Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“A hockey coach?” She frowned in the passenger seat. “All I know about hockey is you put the black thingy into the net.”
“That thingy is a puck, and not necessarily hockey but anything. Tennis coach. Life coach. Figure skating coach. You’ve perfected tough love without being an asshole about it.”
“Thanks,” she laughed. “I think.”
We pulled up to the pickup station and I left Sasha and Dixie in the car, finally calm after the company’s earlier mistake. Five minutes later, my expression was thunderous as I stomped back to the car. “The entire order is wrong.”
Sasha frowned. “It’ll be faster together, but I think you should stay in the car while Dixie and I do the shopping.”
“I can’t ask you to do that again.”
“You’re not asking, I’m volunteering. Do you have a better plan?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Then you stay here and I’ll rush through the store and scan everything again. Let’s hope this time it works.”
She was right. Of course, she was right. “Fine.” I watched the swing of her hips as she moved to the store’s entrance, angry that Jack had put these restraints on me. Don’t do it, my conscience warned after about fifteen minutes of sitting in the car and doing nothing.
At the twenty-minute mark, I went inside and found Sasha chatting with Dixie who smiled and babbled as if she understood.
“What can I do?”
Sasha let out a shocked gasp and turned, punching my shoulder before she could stop herself. “Sorry, but stop sneaking up on me!”
I smiled and rubbed the spot she’d hit. “Nice jab.”
“Thanks. Self-defense classes.” She turned back to Dixie and pushed the cart forward. “What’re you doing here?”
“Helping.”
“This is a bad idea,” she said in a sing-song voice meant for Dixie. “But he’s gonna do what he’s gonna do, am I right?”
Dixie’s smile grew and she responded with a loud series of shrieks and gargles.
“See? Even Dixie knows.” Her playful smile made me relax as we went up and down the aisles, replacing every single item that had been in the shopping cart just last night.
Being with Sasha was easy. She was funny and easy to talk to, and she wasn’t at all in awe of me for being a celebrity.
“No one even notices me,” I assured her when she spotted two young women staring in our direction. “They just see a good-looking man.”
She laughed. “Or maybe they see a very familiar good-looking man.”
“Then they would come and ask for a photo or an autograph,” I told her honestly. Fans were never shy about approaching and asking for what they wanted, no matter how ill-timed their appearance might be. But it was because of the fans I got paid so well to do something I loved.
“Do you ever go out, like, incognito? With a wig and a big nose and sunglasses?”
I laughed. “No. Given my size, it’s difficult to hide who I am most of the time.” Sometimes I was confused for a football player or a superhero, but people always assumed I was somebody they knew. Dixie began to fuss and instinctively, I unfastened her and held her close as we finished the shopping.
“Bummer. I would love that.” At my stunned expression, she laughed. “That’s the one thing I think would be cool about being famous, just dressing up in disguise to go fill up the gas tank or grab midnight snacks.”
“That’s what you think would be cool about being famous? Not the adoration?”
“Ugh, no,” she shuddered. “I’d be happy for people who know me to adore me, but strangers? No offense, that feels creepy.”
“It is a bit. But I’m an athlete so I know why they love me. I win games and that gives them bragging rights over other hockey fans.”
“Fair point. I guess that would be pretty cool to have people fist-bumping you at the grocery store. Good game,” she said in a gruff voice meant to be a hockey fan. “Totally sick goal, Alex.”
I stopped and just stared at this strange woman. She stopped and looked up at me, her blue eyes serious for a beat before she erupted in a fit of laughter that definitely drew a few stares. “You are a strange, strange woman Sasha.”
“Thanks,” she replied with a genuine smile, not at all offended by my assessment of her.
She was a strange woman, though. Instead of sitting inside the cool truck with Dixie, she kept an eye on her while she helped the workers load everything into the vehicle, ordering them around as if she was the boss. Every last one of them obeyed her commands with a smile.
“Thank you guys so much for the assist. I really appreciate it.” She beamed that wide, full-lipped smile at them and I knew they would have followed her into battle. Hell, I might’ve gone with them.
On the trip home, all I could think about was that shopping for baby items was the most fun I’d ever had with a woman outside the bedroom. And wasn’t that a sad state of affairs?