Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Every night. I have to be there.” He lets out a heavy groan. “Once I get in, things will ease up.”
Right. He’s completely bought into the party-every-night lifestyle.
“Hope you know what you’re doing.”
He nods and looks away from me.
Instead of partying, I’ve been on the ice a lot. Studying. Running. Working out. I’ve met up with Julia several times. I’ve taken her to Bell Mountain, the lake, even a historic cabin on the outskirts of town.
Reece walks into the kitchen in an orange speedo and opens a kitchen cabinet and pulls out some cereal.
“Are you bringing breakfast in bed?” a female voice calls from his room.
I smirk at him and he shrugs. “I have a friend over. We may be loud.”
I give Boone a slight head nod and he blinks, then catches on and moves to the bookcase. I chat with Reece, moving in closer to him as I block his view of Boone. I ask him who he’s got in his room and how they hooked up. I must step in too close, because his eyes flare as he catches on and runs to the den to get away. His socks slip on the hardwood and he slams into the back of the couch. His feet fly over his head as he tumbles to the floor. Boone dives on top of him and puts his hand on his head.
“I pass the puck,” Boone shouts.
“Fucking socks,” Reece cries out in defeat.
“Belongs to you now,” Boone says with relish.
“Concur,” we say in unison.
Boone hands the puck to Reece and they climb to their feet.
Reece glares at me. “You were working with him? I thought we had a pact.”
I laugh. “Classic prisoner’s dilemma. I chose to turn you in and work with the jailer to save my own skin.”
I leave them and head outside, a grin on my face. I’m not sure if it is the hijinks with the boys or hanging with Julia.
When I pull up to her house, she comes out smiling, and I wonder if it’s for the photography or me. She’s wearing flared jeans with daisies on them and a cropped pink sweater. Her hair is swept up in a high ponytail, her lips full and pink.
“Hey,” I say when she slides in. She’s wearing a new perfume, something floral and light. “Where to this Sunday?”
She packs her equipment on the floor. “I was thinking about doing something different. Somewhere inside?” She gazes out at the dark clouds. “It looks like rain. I haven’t done much with indoor photography. Maybe I should start.”
“Somewhere inside. Got it.”
“You do?”
“Yep. Leave it to me.”
Shifting gears, I drive us to the perfect place.
She wrinkles her nose when we arrive. “What is this?”
“My domain.” I wink.
“An ice-skating rink?”
I scoff. “No. Hockey rink. Holy shit, you’ve never been?”
She laughs, the sound rather embarrassed. “No.”
“I’m wounded. Come on. It’ll be empty.”
She wraps her fingers around the door handle but hesitates. “Yeah, but what do I take pictures of in there?”
“I don’t know. Me?” I flex a bicep. “That is, if you can catch me with that lens of yours.”
“I don’t skate. I need to be close to a subject. Maybe the equipment? Hmmm.” Her forehead furrows.
“Or . . . if you’re more adventurous . . .”
“Skate? You want me to skate?” She shakes her head. “Nope. Big no. I had roller skates when I was seven and broke my arm.”
“Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not,” she mutters defensively.
I chuckle. “You’re a chicken.”
She opens the truck door. “You’re trying to goad me.”
“And it’s working.”
She smirks as we get out and head to the front door.
I use my captain’s key to open the place up. Turning on all the lights, I lead her through the men’s locker room, grab my skates, and head out to the home bench.
“You can put your stuff there.” I lace up my skates.
She sets her things down, takes out the camera, and pulls out the lens. “When did you start skating?”
“I was born on skates. We have a lake on our property. Kurt used to take me out there. He was a better skater than I’ll ever be.”
Better at everything, actually. He never loved hockey, though. Academics was his ticket.
She gives me a soft look. “That sounds like a good memory to hang on to.”
I grew up jealous of the attention my brother got, but most of the time I adored him. Memories of him teaching me to skate is one of those. “Yeah.”
We reach the rink, and I back out slowly.
She watches me, her eyes big as saucers. “You’re good.”
I laugh. “This is nothing. You should see me with a stick and a puck.”
She leans over the wall and aims her camera at me.
“Which reminds me, when are you coming to a game?”
“Haven’t considered it.”
My hand goes to my heart. “Vicious girl.”
She focuses the camera, a small smile on her lips.