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)
Yard Sale, the hockey themed pub named after the well known action, in The Locker District is packed. And according to Snowman it’s always packed, which is the main reason he loves it with the other being that they’re recognized but not bombarded. Craig calls it similar to that of The Viper room, a comparison that’s lost on all of us given the clueless expression we all share.
We’re sat on the opposite side of the room from the front door but close enough to the bar for us to talk shit to the bartender who evidently is a huge fan. Fun laid back conversation between our group and him cause something inside me to twitch that hasn’t since I stepped off the plane months ago.
I guess…part of me misses that.
Being back there.
Demonstrating my knowledge.
Mixing skills.
Meeting new people.
Shit talking with regulars.
Bonding over stupid shit.
And I guess part of me misses my old bosses even though we still text when we have time.
I wouldn’t say being here, drinking a damn good glass of Runt’s is making me homesick because this is my home—Harlow, the team, the goats—but I can say it is making me think back on how quickly shit has changed.
How quickly shit can always change.
Especially when you’re not expecting it to.
Craig bounces after just the one beer, but when I attempt the same shit Snowman puts an instant halt to it. “Come on, bro. You gotta stay for one more after that Connor McDavid shit you pulled at pracky.”
“It wasn’t that good,” Page grunts from his space directly across from me.
“Oh, then your trick shot attempt was just that bad,” Snowman taunts with a childish grin.
“Clearly McVie was a bit mauzy on the instructions,” he grumbles as he picks up his glass.
Rather than argue with his leader and commander, he innocently shrugs.
Fucked up thing is…I almost feel bad for McVie. Like he’d be such a better player and just a better fucking person if he could unlatch his mouth from Page’s balls.
“I can tell you one thing I’m not mauzy about you Newfish fuck, and that’s the group of bunnies at twelve o’clock coming our way.” Snowman let’s his grin grow dangerously wide. “Come. To. Daddy.”
“Nope,” I chuckle while lifting my beer. “You should definitely not say that shit.”
Laughter erupts at the table prompting the already prowling females to speed up their process of reaching us.
Naturally, the young, energetic, bouncy group of strictly blondes, fawn and latch onto all of the players, including the married ones. The team as a whole welcomes the attention. Eats it up. Says trite textbook pick up line shit that makes me roll my eyes and prepare to bail now that they’re properly occupied.
Scooting my chair back to begin my exit becomes my move yet is unexpectedly stopped by a female that’s obviously late to their puck bunny party.
She plops herself in the seat right over my shoulder, smiles wide, and introduces herself. “I’m Lexi!”
Angling myself to better face her is done at the same time I inform, “I’m not a player.”
To my surprise, she doesn’t seem deterred. “Friend?”
“Manager.” My face unconsciously scrunches prior to my correction. “Er…assistant equipment manager.”
“Not sensing any SDE about it,” she warmly states on a smirk and pulls her hair to one side of her face, “so tell me your name.”
Reluctance occurs effortlessly. “Bricks.”
“Sexy,” she coos at the same time she tosses one long toned leg over the other. “How long you been with the team?”
“Um…since…really late spring or really early summer depending on how you tell time.”
“With a clock like everyone else.”
Her snarky comment causes me to lightly chuckle. “Regular or hockey?”
This time she giggles and shoots me a small nod of approval. “No SDE and you’ve got rizz?” She takes a small bite of pink, glossed lips before teasing, “You sure you’re not a player?”
“I like just graduated to fucking Puckhead.”
Lexi giggles a second time and does something else unexpected. “Let me buy you a drink? Talk shop for a bit?”
Another wave of hesitation hits harder than the first.
Probably not the best idea.
I should probably go home.
Check on Harlow.
See if she needs anything rather than stay here surrounded by half-dressed cheerleader wannabes.
“Ask him about his Connor McDavid moment!” Snowman shouts from his position beside McVie.
“It wasn’t that good,” I bashfully deny.
“God, I’d ride him like the Grey Hound from here to the mitten,” Lexi loudly coos.
Curiosity immediately grabs a hold of my judgement. “You’re from the mitten?”
“A2 originally.”
“No fucking shit!” Excitement has me tossing a hand in the air. “That’s where I moved from!”
“No shit!” She squeaks in return. “No yeah, you have to let me buy you a drink now. You are the first person I’ve met in this state who even fucking knows where that is!”
I warmly chuckle and nod in understanding. “It’s fucking wild, right? How many people don’t know what that shit is?”