Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I fucking winked.
Me.
That was me flirting. Ugh. Bad, Denny. Bad.
I felt surprisingly relaxed with him. Like I had last weekend when I’d spilled my guts and…other things. The point was, I could talk to him without feeling immediately depleted, and that alone was a minor miracle.
Hank kicked my shin playfully. “Nah, you like me. You did last weekend, anyway.”
“I was drunk, and I’m still mortified. Go easy on me.” I took a swig of water as if I were knocking back whisky.
“I’ll try, but…you shook your dick at me, then fell buck-ass naked in my bed, so c’mon.”
My eyes had to be saucer-sized. “I shook my dick at you?”
He inclined his chin and winked in a touché move that made my cock swell against my zipper.
“A week later, I’m still thinking about it,” Hank drawled.
Whoa. Was he serious?
“I didn’t think I was your type.”
Hank snorted. “A dark, broody jock with big muscles…you’re everyone’s type.”
“I don’t think of myself that way. At all.”
“Well, you are. You’re single, easy on the eyes, and successful. You must have puck bunnies following your tail everywhere.”
“I don’t see any.” I glanced over my shoulder as if to double-check. “I don’t pay attention, anyway.”
“Why not?”
I skewered him with an annoyed look. “I’m not interested in hooking up with random women.”
“Or men?”
“I’ve never done that.” I leaned across the table and whisper-hissed, “And I thought we agreed not to discuss this.”
He made a button-lip gesture and shrugged. “My bad. I’m just curious. But you were drunk and maybe there were other factors at play, like bad breakup blues or—”
“No, that wasn’t it,” I snapped. “I don’t want to talk about my ex. You’re supposed to be asking about Elmwood…as a friend.”
“I know, but I’m working out my pitch for that titillating angle, and I can’t help wondering if…” He stared at my mouth as if in a trance, raking his teeth along the side of his lip. “Never mind.”
Never mind? Fuck that.
Blood zipped through my veins, sending my heart rate through the ceiling. He was toying with me like a lion pawing at a mouse. What did he want from me? I was too afraid of misreading signals to think we might be on the same page.
Don’t ask me what that meant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted.
No, that was a damn lie. I knew exactly what I wanted.
“Say it. What are you wondering?” I asked before taking a sip of water.
Hank propped his elbows on the table and tipped his hat. “I’m wondering if we should start over…with a sexier proposition.”
My jaw dropped on cue and since I currently had a mouth full of water, it dribbled over my chin. Classy much?
Wait. It got worse.
I set the glass down with a thud, sloshing water over the sides and onto the table. I tried to pull it out of the way but knocked it over instead, spilling the contents directly in Hank’s lap.
He jumped up, cursing under his breath and brushing at his jeans ineffectually.
“Damn, I’m sorry.” I waved a server over.
She cleaned the watery mess on the table and handed Hank a wad of napkins.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Can I get you—” She froze as she turned to me. “Hey, you’re Denny Mellon. The hockey player, right?”
Shit. Could I deny it? No, that was dumb.
“I—yeah. I am.”
Her face lit up, and she let out a shrill squeal that echoed throughout the bar.
“I watched the last period on my break, and oh my gosh, you were amazing! Can I get a selfie, please? I never ask, but I can’t resist. You’re my favorite new player. I’m Kelly, by the way.” Her phone was out and she was plastered to my side before I could get a word in.
I swallowed my unease as heads swiveled our way.
Okay, this had happened once or twice. It wasn’t a big deal. In fact, it was an honor. I was a hockey fan too. I still got jazzed when I saw some of my idols, and playing with them in the pros was seriously next level. But I wasn’t used to the rabid attention off the ice.
I thought I did okay, though. I smiled for the camera, signed a napkin for Kelly, and for the couple next to us. Someone was filming from the pool tables and that was fine too. I mean…I would have preferred to be left alone, but at least no one expected a speech. And their questions were easy.
“How do you like playing for Denver?” Love it.
“You’re from here, right?” Yes, I am.
“Do you think we’ll bring home the cup this year?” I hope so.
Simple questions, simple answers.
“Thank you! Drinks on the house. How do you feel about wings? Or nachos? Ours are the best,” Kelly gushed.
Not sure why that was the moment I froze, but words wouldn’t come. Panic threatened for no good fucking reason. I opened my mouth, hoping for the best and prepared for the worst.