Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
For the second time in the span of twenty minutes, my hand rises to the scar that bisects my chest. “I do have a few bags I don’t use, but it’s doubtful that would be enough to take care of the entire tuition bill.”
She chews her lower lip before murmuring, “I hate to even bring this up…”
Even though her voice trails off, I know exactly what she’s going to suggest.
I shake my head. “Forget it.”
“Okay,” she says lightly, dropping the topic. “It was just an idea.”
No matter how desperate I am, Miles’ Porsche is one thing I refuse to part with.
There has to be something else I can do.
I just have to figure out what.
Chapter 2
Wolf
“Dude, practice this morning sucked major ass,” Bridger says with a grunt as we head across campus to the Union for lunch.
“Tell me when a six o’clock practice doesn’t suck?” Colby shoots back.
I glance at Bridger before jerking my head toward the blond left wing. “He’s got you there. Never met an early morning practice that didn’t.”
Bridger rolls his blue eyes and grumbles under his breath. He’s been in a shit mood for the last month or so. Unsavory texts regarding his social life continue to pop up on the university’s message system that gets pushed out to both staff and students.
He’s been working with a few tech-savvy friends to figure out who’s behind it, but so far, they’ve remained irritatingly anonymous. We’d actually thought maybe the entire thing was over and done with since they were usually sent out every Monday.
Until this morning.
It was a photo taken at a party. His arms had been wrapped around two drunk sorority girls as he grinned at the camera. One of the girls had her hand resting on his junk.
This is a public service announcement to all the women at Western—stay as far as you can get from this manwhore. He’s toxic to the female species.
A skull and crossbones emoji had accompanied it.
Most people wouldn’t realize that the pic was taken at a party last year and wasn’t even recent.
It took less than ten minutes for his father to call and rip him a new one.
Bridger is a good dude, and I feel bad for him.
A lot of our teammates like to take advantage of the puck bunny situation on campus.
He’s never been one of those guys.
A few groupies wave and beeline in Colby’s direction. Wide grins wreathe their faces as they throw themselves at him.
I almost roll my eyes.
Now this guy, on the other hand, is a major player. Totally shameless where the chicks are concerned. Hell will likely freeze over before he settles down with just one girl.
Although, the way I hear it, his father, Gray McNichols, was the same way before falling for his mother. And the rest, shall we say, is NHL history. Now the guy is a bigshot sportscaster on ESPN. Colby likes to keep that on the downlow.
Well…as much as he can.
It’s not like it’s some big secret. But he’s not one to play up the relationship. Like Maverick, he wants his talent to speak for itself. Other than the blond hair, he’s the spitting image of his father.
“Hi, Wolf.”
I’m knocked from those thoughts by a soft feminine voice, only to find Larsa Middleton has sidled up to me while I wasn’t paying attention.
I give her a chin lift in greeting. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Good. I was just about to grab lunch. What about you?”
“Umm, yeah…” My voice trails off as my attention gets snagged by a girl with long, inky black hair hurrying along a path that snakes in the opposite direction.
Her head is tipped downward as she taps away at her phone. A thick curtain of shiny tresses obscures her face from view. Although, that doesn’t matter. I know exactly who it is. Electricity crackles through my veins as my footsteps stall, and I soak in the sight of her. Even though we attend the same school, it’s not often our paths cross.
My hungry gaze slides over her, committing every detail to memory.
She’s no more than twenty feet away.
Shockingly close for her not to notice.
My heart picks up speed, thrumming a painful beat against my ribcage.
I’ve spent all these years keeping a firm distance because that’s what she wanted.
This is the closest we’ve been since…
I squash all thoughts of our past.
If she weren’t so absorbed in her phone, she’d catch me staring, and then all hell would break loose.
“Wolf?”
When Larsa’s slim hand settles on my forearm, I shake it away. It’s not a conscious decision on my part.
More of a habit.
“So, about lunch—”
When Fallyn hustles up the wide stone stairs of Vanderberg Hall and slips inside the glass doors, I make a split-second decision.
“Maybe another time? I need to stop at the registrar’s office.”
Disappointment flashes across her pretty face. “Yeah, sure.”