Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
What a fucking prick.
It’d be nice if a stunt like this could finally end his career but based on the way her body is melting in minor defeat, I’m guessing it won’t.
“Hennington, I love this team,” Hank begins again, tone passionate yet pained. “You know I love this team. I loved it long before that fucking Newfie was signed-”
“Fuck you, old man.”
“-and I’ll love it long after I no longer have to deal with him.”
“Hank-”
“There’s an athletic educator position open at my grandson’s school,” he continues on, a genuine smile finding its way to his face, “and I’m gonna accept the offer they made. I’m gonna take the rest of the summer off, spend time with my family, and enjoy whatever time I have left on this big blue marble as far away from fuckheads like him as I possibly can.”
Harlow’s body begins to sink once more causing a noticeable ache to begin in my chest. “But Hank-”
“You’re gonna be a good GM, Hennington,” Hank states with a heavy-hearted sigh. “And despite assholes like him, which I know you can’t get rid of, you’re gonna do great things for this team. You’re gonna make your old man proud.” He steps closer to give her a sweet pat on the shoulder. “Just don’t put up with the same bullshit he did. Have. Higher. Standards.”
Rather than try to convince him to stay, she simply nods in agreement.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to clear out my things.”
She understandingly nods again and allows Hank to exit the room in the dignified silence I’m sure he deserves.
Once the door audibly shuts, an ugly, inhuman roar of frustration rips free from Harlow on a stomp of her flat covered feet. “Fuck!”
“Gonna be hard to handle a season without enough ice bitches, Hennington.” Page smugly smirks.
“Good thing she has enough then,” I taunt back, arms folding firmly across my chest. “She just hired me.”
Oh shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
What did I just say?
Fuck. Me.
What did I just do?!
“It’s almost like I knew you were gonna pull a stunt like this,” Harlow snips his direction, willingly playing along—at least for the moment. “Either I’m getting smarter or you’re getting more predictable.”
“It’s probably both,” Margot smoothly contributes to the chiding.
Page’s jaw tightens at the same time he tosses me an unhappy grunt. “Where ya longs to?”
“Doesn’t matter where he’s from. What matters, Page, is that he’s the new assistant equipment manager.” Margot drops one hand on her hip on a condescending cocking of her head. “Does the GM need to sing it to you in rhymes for you to understand?”
He narrows his gaze at her yet doesn’t bite back.
“Milano Blanc, head coach,” he informs and steps across the space to shake hands.
“Brendan Brickley, but everyone calls me Bricks.”
“Look forward to working with you, Bricks.”
“Speaking of work,” Harlow nonchalantly segues, “Blanc, please shut down the barn for the rest of the day.”
“You got it, Hennington.”
“Uh…if you shut that shit down then what the fuck am I supposed to do for training?” Page gripes in obvious annoyance.
“Maybe play in traffic?” The owner of the team sasses back on a shoulder shrug. “Make us both winners?”
“You’re definitely getting smarter, Hennington, because that’s a brilliant idea,” Margot chimes in, pushing the troll known as Page to storm out of the space.
Blanc poorly hides his chuckles before he asks, “Is shit like that what you meant by me having my work cut out for me?”
“Tip of the skate, Blanc. Tip. Of. The. Fucking. Skate.”
He expels a hard sigh and shakes his head. “I’ll go lock up. Call Craig. Have him come in early. Tell him he’s been promoted then maybe spitball some ideas on restructuring the equipment team not only for efficiency but to be better prepared for shit like this.”
“Great idea,” she immediately agrees.
“We’ll be speaking again soon I’m sure,” Blanc points my direction prior to exiting the room.
Maybe?
Possibly?
“I’ll go pull your new hire paperwork,” Margot volunteers, turning back the direction we came. “Good thing we already did your background check. Saves us all some time.”
“You did what now?” I mumble over my shoulder at her only to be met by silence.
This time when the sound of the door shutting echoes around the empty locker room Harlow smacks her lips, “First off? Great gino against Page.”
A smile slides into place at the same time I shift my attention to her.
Gino means goal.
I already know this one.
Feels like I should get another because I do.
She extends her balled fist for me to bump, so I do. “That was good.” Her hand falls back to her side. “Real good. Winslow is too chicken shit to step to players, Margot isn’t typically listening when they chirp, and Letty has a face that most people think is too sweet to say mean shit to let alone believe mean shit that comes from it.”