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)
It still made my heart skitter ’cause this was Vinnie and we’d done this together…in front of our hometown. We’d conquered old demons, set aside old hurts, and fostered a new generation of players. It was a summertime lark of a championship in a town no one could find on a map, but damn, it felt fucking magical.
Handshakes, hugs, back slaps, and general well-wishes passed in a happy blur. My mom had tears in her eyes, Mary-Kate attached herself to her dad’s hip, grinning as he presented the modest trophy to Vinnie and me, thanking us for putting our little patch of Vermont on the map.
And then there were photos—team photos, coach photos, silly photos, serious photos. Everyone wanted a pic with Vinnie, and he insisted I had to be in them too, so I stayed at his side, soaking in the jubilation.
We were joined by local business owners and the who’s who of the four-town Forest League. Shop owners who’d donated to the league, council members, parents, and his buddy, NHL star, Riley “Trunk” Thoreau, a six-foot-three hunk of muscle with steel-gray eyes, dark-brown hair, and a sunny smile.
Vinnie greeted him with a bro hug, affectionately punching his biceps. “What are you doing here?”
Riley grinned. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t miss it. I was visiting my folks in Toronto, so it wasn’t too hard to find you. Why didn’t you tell me you were coaching kids this summer? I would have helped.”
“I didn’t know I was,” Vinnie replied. “Hey, Trunk, I want you to meet Nolan. We grew up together. He owns the diner in Elmwood that serves fries that are twenty times better than Blue Line Burgers.”
“They must be good.” Trunk widened his eyes as he shook my hand. “My flight leaves tonight. Maybe I’ll stop in beforehand.”
“Good idea.”
“Sienna says you’re outta here in the morning too,” Trunk continued conversationally.
Vinnie furrowed his brow. “Sienna?”
And right on cue, a beautiful woman in a slinky floral sundress flew into Vinnie’s arms, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulder in elegant waves as she molded herself to his chest.
“Hey, handsome. Surprise.”
Oh.
Fuck.
A twitter and hum rippled and cameras flashed. I moved to give her room and found myself relegated to a spectator status while my secret boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend kissed him in front of…everyone.
And that was a kiss.
Not a sexy one—more of a mash of lips than anything, but it was still a kiss. It was the possessive kind that drew lines and staked claims. It was a reminder that Vinnie Kiminski belonged on a bigger stage with celebrities, sponsorships, fans from around the world, and infinitely more glamorous friends.
When she finally released him, she slinked her arm through his, beaming as she extended her hand. “I’m Sienna. You must be Nolan. Congratulations on your win.”
Oh. Fuck. September was here early.
13
VINNIE
I gently untangled Sienna’s arm from mine and caught Nolan’s wrist just as the photographer for the Fallbrook Daily cleared some hockey revelers out of the way to snap a few pics.
“This is wonderful! Our readers are going to go bonkers. Now can I get Mr. Thoreau, Ms. Montrose, and—don’t you dare go anywhere, Zimbo! Front and center, please,” she directed.
Another professional photographer descended. This guy wanted team shots with Trunk and Sienna, me, and…Nolan, but he was off to the side.
Then Ronnie and me with the coaches from all of the teams, plus Trunk and Sienna…and Nolan, off to the side.
And more of me and Sienna. A lot more of me and Sienna.
I couldn’t find Nolan in the mass of bodies anymore, but I smiled and tried to tell myself the social media frenzy was almost funny. Our tiny town was on the map for the first time ever and Ronnie was over the moon. Hell, everyone was.
The beautiful model and NHL players mixing with the locals was news. And after an epic win, it was almost too good to be true. Everyone sensed it and fought to capture the moment for Instagram likes and TikTok reels.
That was okay. This was all…okay. It wasn’t about me. Or Nolan.
It was about the kids.
I would have loved a minute or two alone with Nolan, but that wasn’t in the cards. Celebrations sprouted up all over Elmwood, even at the diner.
So I concentrated on being the life of the party. I congratulated the boys, schmoozed their parents, and shook hands like a politician, smiling till my cheeks hurt. I kept an eye out for Nolan too, but he was suddenly elusive. I’d spotted him earlier, helping his staff serve burgers, fries, and shakes by the dozens while Ronnie and I held court with the team and our celebrity guests on the back lawn.
“Your friends are cool,” Ronnie commented, fiddling with the bill of his Slammers ball cap. “And Sienna’s…very pretty.”
I glanced over to Trunk and Sienna chatting amicably with Mrs. Moore and nodded absently. “Yeah. Hey, have you seen Nol?”