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)
Bet a Benny she wanted to say dick touched and is censoring herself for my daughter.
“Everyone lean in,” Hoss directs after I throw her back the restored writing utensil. “Tighter.” My parents inch closer towards me while Joey remains put. “Tighter.” Yet again they follow the instruction, but my fake nanny doesn’t. “For Cripes Sake, Slayer. Tighter. As in closer.”
“I’m not a-” is all that manages to leave Joey’s mouth thanks to my arm curling around the edge of her figure to warmly embrace her. For a second time, my thumb executes a comforting stroke except she doesn’t shiver.
She.
Fucking.
Melts.
She simply snuggles into my hold like it’s the only place she belongs and encourages our daughter – er – my daughter to get even cuter for the camera. “Show everyone Daddy’s number again, Bella.”
Her finger joyfully taps her cheek inspiring the others that are gathered for the footage to do the same.
After we’re finished, Frosky skates over, devilish smile stretched from ear to ear, and playfully asks, “Oh, shit. Am I missin’ camera time with Hoss?”
“Nope,” Hoss sneers, spins on her heels, and motions to the camera man to follow her elsewhere.
“Ish,” Joey sweetly corrects, capturing Snowman’s attention.
“Huh?”
“We’re working on language around Bella,” I immediately inform.
“Hi, Uncle Frosty!!!”
“Hi, Princess Bella!” he cheerfully greets in return, glove extended for a fist bump. “You ready to see Daddy and Uncle Frosty bring home a W?”
“Yeah!”
“A big W?”
“So big!”
“Show me your gino pose.”
“Goooaaalllll!” She shouts at the same time she throws her hands victoriously in the air.
“Atta girl.” He winks prior to acknowledging my parents. “Mama A. Papa A.”
“Snowman,” they address in unison.
“Glad to see you got the A,” Father states on a proud nod. “You deserve it.”
“Appreesh.”
“We could def use a few studs like you on my team,” Father light heartedly adds. “My back’s gettin’ tired.”
Of course, he’d bring up his team at my game.
I mean…why wouldn’t he, aye?
“And who is this snipe?” Frosky slyly inquires during a lean forward. “And why do you look so familiar?” His infamous, nauseatingly cocky smirk slips into place. “Is it because you were skating through my dreams last night?”
Harshly checking him into the boards is done without a second thought.
“Fuck!”
“Tiny words, tiny ears, Uncle Frosky,” Joey instantly scolds.
“Just making sure your pads are in place, bud,” I smoothly insist while roughly patting the top of his bucket hard enough to guarantee that the object knocks brutally into his skull. “Part of warmies.” Sharp slaps to his back are given next. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, you effing beauty.”
Snowman slowly nods, flashes the group a parting smile, and wisely skates away, shaking off the discomfort in the process.
Probably not the best move for a captain.
Or…is it?
Pretty sure that protecting what’s his, from those that have no business going after it, is in my basic title description.
Grabbing my glove is attached to announcing the obvious, “I need to go warm up.”
“Really work on those punch turns,” Father unnecessarily instructs. “I’m sure Blanc told you the same thing.”
Nope.
Most of his tips were about executing cleans hits to keep my ass out of the sin bin.
“Say good luck Daddy,” Joey sweetly states to my daughter who is busy trying to retrieve her pom poms from the floor.
“Good luck, Daddy! I love you.”
“I love you.” It takes more than I would’ve ever imagined not to repeat the phrase to the woman holding her. “And I’ll see you when I get home.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Gonna guess not naked with a brewskie in the middle of my bed like she was in my dreams last night.
And now that I mention it…those are probably not the best thoughts to be having about my new fake nanny, let alone the real one I want her to be.
Chapter 7
Joey
It’s been four days, and I still can’t find any communication threads between us.
Not an email.
Not a phone call.
Not even a social media like.
I swear it’s as if I just woke up one day and decided to work for him.
Which is another reason why I hate my condition.
It’s so inconvenient having to play a game of Clue with my own fucking life.
There are too many characters, too many rooms, and too many possibilities for what may have caused an episode as well as why I don’t have information about my current situation.
According to Berkeley Cross, my best friend, she doesn’t have any copies of employment information or notes I made – meaning I most likely had an episode before I could send it over to her – and she doesn’t think it’s a good time to discuss the reason my mind thought it was April when it’s really October.
Unfortunately, prematurely poking at a gap in my memory can actually cause another episode.
Over the years, Berks has gotten pretty good about being able to predict when that’s more likely than less likely to occur like my own emotional prophet leading me to rely on her judgment in that department.