Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I walk up to him with my hand out to shake. “Coach Kantor.”
If he’s surprised I know his name, he doesn’t show it. Merely pumps my hand exuberantly. “This is quite the surprise. Great to meet you, Camden.”
Tossing my hand up to the bleachers, I say, “I was watching your practice.”
Delight spreads across his face. “That’s an honor. What did you think?”
I glance around, seeing most of the parents who were here for this practice have left but others are heading up the bleachers for the next set of kids. When I turn my eyes back, I ask, “Can I give it to you honestly?”
His face shutters and his arms cross over his chest defensively. “Sure.”
“You’ve got a mix of kids. For some this is for fun, while others will want to be competitive. You’ve got two groups who need different coaching styles, but you’re only using one.”
“The parents who put their kids in this program do so wanting me to build them into travel hockey players.”
“Not all the parents. Some don’t really know what they want at this age. Now granted, you might have a majority of children who are looking to excel—”
“Those are the ones who matter,” he says tersely.
“They all matter,” I reply, a hard edge to my tone.
The man narrows his eyes. “Do you have a kid on this team?”
“No.” I don’t say anything else and I’m not about to give up Travis.
“Then you have no say so.” He sticks his hand out for me to shake, indicating the conversation is over. “I appreciate you watching but I’ve got the next practice to get ready for.”
“Sure thing, Coach,” I say with a polite smile, shaking his hand.
Dismayed by his lack of openness but not surprised, I know that this man isn’t going to change. The best I can do is give Travis some advice on how to adapt.
I pull my keys from my pocket as I exit the facility, twirling them on my finger. I consider calling Danica but I’m not sure this is something to discuss by phone.
Instead, I send her a quick text. Talked to the coach. Mind if I come by to update you?
Her reply is nearly instantaneous. Of course. You’ll be just in time for lunch.
CHAPTER 12
Danica
When Camden knocks on my front door, I have to restrain myself from glancing in the ornate mirror hanging over the couch as I walk by. I don’t need to be checking how I look, because I’m not trying to impress him.
Liar.
This weird little obsession I have going with Camden as a man, and not as a friend, is driving me nuts. If I’m honest, I think this all started when he showed up to shovel my snow and unfortunately has changed the way I look at him.
He’s so damn handsome in a carefree, messy way. It’s the shaggy hair that’s never quite the same on any given day and the facial hair that’s more than a shadow but less than a beard. He’s got the hockey player vibe going, which I’m not a stranger to, but he also looks like he’d be a good lumberjack. Throw him in a flannel, some jeans and put an ax in his hand, and well… that is a nice fantasy.
I can blame this on two things.
One, I might be a little lonely. Not only for companionship because I have very good friends to lean on who make my life interesting. But I’m talking about as a woman. I loved sex with my husband. The act of it, the intimacy, the curl-your-toes pleasure. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve had sex and now I’m thinking about it.
The other blame can be cast directly on Kiera. While I had thought Camden hot, I hadn’t thought much past that. At the party last night, she had enough alcohol in her to say some crazy-ass things.
Little ideas planted in my head that I know she did purposely.
We were standing at one of the high tops, watching Camden and Bain play pool. I hadn’t had a chance to hang with Camden at that point as he was the guest of honor and lots of people wanted his attention.
Kiera made a noise deep in her throat when Bain bent over the table to ready his shot. He was on the far end facing us, and she growled low to me out of the side of her mouth. “Mmm… look at those arms.”
I was confused at first. Arms? I mean… what about them?
But then I looked closer and realized what she was saying. Bain was wearing a black, long-sleeve T-shirt that fit him like a second skin and as he stretched over the green felt and lined up his shot—one arm extended, the other cocked back—you could indeed tell he’s a well-sculpted man.
And, of course, I immediately thought of Camden. At that moment as he watched Bain, he leaned casually on his pool cue and talked smack to his opponent. Camden’s shirt was not tight like Bain’s—rather a button-down that fit him nicely, though not like a glove. But he was wearing a long-sleeve athletic shirt the day he helped me in the garage. Moving all those boxes had him out of his Titans’ sweatshirt, and yeah… I noticed how well the top fit him and I could tell how much he works out.