Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
I laugh and lean forward so I can grip the tendon guard. The skate is half a size too small, but they’re good quality, and I got them used for forty bucks, so I suffer through the cramped toes. I wiggle my foot in, trying not to appreciate how good he smells, or how close he is.
My cheek brushes his hair as I lift my head. “I would’ve said no to coffee or ice cream.” Our faces are only inches apart, and for a moment I wonder what it would be like to go on a date with someone like him. Would we go to the diner? Or the pier? Would he try to kiss me at the end? Would we end up making out in the back of his Jeep? He’s got all the lines, and the chemistry between us is hard to ignore.
He chuckles. “Because I need driving lessons, or because you don’t like coffee or ice cream?”
I drop my head and focus on tightening my laces. “Because I thought you were an asshole.”
“You’re using past tense. That’s good news for me.” He’s still on his knees in front of me, only a sliver of his artwork peeking out from under the sleeve of his shirt.
I push on his shoulder as I straighten. “Get off your knees, Ballistic.”
He rises gracefully, his hand covering his heart. “Oh man, you’re last-naming me? Kiss of death, right there.”
I laugh and stand. I don’t want to like this guy, but I think I do.
He tips his head. “Ready to get your skate on?”
I grab my helmet, gloves and stick, pads and jersey, and we clomp down the hallway together.
A rush of excitement hits me. It’s partly connected to the hot guy currently flirting with me, but also to the fact that I’m about to get on the ice. It’s my favorite place to be.
The rink is already full of big bodies, many of them in hockey gear, minus helmets. There are a few girls in street clothes. I spot Rose with a blond girl, lapping the rink and heading our way.
“You can leave your hockey stuff here.” BJ motions to the bench lined with helmets and gloves.
I set mine at the end as Rose and the blonde approach the gate.
It takes real effort not to let my smile fade when I realize Rose’s face isn’t the only familiar one.
“Winter! Yes! I’m so glad you made it!” Rose grabs the sill to prevent her from sliding past the gate.
I recognize the blond girl behind her as Lovey. I met her at the beginning of May, shortly after we moved to the cabin where we’re living. “Winter? Holy crap! Small world!” She looks between me and BJ, questions on her face. “You two know each other?”
“Uh, yeah. We just met today.” This is so awkward.
“When BJ almost ran her over with his Jeep,” Rose announces.
“What?” Lovey looks horrified.
“And then he held her skate hostage so she would come skating tonight. And it worked.” Rose grins.
“I’m so confused,” Lovey says.
“I’ll explain later,” BJ tells her.
“Yeah, you sure will.” She turns to me, her smile warm and inviting. “It’s so cool that you’re here.”
“How do you two know each other, anyway?” BJ motions between me and Lovey.
Lovey glances at me and waves a hand in the air. “Oh, you know, from all the volunteering.”
I’m grateful it seems to be enough of an explanation. And I’m especially grateful when another couple skates over. But for the second time in two minutes, my stomach sinks.
“BJ, fashionably late as ever.” The dark-haired guy, who is strangely familiar, arches an eyebrow and looks at me. “And you brought a friend.”
“Winter? Hey! I had no idea you were coming tonight!” Clover Sweet—it’s her real name—pushes past the dark-haired guy and hops off the ice, pulling me into a hug.
“You know everyone,” BJ says with a curious smile.
“This is a six-degrees-of-separation convention.” Rose motions between me and Clover. “How do you two know each other?”
Clover hugs my arm. “From the library. We bonded over our mutual appreciation of hockey.”
The first time I met Clover, she was standing in the stacks, simultaneously shelving books and trying to read. The second time I met her, I was working on an assignment for my online college course and fell asleep in one of the comfy chairs. She had to wake me because the library was closing. My feet had been propped up on my hockey bag. She helped me gather my things and made small talk, mentioning that her boyfriend coaches here. Since then, we always chat when I come in, so she’s aware that I moved here recently and that I’ve started working at Boones.
The dark-haired guy smirks. “You mean your appreciation of hockey romance?”
“I had no idea that was a thing until I met Clover,” I admit with a grin.