Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Plain cream cheese.”
“So you’re not Satan. That’s good to know,” I snarked.
Nolan chuckled. “I do like hot-mustard Doritos, though.”
“Never mind. You are Satan,” I deadpanned. “You still like chick flicks?”
He kicked my ankle under the counter. “I never liked chick flicks.”
“Pretty Woman ring any bells?”
“Shut up. Everyone likes that movie.”
“Not me. I don’t like Cinderella stories. They’re so…predictable. Boy meets girl, falls in love, snore, snooze, snore, boy loses girl, snore, snooze, boy wins girl back. Continue snooze.” I bit the inside of my cheek when he busted up laughing. “Gimme Lord of the Rings any day.”
“Viggo Mortensen. Yes, please,” he said in a campy tone I’d never heard from him…ever.
It threw me off guard. It was kind of…gay. He was gay and I was sitting next to him, tingling all over ’cause I was wildly attracted to him, and that was gay. And all this gayness felt like a superhero power I’d finally worked up the nerve to use.
I fixed my gaze on his mouth. “You’re so fucking hot.”
Nolan furrowed his brow and glanced over his shoulder. “Your voice carries, Vin. You’re going to scandalize the natives.”
“I don’t think I care. Come home with me,” I purred.
He trailed his fingers along the inside of my knee. “I can’t. I’m covering for Stella, but I’ll see you at practice.”
Fair enough.
Where the fuck is Elmwood? I’m going to personally come there to pull your fishing rod out of your hands and shove it up your ass if you don’t call me back. Now.
I stared at the message for a beat, weighing the threat. Yeah, she might do that.
So, I scrolled Sienna’s number and pushed Send.
“When did you get so violent?” I asked in greeting.
She snorted indignantly. “When you stopped returning my phone calls. What’s your deal? All that fresh air must have gone to your head and I’m happy for you, but…I also need you in Miami. Can you be here on the twenty-sixth?”
“The twenty-sixth,” I repeated, rubbing my stubbled jaw.
I was busy that day…maybe. I couldn’t remember why, though. I squinted at the sunlight reflected off the window of the corner coffee shop, tilting my chin politely to a woman pushing a baby carriage. I was pretty sure I’d pulled her pigtails in kindergarten and—
“Vinnie?”
“Uh, sorry. I don’t know. I’ll check my schedule and text you, okay?”
She sighed heavily. “You promised, Vin.”
I winced. “I know. Shit, okay. I’ll make it work. Just…text me the info and I’ll fix my schedule.”
“What’s on your schedule? I thought you were relaxing.”
“I am. But I’m working with juniors at my buddy’s rink.”
“Aww, now that’s cute!” Sienna gushed. “Why didn’t you lead with that, asshole? I want to see you coaching.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
“Why not? I’ll come see you. I’ll—”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I gotta run,” I intercepted.
“Fine. Text me!”
She hung up before I could argue or agree. Just as well. I had places to be.
I dropped a bag of hot-mustard Doritos on the bench. “For you.”
Nolan finished tying his skates and looked up. He examined the bag, chuckling lightly. “Thank you. You’re spoiling me with—”
“You fucking dickhead! You’re the laziest piece of shit out here.”
“Are you kidding? You suck, Max. You suck eggs, you suck dick, you suck…”
“Whoa.” I jumped over the board and skated to center ice where Max had Kinney in a headlock. I shoved a few onlookers aside and pulled the two lugheads out of the scrum. “What the fuck is the matter with you two?”
Nolan joined me a moment later, his brow furrowed with concern. I was sure he’d reprimand me for F-bomb usage, but he was too focused on the disgruntled teens. “Well?”
“Nothing,” Max grumbled testily. “Just tired of losing ’cause Kinney doesn’t know the meaning of the word pass.”
“Chill, Max. This is summer league. It’s not that big of a deal,” Jason chided.
“That’s why we’re still losing. Losers always come up with excuses,” someone else chimed in.
“You’re the fuckin’ loser.”
“Yeah, right, asshole. You can’t find the puck with both hands and you can’t…”
Nolan and I shared a bemused look as our band of usually mellow teens dissolved into utter chaos. He blew his whistle and waved his arms above his head while I pulled bodies apart and let out a berserk roar that had the usual effect of startling a crowd into silence.
I gave Nolan what I hoped transmitted as “I got this” vibes, put my hands on my hips, and pivoted in a half circle, coolly eyeing the boys.
“Hey, no one wins the blame game. The only way a team wins is when they work together…as a team. I’ve been here for almost two months, and I can honestly say I didn’t think winning mattered much to you guys. I wasn’t sure you were listening to Coach Nolan or me. Maybe I was wrong. Was I? Do you actually want to win a fucking game?” I challenged.