Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Even if my heart is in Knoxville.
Nope. No. Not gonna happen.
Skate, skate, slide, slide, skate, skate, slide, slide.
Nope, not allowing myself to think of that.
Of her.
I round the goal once more and then roll my shoulders, shaking out my limbs. About forty minutes after I came out on the ice, my buddy Ciaran Carter joins me. We grew up together in the junior league as kids, and then we drafted to the Assassins together. We used to live together, but then he met his fiancée, and now he’s a signed player with the Assassins. Meanwhile, I’m single and not signed.
I’m in limbo.
Neither of us says a word to each other. I go into the goal, my happy place, and tap the goal post on either side of me three times each before I drop down in my stance, telling Ciaran I’m ready. He has a puck on his blade as he skates toward me, and he tries for over my shoulder. I catch it with my glove, throwing it away as we go again. He goes for my blocker side, but I bat it away with ease. He goes for five-hole, but I’ll be damned if I let a puck in that way. I feel like such a loser when someone scores like that. We go through a bucket of pucks before we’re both panting, and I grab my water bottle, following him to the bench where his water bottle is.
Ciaran leans into the boards as he squirts water into his mouth, and I do the same, but mine is blue Powerade. I hate Gatorade, and water is boring. After I swallow a mouthful, I ask, “How’d Lou’s appointment go?”
He nods, and that little gooey-eyed look of love comes over his face. “Good. Her ankle is still giving her some problems, so they scheduled another MRI. We go back next week to see if she needs another surgery.”
“Damn, that truck did a number on her.”
He nods solemnly, and it’s almost as if I can see the grief on his face from the memory of Louisa getting run over by a truck. She never saw it coming, and it got her good. Ciaran almost blew off his chance at the NHL to be by her side. Not that I’m surprised… Fuck, I would do the same thing for the right girl.
“Yeah. We’re wanting to get all this fixed before we try for a baby.”
I grin at my buddy, completely caught off guard. “Well, hot damn. You’re ready to be a daddy?”
Ciaran’s bashful expression makes me laugh. He’s the most confident dude I know, but becoming a dad has him shy? That’s hilarious. “I never thought I’d want kids, but she makes me want them.”
I smack his shin with my stick. “You’ll be a great dad, bro.”
“Thanks, man,” he says softly.
But then something occurs to me. “Wait, when are you getting married?”
He laughs at that, his eyes bright. “You don’t need to be married to have a baby,” he scolds, and I snort.
“I know that, but Dan Davenport will want you two married.”
Ciaran nods. “Yeah, not that we care, but we are planning a small little thing this summer.”
I feign hurt. “And I wasn’t invited?”
He scoffs. “We haven’t invited anyone yet. We aren’t even sure if it’ll be more than family.”
I gawk at him. “I am family, asshole.”
His laughter is annoying. “I know, and you’ll be there.”
I give him a sidelong glance, but I’m just messing with him. “Sure.”
His laughter echoes through the rink, and I can’t help but join in. This is how we were before Louisa McDavid came along and stole my friend away. Not that I mind anymore. We all need to grow, and I want him to be happy. Louisa makes him happy. More than happy, if I’m honest. Those McDavid girls are a rare gift. I physically shake my head of that thought. It’s been six months; I need to stop with this hang-up I have for a certain hazel-eyed beauty. She didn’t want me, and there are plenty of women in the world who do.
Not that I’ve been putting myself out there.
Which doesn’t make any fucking sense. I love women. I love the curves of them and the feel of those curves in my hands. I love the taste of a woman and how they come undone under my tongue. Fucking a sweet mouth and making her gag sends me into fits. The feel of a tight pussy around my cock is my favorite thing after completing a shutout. But when I get a woman to scream my name as she comes apart, God take me, I’m done for. I love all the pleasure a woman can give me, but while getting my fill of a certain McDavid, I also fell for the intimacy.
Fuck me. Intimacy? I sound like fucking Ciaran. Or one of his romance books’ heroes.