Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Sheesh, he was hot.
“He is a hockey player! He’s the backup goalie for the Assassins.”
Aynslee was even more confused. The sweet, socially awkward guy she had shared a plane ride with was a hockey player? Weren’t hockey players assholes who loved to fight and beat people up? She always thought most of them didn’t have any teeth. Didn’t they have females at their beck and call?
“Really?”
“Yup. He used to be Phil’s favorite player, but then Odder was brought up when Ryan was hurt, so now Phil’s an Odder fan. Ryan hasn’t been the same since the injury.”
“Injury? When was that?”
“Like, two years ago? Ryan has been filling in while Odder had some family stuff going on. I think his girlfriend was hurt or something—I don’t know, I’m not obsessed like Phil is. I only watch hockey for the hot guys. Have you seen Shea Adler or, hell, even Jakob Titov? Holy mother of hot hockey players!”
Aynslee said, “Not only do I have no clue what you are talking about, but I had no idea you loved hockey so much.”
Sadie laughed. “Oh, yes, hockey is a part of life.”
Aynslee shook her head. “I always thought hockey was a violent sport, for violent people.”
Sadie put her hand on her chest, obviously offended by Aynslee’s words.
“Hockey is violent but no more so than football, and, besides, the guys are amazing. The Assassins are very involved with our community. They came to the school last year and did things with the kids, and they hold events for disadvantaged children too. They are awesome guys—I mean, look at Aiden Brooks.”
“Yeah?” she said, knowing that Sadie was talking about one of Aynslee’s third-graders. “His dad is a hockey player; he’s a forward for the Assassins.”
Aynslee was completely shocked. “Really? He is such a sweet guy. Nice to look at and he has all his teeth too.”
“Right! Told you! Jeez, Ayns, I am totally offended that you are so clueless about this.”
Aynslee laughed as she said, “My mom never let the girls watch many sports; she said it was too much for our sweet minds.”
“This is the very first time I do not agree with your mama. Hockey is amazing, and the men are hot to boot. I think I need to give you a hockeymacation.”
Aynslee couldn’t stop laughing. “Hockeymacation?”
“Yes, I am going to school you in the art of hockey, and you are in luck. Phil can’t go to the game tonight. I was going to take my sister, but this is an emergency: We are going together.”
“What! Seriously?”
“Yes, you need to be educated.”
Later that night, Aynslee found herself in a hand-me-down Jordan Ryan jersey in the middle of Luther Arena. In her hands, she had the hockey-fan essentials—according to Sadie anyway.
Beer and bacon on a stick.
It was completely mind-blowing to her that she’d spent three bucks on bacon on a stick, but, Aynslee had to admit, it was pretty damn good. Sadie had the same snack, but she drank water and wore an Adler jersey with a number six painted on her face and carried a foam sword that said NASHVILLE ASSASSINS on it. Sadie looked like a complete dork, waving her sword in the air, screaming at the players as they warmed up on the ice, but, then again, Aynslee probably
looked crazy just sitting there inhaling a piece of bacon. On a stick.
Once the players were back on the ice after the opening ceremony, Sadie finally sat in her seat and looked over at Aynslee.
“Ready for some hockey?!”
Aynslee threw one hand in the air. “Whoo!” “That’s the spirit.”
“Where is Jordan?” Aynslee asked, searching the ice. He wasn’t in the goal thingy, and she didn’t see him on the bench.
“He’s right there,” Sadie said, pointing directly in front of them.
When Aynslee saw him sitting in the entranceway at the end of the bench, her heart skipped a beat. He looked so freaking good in a dark-purple jersey, all padded up, making him much larger than she remembered. He didn’t have his helmet on, only an Assassins ball cap that hid his eyes. His mouth was set in a straight line, while his eyes, presumably, were on the ice.
Beautiful.
Sadie nudged Aynslee’s thigh, bringing her attention back to her. “Now, listen up. We have five-on-five hockey here, unless there is a penalty; then it would be four on five. A penalty happens when someone does something wrong, and those guys in the white and black will call it. Then the player will go into the box . . .”
Aynslee felt as if she were listening to the teacher on the Peanuts cartoons: Wa wa wa wa wa. She didn’t understand what Sadie was talking about, but, surprisingly enough, she was enjoying the game. She had no clue what the hell icing was or why Adler got a penalty for tapping some guy with his stick, but apparently it pissed Sadie off. Sadie was usually such a sweet girl, but Aynslee figured all bets were off when it came to a hockey game. Her friend was screaming louder than most of the men and using language that would make a sailor blush.