tell him I did,” I yelled back. “Thanks.”

“I’ve put the money aside for when she needs to borrow again,” he bellowed with sarcasm in his tone.

I hunched my shoulders. “I’m working now. Did you tell Father about my show?”

“Yes. He’s so happy and proud of you,” she said.

I paused to wait to hear him say as much, but he didn’t. “Oh. Okay. Well, I’ve got to go. Gemma and I are heading out for a celebration breakfast.”

“Alright. You coming to Seattle soon?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I mumbled. The New York City Football Club had a game there. I wasn’t sure if I was still going, but I hadn’t heard otherwise, yet.

“Good, I miss you, Brooke.”

“I miss you too.” I choked and hung up.

After a quick shower, I changed into a pair of skinny jeans and a scoop-neck top and my fancy sneakers. They turned out to be quite comfy. Once I was ready, I found Gemma standing by the door waiting for me.

“Hello, Pierbrooke!” she teased.

I rolled my eyes. “Did you make that up?”

“Nope. It’s online.” She showed me on her phone as we walked down the street to our favorite local restaurant. The paparazzi were out in numbers this morning.

I secured my dark glasses firmly in place and kept a tight smile as the photographers snapped our photos at the entrance. “Have you seen Dylan?”

“I bet you’d know if I had,” I joked and laughed.

“Did you two have a fight? Is that why he was out at the bar with another woman?”

My stomach muscles twisted, but I managed to keep my smile inside the doors. The hostess, whom we had seen many times, stepped forward and personally escorted us to a private booth in back. I didn’t have time to marvel at the change in treatment. I had my phone out and pressing hard on the keys as I typed a message to Dylan.

Brooke. S: What the hell are you doing out at a bar with some bimbo!

I got an immediate response.

Dylan M. Pierce: Cool your jets. I stopped at a bar for a drink a few nights ago. The press has hearsay, no photo.

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