Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
The Tampa Bae Babes was going to do an exclusive, a month walking in my shoes in the height of my first season with the Ospreys.
And that feisty little snoot from the gala was the one who’d be in charge of the piece.
Maven King.
I smirked a little at the thought of her, that same mixture of curiosity and indignation flaring in my chest. To say I’d been surprised when I’d looked her up would have been a vast understatement.
I didn’t know what I expected to find, but it wasn’t a bohemian flower child who had fifty-thousand followers and a love for being barefoot in her parents’ garden. After seeing her all dolled up in a gown with diamonds glittering on her earlobes, it had been a shock to see her in her natural habitat — earth-toned flowing fabrics, foundation-free skin, and natural, curly hair.
The images of her with her family were a stark contrast of the ones I had with my own. My parents both came from money, their grandparents smart with their investments. We had what I’d heard referred to as generational wealth, the kind that meant we really never had to want for anything.
I wasn’t too proud to admit growing up in that atmosphere had spoiled me a bit. I liked designer clothes, exotic cars, expensive restaurants, and luxury travel experiences. I didn’t know what it was like to check the price tag on something before I bought it — even before I got the nice signing bonus as a rookie with the Ospreys.
Still, my parents both had careers, even though they didn’t technically need them to provide for themselves, and they brought me and my sister up with the same expectation. I was thankful for their support when I told them hockey was my dream.
I was well aware that not every kid had the opportunity to play an expensive sport, let alone have their parents at almost every game.
I’d spent more time than I’d ever admit scrolling through Maven’s pictures and wondering what her childhood was like, smiling a little more with each new discovery I made at who she was now. And seeing a post about her parents and their philanthropic nature, along with the dozens of photos and videos of her out in the community with them, I, at least, had a little context to put with the attitude she’d given me at the gala.
I also found it quite amusing, to hit the little heart button on a few of her photos and have the satisfaction of knowing she’d likely blow a gasket when she got the notifications.
Even as intriguing as I found her, I agreed with Coach on this one. Having anyone follow me around would be a nuisance. But having her?
Distraction with a capital D.
But if this was part of the path I needed to take to impress my GM and inch my way closer to the Calder Memorial Trophy, then I wasn’t about to argue. I wanted to be rookie of the year, and sometimes that meant doing stupid shit I didn’t want to in order to make the bosses happy.
The way Dick was behaving, I didn’t think I had much of a choice, anyway.
“Whatever I can do to help the team, I’ll do it,” I finally said.
“Atta boy!” Dick beamed, hopping out of his chair as I rose to stand, too. He shook my hand and clapped me on the shoulder as I shared a wary glance with Coach. “Everyone who counted Tampa out years ago is about to eat their words.”
“Yes, sir,” I agreed when we pulled back.
Richard and Coach talked for a few minutes before we were excused, and Coach let out a sigh once we were out of the front office suite and in the elevator heading down to the team’s domain.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sure you can see there was no talking him out of that one.”
“It’s fine,” I assured him. “Besides, maybe he’s onto something. A little good press can’t hurt, right?”
Coach lifted a brow. “As long as it stays good.”
I smirked, drawing a little halo around my head that made Coach relax a little on a laugh.
“I’m supposed to have a call with the…” He paused, scrunching his nose. “What do we call her? Reporter? Influencer?” He shook his head. “Regardless, we’re touching base this afternoon. Bancroft is eager to get her in here and get started, so I imagine we can expect her at practice in the morning. I hope she settles in quickly because we head to Boston tomorrow night.”
“Oh, good,” I said as we stepped off the elevator and made our way toward the locker room. “She’ll be here just in time for me to smoke the Beavers.”
“For us to smoke them,” he corrected.
“Right,” I said with a wink.
Coach just shook his head, blowing his whistle when we made it back to the ice. I had to pause to change into my skates again while he called everyone together to run over our drills for the day.