Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 17
THE STORM IS A DOUCHE
Queenie
This isn’t happening.
Not today. Not when I’m rocking a seriously sweet postsex high. Or was.
Because now a horrible blast from my past is here, ruining everything.
Corey Slater is a giant dick.
His man unit is anything but, however.
He’s the reason I stopped watching hockey for a good six years. Especially when he first made the NHL and played for my favorite team. Even now I tend to avoid the games when I know his team is playing. But I can’t do that anymore. Because he plays for Seattle.
For half a second I consider pretending I don’t know Corey, but I realize it’s probably not a great idea.
Especially with the way he’s smirking.
Corey tips his chin up. “Hey, Queenie.”
“Hello, Corey. It’s been a long time.”
My dad looks between us, head whipping back and forth a few times. Sort of like a cat following a digital mouse on an iPad screen. “You two know each other?”
“We went to college together a long time ago. My first year.” I sound like a robot, but I’m sort of freaking out.
I never thought I’d have to see Corey up close again. Sure, I knew that I’d see him eventually during the season at a game, but he was supposed to be playing for Philly, so I’d only have to see his last name scrawled across his jersey. Not his stupid, smug face every single damn day. Minus my rare days off.
And there’s no way I’ll be able to keep this from Kingston. I realize that it doesn’t look great. Not at all.
“So you’re working for your dad now, huh?” Corey asks.
To most people it might seem like he’s trying to make polite conversation. But I know better. He’s judging me. Because I’m still relying on my daddy to help me survive and he makes millions of dollars a year to shoot a piece of rubber across a slab of ice.
I realize it’s a lot harder than that oversimplification, but again, I’m not excited about seeing him. It means I’m mentally lashing out, because I can’t actually lash out at all. I have to be professional.
“It’s a temporary position. My father’s previous assistant had to take early retirement and I was asked to help out, and since I know hockey, it seemed like a good fit.”
“You definitely know the ins and outs of hockey players,” Corey says, nodding solemnly.
That might sound like a compliment, but really he’s insulting me and insinuating that I’m a stick chaser. And now that I’m working for my dad and dating a member of the team, that’s exactly how it looks.
“Corey needs to complete some paperwork, and it would be great if you could show him around the arena.” My dad usually gives directives with authority, but right now he seems uncertain.
I turn my fake smile on him. “Of course. I’ll need to set up a tablet for him, but if you want the forms completed today, I can see if you have paper copies in your office.”
It’s my way of getting my dad alone for a minute so I can explain and, hopefully, set his mind at ease. Although I’ll be adjusting the amount of information I intend to share, because he sure as hell doesn’t need to know all the details. I’ll give him the bare-bones story and hope like hell Corey is on the same page when it comes to leaving the past where it should stay: buried under a pile of red plastic cups in a college frat house.
I brush past Corey into my dad’s office. He tells Corey to make himself comfortable and follows behind me. My whole body is vibrating with anxious energy, and I’m sweating. I take a deep breath as I turn to face my dad.
“What’s the history between you two?” He thumbs over his shoulder at the closed door.
I have to work hard not to fidget like I usually do when I’m nervous, which I very much am right now. I busy myself by opening his filing cabinet so I can look for the paper copies I made of all the initial paperwork. “It’s nothing to worry about. We dated briefly my first year of college.”
My dad crosses his arms. “How briefly, and which college?”
I’ve been to a few over the years. “Just a couple of months. During my undergrad, when I was taking art and psych.” I transferred closer to home the second semester because I’d said I was homesick. He doesn’t know that Corey was the real reason for the switch. “It’s not a big deal, and it was a long time ago. It’ll be fine. I’m just surprised, since I had no idea he was even a trade option.”
He runs his hand through his hair, lips pursed and his eyes narrowed, as if he’s trying to see inside my brain and find out what’s really going on. “I would’ve told you if I hadn’t been bound by an NDA.”