Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“I have,” Dax says with awe. “I read them to my niece and nephew. You wrote those? They’re always on the bestseller lists.”
“That’s me,” she says with a wink.
“They’re hilarious,” Dax tells her. “And the drawings are fantastic.”
He then mimes what must be a well-known part of the book by tucking his arms in and shaking his butt. Waddle, waddle, peck, peck, all day long.
He then turns to Legend and says with probably a little too much enthusiasm, “Hey, Legend…you have a bona fide, famous author living next door to you.”
Legend’s gaze cuts over to Pepper but there’s nothing but contempt in his expression. She merely lifts her chin and stares back at him blandly.
“And yet I could give two fucks,” Legend says as he glares at her. He then throws his shovel to the ground and heads across the patio, around the pool, and into his house.
“I feel like I should apologize for his rudeness,” Bishop tells Pepper as she stares at Legend’s back door.
She turns to look at Bishop and just shrugs. “He’ll get used to me.”
Pepper is totally hot, and quirky enough that if Blue weren’t in the picture, I’d totally make a play for her. But somehow I seriously doubt all that sexiness and charm is going to have an effect on Legend.
We chitchat with Pepper for a bit more, and Dax succeeds in getting her number. They make loose plans to get together sometime and then she saunters back into her yard where Mötley Crüe’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” starts playing.
Chapter 14
Erik
Hitching my duffel strap higher on my shoulder, I push open the exit door that leads from the arena to the players’ parking lot. Tacker follows behind me.
“You played really great tonight,” he says as we head not to our cars, but to the barricades that separate the lot from the road. There’s always a group of fans that hang out there after the game, wanting autographs and pictures, and we usually oblige when we win. When we lose, we’re usually in too crappy a mood and will head straight to our cars.
“Thanks,” I reply in a monotone voice. “You too.”
And he did. Tacker is one of the best players in the league and now that he’s back to full strength physically—mentally, still not sure about that—he’s killing it. He had two goals and an assist tonight in our victory over the Quebec Royals, extending our winning record that’s causing all kinds of buzz in the hockey world since we’re an expansion team.
“Don’t sound that happy about the win,” he observes as we approach the crowd of fans.
“Sorry,” I reply with a bit of pep in my tone. “Other things just weighing on my mind right now.”
Like how Blue is doing. I’m worried about her and that’s definitely a new sensation. Being worried about a woman that has nothing to do with making sure she gets off. We were supposed to go out last night but it didn’t happen. She returned from her trip to Chicago only to have to go straight to the Cresson as Billy was sick with the flu. He was well taken care of by the nursing staff, but he was miserable and wanted Blue, so she went. She’s been there all day today and this evening as well, and I wonder if she’s even taken time for herself to eat. It’s late and I hesitate to call since she could be sleeping.
“Maybe that will make you feel better,” Tacker says and for a minute I’m not sure what he means. He nods toward the barricades and I turn to look at the throng of fans.
Standing in the middle with her hands perched on top of the metal fencing with a concrete bottom stands Blue. Her hair is in a ponytail and she has no makeup on. She wears a pair of jeans and T-shirt with running shoes and I think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I mean…I’ve always thought she was stunning and gorgeous, but the way she’s looking at me now with a smile just for me and no one else, I know I’ll never see anything that could ever top it.
I walk straight to her, ignoring the fans that call out my name, thrusting pads of paper and markers over Blue’s shoulders for me to sign. When I reach the barricade, she opens her mouth to say something but I pick her up right under the armpits and lift her over. She goes high, hands to my shoulders and grins down at me. Bending her legs, she makes it easy for me to swing her over and set her on the asphalt before me. I’m vaguely aware of Tacker standing a few feet away signing autographs, and the crowd starts inching his way. It’s clear my attention is diverted elsewhere.