Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“I'm already pissed off,” I said. “But you knew that already didn't you, Doyle? You want to keep pushing me? That's fine. Put your money where your mouth is.”
I didn't give a shit anymore. Not after everything that had happened in the last two weeks. Not after realizing that I’d somehow found the love of my life and lost her in the span of an hour.
“If you're so confident, why don't you put your money where your mouth is?” Doyle threw that back at me, and I rolled my eyes. “Put the Calgary team on the line. Or are you still too chickenshit?”
“Are you trying to get thrown out of the game?” Asher asked Doyle.
He huffed at him. “You can't throw me out. The only way to get me out of this game is if I lose my seat or I die. It's all written up in that delightful little contract/NDA that you guys made me sign at the beginning of this. Deal with it. If McClaren can't handle the bet, he should get out of this hand.”
“I can handle the bet just fine,” I said. “If you want Calgary on the line, put your own team up for grabs.” I figured that should be enough to get him to calm the fuck down. The NHL Bangor team was one of the only legit establishments he had in his pocket.
“Fine,” Doyle said, scribbling something down on a blank chip. “Bangor may suck, but at least we have the number one draft pick. That should be more than enough to stand against your Calgary team, if you have the balls to call.”
“Don't bet your team, Crossland,” Weston said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, it's not worth it,” Ethan said.
“Doyle is just trying to rile you,” Asher added.
I looked at Gareth, who silently told me to take him to the cleaners if I had the goods. Which I did.
I grabbed one of my own blank chips and wrote the Calgary team on it. A tiny piece of me screamed that this was a stupid idea, and that I should have learned my lesson betting things that I wasn't willing to lose.
But after everything?
I'd already lost the one thing I couldn't live without, and I would have traded my father's car if it would help me earn Aspen back.
I tossed in the chip, and Asher let out a heavy sigh as he dealt the last card on the river.
There was only one card that could beat me, and I highly doubted Doyle had it. I wrote down another bet for one of my favorite yachts.
Doyle instantly called, laughing as he declared he had a straight.
It was lower than mine.
I flipped over my higher straight, smirking at him.
Serenity grasped behind him as she read the cards, her eyes flickering to her father with just a little bit of fear as he slammed his fist down on the table.
“Son of a bitch,” Doyle snapped, glaring at me. He pushed away from the table. “You never bet first. How the fuck did you not bet on those cards? I could’ve had the ace-high straight.”
“You didn’t,” I said.
“Whatever,” he grumbled. “You're doing me a favor. Bangor is the worst NHL team in the league, and everybody knows it. Good luck with that. I need a fucking drink.” He stormed out of the room, snapping at Serenity to follow him when he made it to the door and she hadn't moved. His daughter quickly jumped out of her chair and hurried after him, the two of them disappearing.
Asher pushed the chips toward me, and while I was ecstatic to have won the hand, the one person I wanted to tell was Aspen, and no matter how many times I looked at that space by the girls where she should be, she wasn't there.
“Jesus,” Weston said. “That was close.”
“And reckless,” Ethan said. “I thought you learned not to bet things you weren't willing to lose?”
I shrugged. “I knew I had him.”
“And now you have two in NHL teams to deal with,” Asher said, shuffling the cards. “Want to talk about it?”
“There's nothing to talk about,” I said. “I know how to handle an NHL team, even one as poorly trained as Bangor. Same shit, different day.”
Ethan whistled. “Now I know you're lying. You love your Calgary team, and I know that you're already calculating how to fix Bangor. But you're brushing it off?”
Another shrug.
“You need to talk to her,” Wes finally said.
“I've tried. I can't make her think differently of herself. I've told you all this. She blames herself for what happened, and maybe I handled the situation poorly, but she doesn't want to hear from me.”
“Shit happens,” Ethan said. “I'll be the first one to say that. We make mistakes. It doesn't mean that you get an excuse to tap out, unless that's what you're looking for?”