Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“I’m okay. I’m just on edge from tonight. It’s been…a lot.”
“We’re going home.”
My head shakes violently. I don’t want that. I can’t start this business relationship like this. Not on a freak-out that he’s misunderstanding.
“I’d rather have the drink,” I say, offering a smile that I’m sure misses the mark.
His eyes narrow, but he nods, stepping in front of me and grabbing my hand to lead.
It’s hard to maneuver around the throngs of people, but lucky for me, Aiden guides us expertly through the crowd, attempting to get as close to the bar as possible. To get me the drink I so desperately need for about a million reasons.
They’re all hoping and praying the bartender will take pity on them and ask for their order, but with a bar full of NHL players, they might be there for a while.
Good luck to them.
This place is insane.
Complete chaos.
So much so, that it’s actually perplexing that Aiden, or at least the Aiden I remember, would ever be caught dead here.
But I guess, like me on his arm, it’s part of the act. A well-constructed wall erected to keep him momentarily safe while secretly fighting a battle royale internally. One likely similar to what I’m experiencing.
My footsteps slow, but his hand tightens around mine and gives me a squeeze, urging me on.
“Come on. We’re almost there,” he says from beside me.
I lift onto my tippy-toes while trying to keep up the pace, looking to see where he’s leading me. My anxiety ebbs when I realize we’re headed away from the bar and the massive crowd standing around it.
The guys are in their own area, away from the mayhem.
Pulling my gaze away from the guys, I look at Aiden, studying his profile.
Yep, his calm nonchalance is all an act. Maybe someone less observant wouldn’t see it, but I can tell by the tension in his jaw, the straight line of his lips, and his rigid posture.
He’s walking a thin line, just barely keeping himself in check. This must be killing him.
Aiden has always hated crowds. He told me back at the trailer that he tried to work on controlling his anxiety, but he hated it. It looks like he’s doing better than the last time I saw him, but at what cost to him? How will he suffer later?
The thing about the quirks that make Aiden unique is that every ounce of strength he possesses goes into controlling himself from exposing what he deems weakness to the outside world. This leaves him physically and mentally exhausted. The toll is hefty.
He ushers me through a roped-off area in the back, and I’m immediately on high alert.
Time to play the part.
His teammates are drinking already, likely well on their way to intoxication. They seem like good guys, but every single one of them knows that every girl in here wants them. The air reeks of arrogance and entitlement.
Sure, they’re good-looking and another level of wealthy, but most women want so much more than that. They want stability. Passion. To feel safe in all aspects. By flaunting their wealth—wearing their expensive, name-brand clothes and fancy watches and consuming top-shelf drinks—they’re attracting the wrong girls who don’t even know it.
Or maybe they do, and they just don’t care?
It’s kind of crazy. Over the last few years, ever since I saw that Aiden had gone pro, I’ve tried to keep far away from all things hockey. I didn’t want any more reminders of him. Now that I’m here, I wish I knew a tad more about the guys. Wouldn’t Aiden’s girlfriend know a little more about hockey and the guys he spends most of his time with?
My heart rattles in my chest as we make our approach. I know that with every interaction, the questions will get more complex. More personal.
It all feels like a test. One I’m going to fail.
I’m trying to fool the world that I’m his girlfriend and not just a woman he’s hired to keep him in check.
It feels like all eyes are on me, and I’m suddenly unsure that I can play this part convincingly.
Aiden must notice my hesitation because he stops walking, and I look at him. His brow is raised as he takes a step toward me so that we’re toe-to-toe.
“You good? Because if you don’t wanna do this, just say so.” The bite in his tone shocks and confuses me. I get that my steps have been reluctant, but I said I was fine, so why the attitude?
Because you’re not fooling anyone, that’s why.
I’m sure everyone within a mile radius can tell you don’t want to be here, present company included.
If I were Aiden, I'd be pissed too.
I blink several times, shift my weight from my left foot to my right, and cross my arms over my chest, mouth flapping open, likely making me look like a guppy caught in a net. I need to respond, but my brain is failing me.