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 swiveled to face him. “You’re Nolan Moore.”
Of course, I knew who he was. This town was the size of a thimble, for fuck’s sake. I’d nodded a greeting to Nolan a few times and he’d been perfectly pleasant, but he’d seemed busy too, and I hadn’t pushed it.
“Yes.” Nolan brushed salt from his palms and offered his hand. “Welcome to Elmwood.”
It might have been my imagination, but I swore there was a beat of silence in the room before the regular hum of conversation resumed.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Hank Cunningham.”
“I know. We’re neighbors. My husband, Vinnie, and I live across the creek from you. If you see two kids skipping rocks or trying to catch frogs on your side, they probably belong to us. Feel free to send them home.”
“No, no. I wouldn’t dare disturb them,” I replied. “How old are they?”
“Alec is almost seven, and Ava is four and a half. They take after Vinnie for sure. He’s the king of jumping first and hoping he remembered a parachute later.” Nolan’s eyes creased with paternal pride as he described the harrowing reality of parenting two mini daredevils.
Okay, this was a pinch-me moment. I’d grown up watching Vinnie Kiminski play hockey for Seattle along with JC’s husband, Riley Thoreau. And I’d met both men courtesy of my diner and coffee shop habit. They’d been cordial for sure, but I hadn’t had a real conversation with either of them. More like surface pleasantries you spared for strangers.
This felt…sincere, and after months of feeling as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit, it was almost embarrassing how much I appreciated it.
“Sounds like you have your hands full,” I commented, chuckling at Nolan’s faux-exasperated nod. He was a handsome man in his early forties, lean and toned with kind eyes and a winning smile. I liked him immediately.
“They’re nonstop. Alec is playing Mighty Mites hockey this summer, but Ava is still too young for hockey camp. Wish me luck finding something to keep her—” Nolan stopped abruptly and waved at someone over my shoulder. “Whoa! Well, look who’s here.”
I didn’t have to. I sensed Denny’s presence like a warm breeze and a slice of sunshine on a cool day. The accompanying surge of butterflies surprised me, though.
Fuck, I missed him, and I hadn’t expected to. Not like this.
Sure, I watched the games, and maybe I’d been more invested in Denver’s win than normal, but I’d chalked that up to Elmwood’s playoff fever.
We hadn’t communicated much over the past few days, but our last thread from earlier this morning read,
Just got home last night. What are you doing?
Going to the diner, I’d replied. Meet me?
Denny had sent a thumbs-up emoji twenty minutes ago, and I’d been nursing a coffee I didn’t need while waiting for him, wondering why I was so churned up.
I swiveled on my stool to get a glimpse of the hockey god slapping high fives and shaking hands with his hometown fans. I studied Denny as he paused for a selfie, admiring his quiet grace under pressure. His flushed cheeks and the twitch in his jaw were the only indication that he was wildly uncomfortable with the attention.
To his credit, he only flinched a teensy bit when the diner erupted with, “Hotshot! Hotshot!”
He was better at peopling than he credited himself for, I mused as Denny made his way to the counter. He hugged Nolan and Dierdre, the waitress, and fist-bumped JC, who set my omelet on the counter and immediately pulled Denny into a crushing embrace.
Everything in me wanted to jump up and greet him with a monster hug too, but there was no way to do that without inviting a lot of questions. So I admired his broad shoulders, his tight ass in his black joggers, and willed my cock to behave when he raked his fingers through his unruly hair. Those fingers had been in my ass, for fuck’s sake. I wanted so much more. I wanted—
Denny flopped onto the stool next to me and bumped my knee with his. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” My grin split my face in half. I picked up a fork to give my hands something to do and gestured to the omelet. “Hungry? The food’s pretty good here.”
Christ, I’d lost my game.
“Pretty good?” JC huffed incredulously. “It is tres bon. Eat your breakfast. You will love. If not…you will try the mushrooms. You will notice zee menu is Denny’s menu. Choose whatever you like, and zee new guy will pay for it. I am kidding! It’s on the house!”
“Merci.” Denny scrunched his brow as if in deep thought. “Je prendrai l’omelette au fromage, s’il te plaît.”
JC beamed like a proud papa, patting Denny’s shoulder before skirting the counter, spouting rapid-fire French on his way to the kitchen.
“You speak French?” I cast a wide-eyed look at Denny, my voice dripping with the sort of reverence befitting an astronaut landing.