Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Fuck off,” Miller grins. “Give me a few weeks, then I want a re-match.”
“You’re on,” I smirk. “But you better be ready before the season starts.”
“You know I will be,” he states before taking off with another puck and running some drills with the guys. He pushes them to their limits, the same way he’s always done, ever since college.
I continue for another few hours before getting off the ice and heading into the locker room. I have a quick shower and get myself dressed before pulling out my phone to call Sophie, only to find a new text. I groan, seeing the name across my screen.
Crazy Jill - Tank, I love you. I can’t wait to be together.
Fuck me. This chick is relentless. She’s been texting and calling for the past four years. It’s getting ridiculous. Sophie and I even make bets on how long she’ll wait between texts.
In the beginning, I would reply and tell her to stop, but that only spurred her on. Every time I block her number, she gets a new one. I’ve changed my number many times, but she always manages to find it. So now, I just let it go. She messages, and I ignore it. She calls, and I decline it. Everything’s been harmless so far, just an enthusiastic horn-dog fan who dreams of screwing her celebrity crush. Just another perk of the job.
Sophie will get a kick out of it though. She always wins these bets, and today isn’t any different. Loser cooks, but there’s one certain stipulation. He or she must be naked, and I’m not gonna lie, the thought of accidentally closing the oven on my cock lives rent free in my head and scares the shit out of me. Obviously I'm up tonight, but I don’t really mind it. All it means is Soph’s going to walk by a million times to grope me until I make her scream on the kitchen counter.
A smile comes to my face as I make my way out of the ice rink. I press on Sophie’s contact details and hold the phone up as I walk out to my truck, listening as it rings out. I get her voicemail and leave a quick message. “Babe, Crazy Jill messaged, so it’s on tonight. You better be ready. Call me back when you can.”
I hang up before trying her office number.
“Daily Star, this is Jen,” the receptionist greets.
“Jen. Hey, it’s Tank. Is Sophie around?”
“No, sorry,” she says with a slight cringe in her voice, telling me exactly what I need to know. “She hasn’t been in all morning.”
“Damn it,” I grunt. “What story is she chasing?”
“Ahh . . . let me have a look,” she says as I hear the familiar sound of her fingernails tapping away on the keyboard. “It says she’s working on that story about that guy who wanted to clear his name.”
“Nah, she wrapped that last week. The guy was guilty of that and more.”
“Shit, seriously?” she breathes, her tone hitching high. “I could have sworn he was innocent.” For fuck’s sake. Is this chick serious? How could she not know that the story was done by now? Sophie sent it in days ago. It’s probably in the middle of being printed for their latest issue. “Look,” she continues. “This is Sophie we’re talking about. If her last story is wrapped and she isn’t here, she’s probably following a new lead.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I tell her before hanging up and unlocking my truck. I jump in and get busy writing Sophie a text.
Tank - Babe, where are you? I hope you’re being safe. Don’t get yourself into any trouble.
I hit send and take off to grab lunch, and I’m back at the ice rink an hour later. “Dude,” Cameron, one of the guys on my team, says with a pitiful scoff. “Where’d you fuck off to? We’ve all been here sweating our asses off and you’re off taking a fucking break.”
“The fuck?” I grunt, fixing to put this motherfucker in his place. “I was here four hours before the rest of you, and as I recall, you were the last through the fucking door.”
“Chill out, bro,” he grunts, having the decency to look ashamed of himself, but then goes and puts his foot in it. “I was just fucking with you. No need to take it so hard.”
Not wasting my time on him, I walk straight past and dump my shit in the locker room before grabbing my water bottle and making my way up to the rink gym. After walking through the door, I come to a stop, finding Miller across the room. A grin pulls across my lips. Apparently, this morning’s smackdown has pulled his motivation right back to where it needs to be.
Miller was in the same position at the end of last season, both of us neck and neck to claim captainship for this coming season. But since Mia came along, he’s more than happy to take a backseat on this one. Even if he didn’t, I still would have fought for it because I’ve done my time. I fucking deserve it.