Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Your mom actually picked up Bella to take her to breakfast before school and happened to drop me off a hot chocolate in the process, saving me my first two stops. And it turns out…when you get to the grocery store that early…there aren’t typically a lot of people. But if I would’ve known you relied on that alone time then-”
“Rely is a stretch.” Igor’s broad, bare shoulders innocently bounce. “Appreesh is more like it.” Another adjustment to the object is made. “It’s still a pretty rookie concept to me.”
“Why?”
“It couldn’t exist before.”
My eyebrows pull together in confusion.
“You’ve got Bella on a schedule now – again pre-school was a brilliant idea – which creates breathing room I don’t have to scramble for. You do the shopping and keep a running list of our needs versus me having to use the spare time post pracky to figure that shit out. You also keep my road shit ready, meaning that’s also one less thing I gotta use my time for. And you’ve got the cleaning lady on a steady scheddie, so I don’t have to worry about her randomly popping in when I’m tryin’ to take a shit or-”
“Rub one out.”
His airy laugh is followed by him nodding as well as lowering the pack. “Believe it or not, her walking in on me is way more awkward than the snipe of my nanny doing it.”
Blushing can’t be stopped.
“However, you walkin’ in on me is still less awkward than me walkin’ in on the boys London Bridging a broadskie past curfew with Fruit By the Foot strips hanging out of their mouths and askin’ me do I want a piece.”
An appalled gag is instantly leaked. “Of the chick or the food?”
“Both.” More vomit-like motions escape me, pulling more chuckles out of Ig. “Yeah, no. Don’t mind splittin’ food but have never been a big fan of tripoding.”
“Too many balls in the air?”
Louder laughs float so freely from him that it’s almost easy to forget the fact he’s damn near naked, nursing me back to health in the kitchen after I interrupted a little one on one session. “Not into sharing.”
My thighs thoughtlessly press together despite that statement having nothing to do with me.
Okay.
Probably nothing to do with me.
“So, just…one on oneskies for you then?”
“Nowadays?” He tosses the pack on the empty space beside me and leans his ass against the space behind him. “Not even those.”
Disbelief darts my eyebrows downward. “Seriously?”
“Da.”
“But like…why?!” Another cringe crosses my expression before I rapidly begin shaking my head. “Never mind! It’s totally none of my business! Who you do and do not do and wanna do is none of my business.”
“Say do again, Joeski.”
The lighthearted teasing receives a solid displaying of my middle finger.
Hearing and seeing more laughs call to mine to yet again join the moment.
Gahhhh….I swear he always gets me giggling like I’ve had nothing but alcoholic eggnog all damn day.
“I haven’t been with anyone since Bella was confirmed to be mine.”
There’s no preventing my jaw from hitting the floor. “What?!”
“Look, I love my little girl more than life itself. I’d rather take a million pucks to the face, non-stop for the rest of my fucking time playing in this barn called existence than ever not have her in my world, but…” His head slowly shakes, anguish momentarily making an appearance. “The situation that led to her? That shit was fucked up. Having my dick do the thinking? Not checking my fucking pride? Putting my bullshit before the boys? That whole scandal could’ve fucking ended my career. Yeah, dudes knock up bunnies all the time, but how many of ‘em had the woman poke holes in the rubber first? Or had the broadskie cry to any fuckin’ outlet that would listen about what a monster the dude was for not being there for them during her pregnancy? Deny – publicly – that the kid is his only for it to actually be leaving him to be nothing but a fucking lying, embarrassment, no club wants let alone needs on their team.” Igor’s hands brace themselves on the edge of the countertop behind to steady his shaky frame. “You know people think it’s just about what you do in the barn that matters when it comes to gettin’ signed and negotiations and avoiding trades, but it’s not. Everything you do…every mistake you make…every fuck up they can hold against you to pay you less they will. And if I’m paid less? That’s less money to take care of my little girl. And if I have to fucking transfer teams again? That’s less stability for her. That’s less time with my parents for her. And taking care of her…making sure she’s happy…is all that fucking matters to me anymore.”
It takes a miracle to keep me in place on the counter.