Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
The rink is my home away from home. My playground. Started by my great-grandfather who loved skating and hockey. He decided if he had to go to work every day he might as well enjoy it, so he opened Moore’s Arena. It was passed on to my dad, who started skating before he walked. It was his dream to pass it down to his son. Except his son was born with a vagina and not a penis.
I know he loves me to death, but I always felt I didn’t quite add up.
When I went to see Dad after James cheated with the fat ass, I had to hold him back and threaten to mess with the Zamboni for him to not go and crush him. While I was raging on about the dickhead, I told him I needed something to take my mind off the son of a bitch. His answer was to give me the rink. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. From the moment he laced up my skates as a child and brought me out on the ice it was my second home. Every day early morning practices before school would come in handy. I was the unstoppable girl. I could out skate some of the best boys, and those that I didn’t, I just pushed myself harder.
I came in with fresh new ideas, brought in specialists to help them with their skating, their stick handling, their muscle movements, and put in a top-of-the-line gym. I also brought in different programs, from power skating for young kids, to NHL stars rehabbing with us. Since I’ve started the program two years ago, we’ve just gotten bigger and busier. I’ve had many NHL players comes in on their hiatus to get stronger, making them ready for their upcoming season. Which is why I was going to the rink at the ass crack of night.
Cooper Stone was the best of the best. He was drafted into the pros when he was seventeen. Captain of his NHL team. Top leading scorer in the league. Winner of the Hart Memorial Art Ross trophy, Ted Lindsay Award, Mark Messier Leadership Award, and let’s not forget five Stanley Cups and two Olympic gold medals. Cooper Stone was the NHL. And he was going to be training at my rink.
He was almost thirty, and nothing was slowing him down. Well, nothing until he busted his knee and had to have surgery. I heard he was bitter and angry about it. When his agent reached out to us and asked for help, we had no choice but to say yes. This is what would get us on the map. Even if I had to put up with his diva demands, such as skating at three fucking a.m. Who the fuck can skate at that time, let alone practice and do drills? Apparently, Mr. Stone can.
I run out of the house and start up my Jeep. This was my divorce gift to myself. Well, that and a failed trip to Vegas. Meghan didn’t understand when I said I wasn’t in the mood. She thought it would be good to go out and get laid. I wanted to, even my vagina wanted to take part in it. My head, on the other hand, didn’t get the memo. Instead of going to have a weekend of sex and debauchery, I ended up sitting by the pool and having a relationship with my Kindle.
It takes me four minutes to get to the rink. When I arrive, I notice a black Range Rover already parked. Great, my first day and I’m late. I look at the clock and see it’s 2:57. I’m not late. He’s early.
I turn off my Jeep, fall out—yes, I fall. I’m five foot two, everything is taller than me—and turn around just in time to see him step out of his truck. And I’m taken aback by how hot he is.
His baby blue jeans are well-worn, fitting every part of him like a glove, and when I mean every part of him I’m talking about his package. His white T-shirt is pulled tight across his chest, and his shoulders are square. Then my eyes make their way up to his face. His hair is dark and long in the back, just enough for me to grab ahold of while his face is planted in my vagina. Ummm, WTF ? Did I just picture his face between my legs? That is new.
His face has a day’s worth of stubble, which I know would give my thighs some razor burn. Whoa, don’t go there. Clearly I need to get laid. All thoughts of getting laid run screaming from my head when my gaze meets his and I’m met with ice cold blue eyes.
“You’re late,” he says with attitude.