The Romance Line (Love and Hockey #2) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden, Funny, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Love and Hockey Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
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“Be that as it fucking may, you also do it when you’re bluffing.”

“And two, don’t say a fucking word to anyone.”

He gives me a look like c’mon, man. “You don’t have to say that. I know.”

“I do have to say that. I have to protect her however I can,” I whisper.

He claps my shoulder. “I get it. And if you need anything, I’ve got your back. Know that.”

I smile. “I do. Appreciate it, man.”

“And I appreciate those tix.”

“Asshole,” I mutter playfully.

“Dickhead,” he says in the same tone then returns the way he came, and I head up the stairs. As I go, I lob in a call to Garrett. He’s got clients in every sport. “Any chance you can get me four tickets in a VIP suite to the Renegades for Sunday? I need them for a friend. Put them under the name Asher Callahan, please.”

“Happy to do it,” he says, with no questions asked. “And I spoke with Zaire this morning and after everything that went down, we still got some good press from the other day. And everything is on track for The Ice Men.”

That’s a relief on all fronts. “Great. I hope my likeability quotient is going up,” I say, mostly meaning it. I do hope it’s on the rise. I want this makeover to work. For me, for my family, and for my plans. For my team. I want to stay with the Sea Dogs more than ever since Everly’s here.

But mostly now, I want this makeover to work for her. So she can have all the good things. So she can gain the promotion she deserves. If I’m the path to it, I want to ease the way for her.

“And you’ve got the next community outreach event on Thursday,” he says, reminding me.

“I’ll be there.”

“With a smile on,” he adds importantly.

“With a motherfucking smile,” I say.

But the smile will likely be for her since she’s at the front of my mind.

After I hang up, I stop by her office and hand her a bag of jerseys. She looks up from her desk, quirking a brow as she cautiously asks, “A gift?”

“For Little Friends,” I clarify, and yes, it’s a legit gift, but I also gave them to her in case word got out that I was giving some jerseys to Elias. Don’t want Elias to try to claim to management that he’s tight with the athletes more than she is. They both get the same thank-you gift. “From my friends and me. For putting up with all the shenanigans the other day. I figure they can auction them off on their website if they want and raise some more money.”

Her smile is bright and genuine. “That is very thoughtful.”

“I can be a nice guy,” I say.

And since I heard her loud and clear the other night, I don’t stick around and flirt. I leave, even though it’s hard as hell and I already miss her. As I’m heading down the hall, I send her a text.

Max: You have no idea how hard it was not to kiss you.

Everly: Actually, I do. I felt the same with you.

My pulse speeds up, and I want to frame her last note. The admission from her. Dear god, the fucking admission.

But instead, I school my expression as I stop by Elias’s cubicle. He gulps when he looks up from his computer. “Hey, man, how’s it going?” he asks, sitting up straighter.

“Just wanted to thank you for your help earlier in the week with Dogs on Ice. It was kind of crazy but I appreciate everything you did,” I say evenly, like I don’t have a single ulterior motive.

He waves a dismissive hand. “No worries, man. That must have been rough. My ex-girlfriend keeps trying to get back together with me too.”

Oh, wow. He’s really going there, playing the bro-bonding card. But that just makes this visit easier.

“What can you do, right?” I ask, sympathetically, like we’re just two dudes with the same problems.

“It’s tough,” he says.

“Anyway, I wanted to thank everyone who helped out. So I got some of my buddies to sign jerseys. Figured you can give them away at an upcoming game,” I say, then hand him the bag.

When he peers inside, his eyes pop. “This is amazing. Thank you so much.”

I clap him on the shoulder. “I figured, you know, athlete to athlete, that you’d appreciate it.”

If I’d thought his eyes sparkled before, it’s nothing compared to how they look now. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what you call a fake-out.

He thinks I’m his friend now.

36

MY ESCAPE

Everly

When the buzzer rings on Sunday, my chest is flipping. My heart feels far too fluttery for my own good.

It’s just a date.

That’s all it is.

It can’t go anywhere.

But as I tell him through my camera app that I’ll be right down, I sound like I’ve been counting down the hours to see him—and I have.


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