Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
“Isn’t she a chef?” His eyes are wide with disbelief. “There are chef job openings everywhere. Hell, I’ll find her a job if you want me to. You’re in the NHL, Knox. You can’t follow her to New York over a chef’s job.”
“It’s her dream job, though.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just can’t reconcile losing the best enforcer in the league over this.”
“I’m not the best anymore. Have you seen that new kid, Austin Randall?”
“He’s very good, but he doesn’t have your instincts. No one does.”
“I appreciate you wanting me to stay. It really means a lot. But I don’t think Reese and I will make it if we’re not together. I want to be with her.”
“If it’s what you want, I won’t fight you on it.” Durand looks resigned now. “I don’t want anyone on my team who doesn’t want to be there.”
“Thanks. But nothing’s for sure yet. She hasn’t accepted the job.”
Durand shakes his head. “I can’t believe my team’s changes at the playoffs may hinge on a woman’s decision about a chef’s job in New York.”
“Hey,” I say firmly. “She may not be a billionaire like you are, but Reese is very good at what she does. And she works hard. She wants to go there to help homeless people. Stop acting like her job’s not every bit as good as mine.”
Durand furrows his brow, confused. “How can she help homeless people as a chef?”
I tell him about the plan for the shelter and restaurant operating together on one property, even the plans for the buildings to be environmentally friendly. When I finish, Durand surprises me by laughing.
“Why didn’t you open with that?” he asks, sipping from the glass of whiskey the server dropped off.
I laugh nervously and say, “I don’t know, it just…didn’t seem relevant?”
Durand looks completely relaxed now.
“Your girlfriend can start a restaurant like that here. In Chicago. I’ll back it.”
My mouth drops open in shock.
“Yes, I’m serious,” he says. “I’m sure I can get some tax benefits from it, and I like giving back. The team can volunteer there and we’ll get great PR.”
I’m still just staring at him, not sure what to say.
“What do you think?” he asks. “Doesn’t that sound better than moving to New York? I’ve never liked it there. It has a smell.”
“I…yeah. I mean, it’s gonna be expensive. And it may not ever be completely self-sustaining. I don’t want you to buy in and then be disappointed later.”
He waves a hand. “I’m not worried about it. Like I said, we’ll get good PR out of it. I can get some friends to kick in money, too.”
“Wow. I don’t even know what to say other than thank you. I never expected to find a way for Reese and I to get everything we want.”
Plus, now Reese won’t have to be around that douchebag Gabe. Bonus.
“Next time, just come to me and we’ll get things worked out without any talk of trades, okay?” Durand says.
“I will.”
“How long do you plan to play hockey, Knox? Have you thought about it?”
I shrug. “When I was in my 20s, I didn’t give it any thought. But now that I’m 30, it’s starting to set in that I can’t play forever. I’d like to make it to 40, but it’ll depend how my body holds up, I guess.”
“Hockey is pretty hard on a body.”
“Tell me about it. My shoulder is still sore from hitting the boards several days ago.”
Durand’s face lights up. “That hit against Cameron? That was magic to watch.”
“It didn’t feel so magical. The trainers iced my shoulder off and on after the game and I had to eat a cold burrito for dinner.”
“My father used to say hockey is only a fraction as glamorous as is looks when you watch a game.”
“Did he play?”
“He did, through college. And I played, but only through high school. We both had the heart but not enough talent.”
“Looks like it worked out well for you, though.”
Durand smiles and takes the last sip of his drink. “Well enough. I still play on weekends sometimes, just for fun.” He sets his glass down, turning serious. “Can I ask how you think Anton’s doing?”
I lower my brows. “Kicking ass and taking names. He scored two goals in our last game.”
“No, not in terms of hockey. He’s seemed…almost morose in some of his interviews lately.”
“I’m not sure what morose means, but if you’re saying he’s been a moody bastard, that’s just who he is.”
Durand’s lips quirk up in a smile. “He seems moodier than usual lately. If he’s not happy and there’s something I can do about it, I will. I don’t want to lose him.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s all the shit going down with his brother.”