Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Yeah.” I nod. In my pants right now. The words almost slip out, but I bite them back. Putting the water bottle on the counter, I pull off the sweater I’m wearing, leaving me in my beige khaki shorts.
I walk out, Beatrice following me but stopping and lying down before I walk up the stairs. “We are going upstairs,” I tell her, and she just stretches out in the shade.
When I get upstairs, I look out and see that she’s gotten two towels, and she’s laid them out, side by side, in the middle of the big day pad. She sits in the middle of one as she ties her hair on top of her head.
“Do you want anything to drink?” I stop at the fridge before walking to her.
“Just water,” she throws over her shoulder as she stretches her legs in front of her. She puts her hands behind her, leaning back.
I grab a water bottle, walking to her and seeing her looking up at the sun. “Here you go.” I hold out the bottle for her and she reaches up and grabs it from me. Our fingers graze each other for a second before I make my way over to the towel she set out for me.
“This,” she says, opening her water bottle, “is what I call heaven.”
I laugh. “Let’s play a game.” I’m not sure where the fuck this is coming from.
“Sure,” she replies, folding her legs. “What do you want to play?”
Naked Twister, my head screams at the same time as I say, “Twenty-one questions.”
She laughs. “So basically my worst nightmare.” She takes a sip of water.
“I’ll go first,” I offer, and she rolls her eyes. “Why did you buy a boat?”
“Oh, that’s an easy one.” She smiles. “I went out on a boat with a couple of friends,” she shares, and I want to ask her which friends, but instead, I just listen. “And I can’t explain to you how at peace I felt sitting while anchored.” I smile at her, knowing exactly how it feels. “I just pictured myself sitting on a boat in the middle of the ocean, anchored and having a coffee.” She shrugs. “Next thing you know, I’m buying a boat.” She taps her water bottle in her hand. “My turn.” She fake vomits and looks up, trying to think of a question. “Okay, how is this one? If you could have dinner with a famous person, dead or alive, who would it be?”
I turn on my side, looking at her, crossing my legs at the ankle. “That’s easy and weird both at the same time.” I laugh. “It would be Cooper Stone.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “I don’t know why that surprises me. My brother-in-law, Wilson”—she looks at me—“he plays with—”
“Dallas, I know,” I fill in for her.
“He almost cried when he met him.” She laughs. “We still make fun of him.”
“Almost cried. I would legit be a sobbing mess.” I don’t even try to be all calm, cool, and collected. “As someone who has always played hockey, you have no idea what that would mean.” I look out on the water. “It would be like going to fucking Disneyland and eating with Mickey Mouse.”
“Well, as someone who has done both.” She laughs. “Both are equally good.”
“My turn,” I say, trying to think of a question. Favorite sexual positions? Do you like to give head or receive it? I shake my head to think clearer. “This is harder than I thought.”
She laughs, and my cock gets hard again. “See? It’s all fun and games until—”
“Yeah, yeah.” I cut her off. “What’s your dream destination trip?”
“So my family is a little bit extreme,” she starts to explain. “Every single year, after the hockey season is over, we do this huge family vacation.” I listen to her intently.
“Does Cooper Stone come?” I joke, and she laughs.
“He does.” She nods her head. “It’s just insane. One year, it was like seventy-five people, and we each had those huts on the beach. Every year is a different destination.”
“So you’ve been to Bora Bora?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“That is one the family has vetoed, only because it would take over twenty-four hours to get there, and there is no way in hell any of us are doing that. I think the farthest we’ve done is Hawaii.”
“Okay, so what’s your answer?” I laugh as she ponders.
“I would have to say Bora Bora. Or Fiji.” She looks up, thinking. “Oh, oh.” She holds up her finger. “Maybe taking the boat down to Florida.”
“It’s a nice route,” I confirm, and she gasps. “I do that every winter.”
“Jealous,” she pouts. “Okay, my turn.” She taps her bottle again. “What is your dream job?”
“I was doing it,” I admit. I wait for the tightness to come when I talk about hockey. It starts to creep its way up. “Playing hockey was my dream job.” I don’t even try to deny it, nor do I try to push off how I feel about it. “Going into the arena every single day and lacing up my skates? Fuck, that was a dream come true.” The lump starts to crawl up to my throat. “I would have done it until I was no longer able to.”