Read Online STROKED (The Stroked Series Book 1) by Meghan Quinn - Free Book Online
Authors: Meghan Quinn
Tags: General Fiction
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steel-colored eyes look that much more exotic.
Ignoring the urge to lean in and kiss her from how adorable she looks, I say, “I already have my travel accommodations, but I’m sure you and Bellini will need to book something. Production should be willing to cover the expenses; you should see who you can talk to about that. Bellini has an entourage I’m sure she will need there.”
“Pocket has to go and so does Melon. I refuse to be seen on camera if I am forced to do my own hair and makeup,” Bellini cuts in.
“I will check into that.” Paisley writes down some more notes.
“As for the rest of the season, assuming I will make it past Trials—”
“You will.” Placing her hand on my arm, Paisley calms my already raging nerves. Warmth sears through me, running wickedly through my veins, settling my racing heart, and amping up my libido. I glance down at her small hand, holding a pen between her fingers, while caressing my arm. It’s a sweet, and kind gesture, one I’m sure she is offering as a friend, an employee, but I want it to be so much fucking more.
“Thanks.” I cough, clearing my throat. “After that, there is training camp in San Antonio, July 17 th to 24 th , which then extends into the International Training Camp from the 24 th to August 1 st . Then the Olympics in Rio de Janeiro. Opening ceremonies are August 5 th .”
“Wait.” Bellini holds up her hand. “You’re going to be gone that entire time? How the hell am I supposed to shoot this reality show with you at your little summer camps?”
Fed up with her disrespect toward my sport, I say, “You can either go, or you can sit on your ass at home, petting your dog’s hair, and watch reruns of your dad getting humped repeatedly by a pig.”
She shoots up out of her chair and grips the edges of the table, as if she’s about to Hulk-style flip it over. “How dare you speak of my father that way? It wasn’t his fault that Billy Jo Inbred wasn’t conducting his job properly and keeping the horny bacon slices away from my father.” She slings her purse over her shoulder and raises her chin. “I don’t need to sit here and listen to you disgrace my family. When you want to apologize, you know where I will be. Mauve, for Christ’s sake, make sure your hair is brushed when I see you later today. I refuse to be seen with an ill-informed hipster making a poor attempt on dreadlocks.”
The waitress walks up just in time with Bellini’s drink for her departure. Without thanking the woman, Bellini grabs it from her hand, takes one sip of it and then scowls. “Did you spit in this? It has a distinct flavor of human saliva.” The waitress shakes her head. “We will see about that. Where’s your manager?”
Stomping her three-inch heels one right in front of the other, her sweater set flaps in the breeze as she retreats to the back of the restaurant.
Relieved, I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair. Christ, that woman is going to be the death of me. Right about now, the sponsorships and deals the reality show will bring in don’t seem viable enough for me to stick around to deal with her bullshit. Too bad I already signed the contract. I just mentally pray Bellini isn’t going to fuck with my last chance at the gold.
“Um, should we continue?” Paisley asks, looking uncomfortable and running her fingers through her hair, clearly affected by Bellini’s comment.
Without thinking, I stop her hand from combing through her hair and hold it while I scan her features with affection. Her breath hitches in her throat, her tongue slowly licks her lips, and her eyes bore holes into my soul.
A side smile peeking past my lips, I say, “I don’t know about you, but I was looking forward to my pancakes. Eat breakfast with me.”
Gently, she retreats her hand away from mine and straightens the napkin on her lap while taking a deep breath.
Did she feel the same way I felt? The burning need to get to know each other, mentally and
Ignoring the urge to lean in and kiss her from how adorable she looks, I say, “I already have my travel accommodations, but I’m sure you and Bellini will need to book something. Production should be willing to cover the expenses; you should see who you can talk to about that. Bellini has an entourage I’m sure she will need there.”
“Pocket has to go and so does Melon. I refuse to be seen on camera if I am forced to do my own hair and makeup,” Bellini cuts in.
“I will check into that.” Paisley writes down some more notes.
“As for the rest of the season, assuming I will make it past Trials—”
“You will.” Placing her hand on my arm, Paisley calms my already raging nerves. Warmth sears through me, running wickedly through my veins, settling my racing heart, and amping up my libido. I glance down at her small hand, holding a pen between her fingers, while caressing my arm. It’s a sweet, and kind gesture, one I’m sure she is offering as a friend, an employee, but I want it to be so much fucking more.
“Thanks.” I cough, clearing my throat. “After that, there is training camp in San Antonio, July 17 th to 24 th , which then extends into the International Training Camp from the 24 th to August 1 st . Then the Olympics in Rio de Janeiro. Opening ceremonies are August 5 th .”
“Wait.” Bellini holds up her hand. “You’re going to be gone that entire time? How the hell am I supposed to shoot this reality show with you at your little summer camps?”
Fed up with her disrespect toward my sport, I say, “You can either go, or you can sit on your ass at home, petting your dog’s hair, and watch reruns of your dad getting humped repeatedly by a pig.”
She shoots up out of her chair and grips the edges of the table, as if she’s about to Hulk-style flip it over. “How dare you speak of my father that way? It wasn’t his fault that Billy Jo Inbred wasn’t conducting his job properly and keeping the horny bacon slices away from my father.” She slings her purse over her shoulder and raises her chin. “I don’t need to sit here and listen to you disgrace my family. When you want to apologize, you know where I will be. Mauve, for Christ’s sake, make sure your hair is brushed when I see you later today. I refuse to be seen with an ill-informed hipster making a poor attempt on dreadlocks.”
The waitress walks up just in time with Bellini’s drink for her departure. Without thanking the woman, Bellini grabs it from her hand, takes one sip of it and then scowls. “Did you spit in this? It has a distinct flavor of human saliva.” The waitress shakes her head. “We will see about that. Where’s your manager?”
Stomping her three-inch heels one right in front of the other, her sweater set flaps in the breeze as she retreats to the back of the restaurant.
Relieved, I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair. Christ, that woman is going to be the death of me. Right about now, the sponsorships and deals the reality show will bring in don’t seem viable enough for me to stick around to deal with her bullshit. Too bad I already signed the contract. I just mentally pray Bellini isn’t going to fuck with my last chance at the gold.
“Um, should we continue?” Paisley asks, looking uncomfortable and running her fingers through her hair, clearly affected by Bellini’s comment.
Without thinking, I stop her hand from combing through her hair and hold it while I scan her features with affection. Her breath hitches in her throat, her tongue slowly licks her lips, and her eyes bore holes into my soul.
A side smile peeking past my lips, I say, “I don’t know about you, but I was looking forward to my pancakes. Eat breakfast with me.”
Gently, she retreats her hand away from mine and straightens the napkin on her lap while taking a deep breath.
Did she feel the same way I felt? The burning need to get to know each other, mentally and
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