Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Smitty grinned. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. We were visiting friends in Toronto last year and went to one of your games. Geesh, you were on fire that night! And of course, we get the secret special channels so we can watch Jake’s games. Our family was watching the night he punched you. No offense, Bry, but our boy deserved that seat in the sin bin.” She patted my arm sweetly.
“Right. Let’s take this to my office.” I motioned for Smitty to follow me.
“Yes, go on, boys. I’ll grab you water bottles for the road. It’s going to be a warm one.”
“Thanks,” Smitty said.
“You got it.” Tracy scurried off, leaving me with…my new client.
The same guy I’d been in knots over for the past thirty-six hours. God, it would be so easy to slip my hand under the elastic of his shorts, cup his junk through his briefs, roll his balls between my fingers, and—
“You okay?” he asked, ripping me back to reality.
I bit the inside of my cheek hard, then led him through the living room I’d transformed into a lobby and Tracy’s workspace, and the former dining area we now used as a conference room, and into my office where sunlight spilled through the bay windows overlooking the garden.
A huge desk anchored by a red Persian rug faced the ornate fireplace, and two leather chairs flanked the comfy sofa next to the bookshelves lining the wall opposite the windows. Even on gray wintry days, natural light flooded the space, giving it a cozy feel.
I loved this room. It was a warm, inviting refuge and a perfect place to relax with a book at the end of a long day of meeting clients. Like the hockey player I couldn’t seem to shake.
“Take a seat,” I instructed, sliding behind my desk as I pushed my reading glasses on my nose.
Smitty ignored me, of course, and wandered to the bookshelves, studying the various knickknacks and framed photographs. “This must be Jake. How old was he in this one?”
I glanced up from my computer at the picture of the towheaded toddler at the beach. “Two, I think.”
“Cute kid.” He set the photo on the shelf and reached for a book. “Have you read all these?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I will someday. At least that’s the goal. Are you ready to—”
“What’s your favorite book?”
I let out an exasperated sigh and swiveled my chair toward him. “I can’t answer that. I have too many favorites. Let’s get to work, shall we?”
He spared me a passing look but didn’t budge. “I haven’t been much of a reader lately, but I was as a kid. It was a secret thing. My brother was the smart one in our family. He’s an accountant now, and he was always a numbers guy. I was the sporty kid. But what my folks didn’t know was that I was addicted to sci-fi and Lemony Snicket. I used to read with a flashlight under the covers so no one would know. Not that I would’ve gotten in trouble, but they would have asked questions and knowing me, I would’ve gotten defensive.”
I pulled my glasses off and fiddled with the stems. “Your parents thought reading would take away from hockey?”
“Sounds dumb, but my dad was all about focus. ‘Stay focused, son. Keep your eye on the damn puck,’ ” he said, altering his voice gruffly. “He was a good guy, but Dad was all sports all the time. And my mom was—into other things. I think it’s high time to crack open a book for fun. What would you recommend?”
“To Kill a Mockingbird,” I replied automatically.
Smitty spun on his heels, a triumphant expression on his handsome mug. “Great!”
“Am I missing something? You look like you just won a prize or something.”
“I kind of did,” he smirked. “We’re having a conversation. A real one. It started off slow and awkward, but I think you’re gettin’ the hang of this new friendship thing, man.”
I smiled, charmed in spite of my best intentions to remain aloof. “Friendship thing.”
“The neutral, no frills, no muss, no fuss kind with basic conversation. You say something, I say something—back and forth. We can talk about the weather, movies, books…” He waved the book in his hand like exhibit A.
“I see. Well, yes, that’s one of my favorite books and in the spirit of friendship or…a welcome to Elmwood, you’re welcome to borrow it if you’d like. I happen to have more than one copy.”
Smitty flashed a megawatt grin and stalked to the desk, flopping onto one of the chairs. “Are you feelin’ the love or what?”
I rolled my eyes and pushed the glasses on again. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s look at the listings.”
“What do we got?”
“Not much. There’s a house on Birch and another on Maple. After that, I can show you a few in the surrounding area, but that’s it for Elmwood.”