Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
It’s my turn, so I step up and take aim. I fully expect I’ll need a second shot, but to my surprise, I sink it in one.
“For fuck’s sake,” Flip mutters.
“Nice shot. Looks like you know how to handle your balls.” Tristan turns to Flip. “You’re up. Any words of wisdom, Bea?”
“Firm and gentle. Tap, don’t slap.”
He overshoots again, and we heckle him.
Every time Flip is up, Tristan stands beside me, and we talk shit. He also keeps touching me. A soft brush of fingers down the back of my arm, skimming my hand, sliding under my hair to squeeze my neck. They’re all innocent touches, and it’s dark so the balls, sticks, and courses can glow, but they ramp me up all the same, because Flip is right here. Of all the naughty things we’ve done, this feels particularly scandalous. I don’t want to ruin what we have by slipping up and making a mistake, but it’s hard to keep my hands to myself.
By the time we reach the end of the course, Flip is seriously annoyed because he’s had his ass handed to him by both of us. Tristan suggests we drop the cars off at the condo and walk over to the pub. Philly is playing against New York in an exhibition game. Kodiak Bowman, one of the most sought-after rookies in the league, started his career with Philly but got traded to New York along with another member of his team. His dad played professional hockey for years, and Kodiak is on track to blow all his records out of the water. It doesn’t hurt that he’s nice to look at, either.
We grab a table with a great view of the game and order drinks and appetizers. I’m tucked into the corner with Flip beside me and Tristan across from me. These booths are bigger than the ones at East Side’s, but despite that, Tristan manspreads into my leg room. When he feels my foot against his shin, he lifts it and tucks it beside his leg.
“New York is playing tight.” The score is already two-zip and Bowman has a goal and an assist.
Flip glances at the screen as Connor Grace, another recent trade, takes a shot on net. “I can’t stand that guy,” he mutters, then turns his attention back to Tristan. “How was Brody’s tournament, anyway?”
“Good. They won the first two games, lost the third, but pulled it together in the fourth and won the final. Brody really needed the wins. He played well and scored a bunch of goals, which is good because he’s had a few off games recently, and he’s a lot like me and gets up in his head.” Tristan kneads my calf under the table as the server drops off our drinks.
“I’m glad they won. That’s good for him. Any scouts at the game?” Flip asks.
Tristan nods. “A couple recognized me. There was one from Ottawa and one from Montreal. The ones from the States usually come up later in the year. But they’re looking at him, so that’s good news.”
“Is he excited about his birthday?” Flip takes another swig of his beer.
“Yeah. And it falls between games this year, so I’ll be able to celebrate with him. Are you two visiting the ’rents for Thanksgiving?” Tristan motions between us.
I shake my head. “My dad took a job on Sand Lake. He’s working the whole weekend for cash, so we said we’d find another weekend to do the turkey thing.”
“Do you want to come to my dad’s? Nate is coming back from uni for the weekend. Brody has games on Saturday, but he’s off Sunday and Monday, so we’re deep-frying a turkey in the backyard. There’s always way too much food and leftovers for days.” Tristan’s gaze shifts to me. “You’re both welcome to join us.” He squeezes my leg, then runs his hand through his hair.
“I’m down for deep-fried turkey,” Flip says and looks to me.
“Sure, that’d be great. I can bring pumpkin pie, or whatever kind of pie you want. Tell your dad I’m happy to help with whatever.”
“Pecan pie. I want pecan pie. And your candied sweet potatoes,” Flip says.
“I can do both. All three even.”
“Cool.” Tristan’s smile is genuine. “I’ll let my dad know you’re in.”
CHAPTER 18
TRISTAN
“Hey, Stiles, come to my office when you’re showered, yeah?” Coach says as the team heads for the locker room.
“Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?” I had a good practice, and last game I scored a goal and an assist.
“Yup, just want to have a word.” His smile is tight, though, which worries me.
Flip claps me on the shoulder. “Stay out of your head, man. You’ve been killing it on the ice lately. I’m sure it’s good news.”
“Yeah.” But I can’t shake the heavy feeling in my stomach as I change out of my gear and shower.