Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
My memory of rambling at him in the bookstore flashes through my mind, and I wince.
Fanboying? That’s not me. I’ve been to NHL games in Montreal and Boston and never once squeed over another player.
Rainn had been injured his senior year but had been drafted to the NHL. My teammates occasionally brought up his name, wondering what he was up to, but none of us realized he was still living here in Burlington and working at a bookstore and wine bar, of all things. Damn.
And now, as he scowls at me again, the same tongue-tied stupidity that hit me like a puck to the helmet the other day makes another takeover of my brain.
“I can pay for that,” I blurt.
Rainn grunts.
Like last week, his jaw is unshaven and covered in dark scruff. His bright blue eyes are stormy. And fuck, even though he doesn’t play hockey anymore, his muscles are … Nngh.
I may not have experience with guys, but I definitely know my type.
Rainn Richardson is my type.
“Don’t worry about it,” he grumbles and rushes off.
“No, wait.”
But he’s gone, and all eyes in the bar are on me. I’m used to being the focus of attention when I’m on the ice, but off it, I try to keep a low profile. When I’m not keeping to myself, I’m keeping the mood light and fun so no one realizes there might be something else underneath my carefree façade.
“The fun has arrived?” It comes out less confident than it normally would, but a few people laugh.
The bar is well-lit and cozy. It’s got booths along the windows, tables in the middle of the room, a small stage at the back, and stools at the bar.
Rainn comes back with a small broom and dustpan and hands them to me.
“You’re going to put me to work? Is that allowed?”
“Yup.” He turns on his heel again and storms away.
“I guess that’s fair,” I mutter. It is my mess.
“I wouldn’t worry too hard,” a voice says behind me.
I spin to find a guy maybe in his early thirties who’s wearing a saccharine smile.
“There’ll be a lot of guys here who’ll offer to do that for you for the chance to buy you a drink.” His gaze rakes over me.
This is where I’m supposed to swoon or something, right? A nice-looking guy saying something flattering should make me weak in the knees, but nope. Nothing.
“Uh … thanks? But I have it. Thank you.”
The guy doesn’t look too disappointed. “Fair enough.”
Even though I’m not interested, I do stare after him and check out his ass. It’s a nice ass, but I still feel nothing.
Great start, Whit. You’re, like, the smoothest guy ever.
I bend down to clean up the mess I made, and I’m almost done when feet appear in front of me. I get excited until a mop and bucket come into view.
“I have to mop too?” I look up and meet Rainn’s eyes.
“No, I’ve got this.”
What does it say about me that an interested-in-me dude with a cheesy smile and a nice ass did nothing for me, but the hardened features of one ex-hockey player will make my body buzz and my cock pay attention? Maybe I have an anger kink. That could be helpful to know.
I stand full height to find I’m taller than him by maybe an inch. A short inch. He’s wider and hasn’t lost his athlete’s build.
“Where do you want me to put this?” I hold up the broom and full dustpan.
“Leave it by the bar over there, and then you can leave.” He points to where the bar leads to a back room.
I frown. “You’re kicking me out? Because I knocked over a couple of glasses?”
“No, I’m kicking you out because you’re a hockey player.”
I don’t see what that has to do with anything.
“Are hockey players not allowed in here?” I glance around the bar to try to see what I’m missing.
“Are you lost? Do you know what type of bar this is?”
Realization dawns. “Ah. So, hockey players aren’t allowed to be gay. Is that what you’re saying? You’re here.”
“I work here.”
“I’m so confused.”
“Why are you here, Leighton?”
I pull back. “Y-ou … how … what?”
Rainn sighs. “I might have looked you up the other day after I was rude because I had contemplated apologizing.”
“Only contemplated?”
“Yup. And then you came and made my job harder.”
I rub my chin to cover my amusement. “My mistake was an accident. Yours was bad manners.”
He scoffs. “I have bad manners? You were the one asking personal questions of someone you don’t even know.”
“Hmm, I guess that’s true. I have an idea. Why don’t you buy me a drink and we can call it even?”
“I’ll buy you a drink, but we will be nowhere near even.”
“That sounds promising.” I turn on the mega-watt—mega-Whit, if you will—smile, but it falls as soon as Rainn starts laughing.