Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Did we win?” she asked, feeling stupid for asking and even stupider for not knowing.
Her father chuckled. “Not yet. There’s five minutes left to the third.” He returned to his seat. “When the game’s done how about I take you for a quick tour of the arena? We’ve done a lot of renovations since you were last here. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” she lied.
Brody stepped out of the shower and drifted back to the main locker area. He pressed his hand to his side and winced at the jolt of pain that followed. A glance down confirmed what he already knew—that massive check from Valdek at the beginning of the second period had resulted in a large bruise that was slowly turning purple. Asshole.
“You took a shitty penalty,” Wyatt was grumbling to Jones when Brody reached the bench.
The captain’s normally calm voice contained a hint of antagonism, and his ice-blue eyes flashed with disapproval, also uncharacteristic. Brody wondered what was up Wyatt’s ass, but he preferred to stay out of quarrels between his teammates. Hockey players were wired to begin with, so minor disagreements often ended badly.
Derek rolled his eyes. “What are you complaining about? We won the fucking game.”
“It could’ve been a shutout,” Wyatt snapped. “You gave up a goal to Franks with that penalty. We might be up by two games, but we need to win two more to make it to the next round. There’s no room for mistakes.”
Still glowering, Mr. Serious strode out of the locker room, slamming the door behind him.
Jones tossed a what-the-hell’s-up-with-him? look in Brody’s direction, but he just shrugged, still determined to stay out of it.
Dressing quickly, he shoved his sweaty uniform into the locker, suddenly eager to get out of there.
“Later, boys,” he called over his shoulder.
Then he stepped into the brightly lit hallway and promptly collided with a warm wall of curves.
“I’m sor—” The apology died in his throat when he laid eyes on the woman he’d bodychecked.
Not just any woman, but the one he’d been thinking about—and getting hard over—all day.
A startled noise flew out of her mouth. “Brody?”
His surprise quickly transformed into a rush of satisfaction and pleasure. “Hayden.”
Looking her up and down, Brody was taken aback by the white silk blouse she wore and the knee-length floral-print skirt that swirled over her legs. A huge change from the bright yellow top and faded jeans she’d worn last night. In this getup she looked more like a prim professor and less like the passionate vixen who’d cried out his name so many times last night. The shift was disconcerting.
“What are…” Hayden’s eyes darted to the sign on the door beside them. “You play for the Warriors?”
“Sure do.” He lifted one brow. “I thought you said you weren’t a hockey fan.”
“I’m not. I…” Her voice trailed off.
What was she doing in this part of the arena? he suddenly wondered. Only folks with ID badges were allowed back here.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart,” boomed a male voice. “Shall we continue the tour—” Presley Houston broke out in a wide smile when he noticed Brody. “You played well out there tonight, Croft.”
“Thanks, Pres.” He looked from Hayden to Presley, wondering if he was missing something.
Then a hot spurt of jealousy erupted in his gut when he realized that Presley had called Hayden sweetheart.
Oh, fuck. Had he screwed around with Houston’s mistress?
A dose of anger joined the jealousy swirling through him. He eyed the woman he’d spent the night with, wanting to throttle her for hopping into bed with him when she was very much taken, but Presley’s next words quickly killed the urge and brought with them another shock.
“I see you’ve met my daughter Hayden.”
Eight
What was he doing here? And why hadn’t he told her he played for the Warriors?
Hayden blinked a few times. Maybe she was imagining his sleek, long body and devastatingly handsome face and the hair that curled under his ears as if he’d just stepped out of a steamy shower—
He’s not a hallucination. Deal with it.
All right, so her one-night stand was undeniably here, flesh and blood, and sexier than ever.
He also happened to be one of her dad’s players.
Was there a section in the league rule book about a player sleeping with the team owner’s daughter? She didn’t think so, but with all the rumors currently circulating about her father and the franchise, Hayden didn’t feel inclined to cause any more trouble for her dad.
Apparently, Brody felt the same way.
“It’s nice to meet you, Hayden.” His voice revealed nothing, especially not the fact that they were already very much… acquainted.
She shook his hand, almost shivering at the feel of his warm, calloused fingers. “Charmed,” she said lightly.
Charmed? Had she actually just said that?
Brody’s eyes twinkled, confirming that the idiotic reply had indeed come out of her mouth.