Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Did that love of hockey come naturally or did your family have a favorite team they followed that made you fall for it?”
“My dad used to play,” she says, clearing her throat as she moves to another stretch. “And we’ve always been super close.”
Goddamn. I swear this woman was made in some celestial generator, popping out every quality and endearing characteristic I didn't know I was a sucker for.
“What about you?” she asks, switching her stretch, and I follow, sighing slightly at the way my muscles relax after the grueling session. “Has the NHL always been your goal?”
I nod. “My mom bought me my first pair of skates when I was three,” I explain. “I got a stick in my hand not long after that. There's nothing else I've ever wanted to do, and I think my mom recognized that at a young age and made sure she sacrificed all her free time so I could be in every game possible.”
“She sounds like an amazing mom,” Blakely says, switching to another stretch.
“She is,” I say. “I definitely wouldn't be here without her. And sometimes I wonder how she managed it all—all the away games, the practices, the constant fees that came with the sport.” I shake my head, gratitude filling my chest. “My dad left before I can even remember him, and she was a single mother working two jobs. Somehow, she still managed to keep me on the ice, keep me and my sister fed, and make us feel like she had all the time in the world to spend with us too.”
“Wow,” Blakely says nodding. “She must be so proud of you.”
“She is,” I say. “She mails me a package every month, complete with a letter about how she's been following my progress, even though we talk on the phone every day, or at least text if we can't chat.”
Blakely laughs softly, her eyebrows raising. “I didn’t have you pegged for a guy who talks to his mother on a daily basis.”
“You don’t talk to your mom a lot?”
Blakely drops her eyes for a moment. “My mother passed away when I was a baby. Cancer.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“And your father never remarried?”
“Nope,” she says. “It’s been me and him for a long time. But don’t feel sorry for me or anything, he truly is the best parent I could’ve ever asked for.”
“What kind of guy would you have pegged me for?” I ask, returning to our earlier conversation.
Blakely blows out a breath. “Let's see, you have an ego the size of Texas, you're incredibly charming when you want to be, and you have a social history that could fill two lifetimes. I figure with all the women, social media exposure, and cockiness you wouldn't have time for anybody else other than yourself.”
“Ouch,” I say, hissing through my teeth as we both return to our feet. “Just because I'm confident and have enjoyed my life doesn't mean I'm an asshole. And with the way your ex acts, I think you'd be an expert on spotting assholes.”
Blakely purses her lips and nods. “That's fair,” she says. “And for the record, I never said you were an asshole. Just a cocky, infuriating albeit likable guy.”
I glide closer to her, a smile on my face. “So, you're saying you like me.”
“You’re just going to ignore the cocky and infuriating part?”
“Definitely. Either way, you have to like me if you want me to be your fake boyfriend.”
“Hold on, this isn't some fake relationship romcom,” she says. “The only person I want to think we're dating is my ex. To everyone else we're just...friends.” She says the last word like it's a question, and it only makes me smile harder.
“Are you saying you'd be ashamed to date the number one draft pick in the NHL?” I tease.
“Are you forgetting that you're not a relationship guy? Aren’t you married to the NHL?”
I shift my head back and forth. “I wouldn't say married,” I answer. “But we’re definitely committed.”
Blakely laughs, and the sound radiates across my bones. “Well, that's good enough for me. Besides, I spent too long in a relationship that did nothing but tear me down. I have no interest in jumping into another. That's what makes this arrangement so perfect.”
“Right,” I say, unable to quell the little spike of anger at her douchebag of an ex for tearing her down. She seems like such a strong independent woman. I can't imagine how anyone or anything would ever be able to hold her back. But then again, I've never been in love, so I'm not one hundred percent sure on what it does to a person.
“What did you think of your first lesson?” she asks as we make our way off the ice, unlacing our skates and heading toward the locker rooms.
“I think this is going to be too much fun,” I admit. “I can feel your drills in every inch of my body right now, so I have no doubt you're making a great player even greater,” I say. “And I also get to have fun driving your ex crazy. This is a win-win for me.”