Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Marco,” the boy says.
“Marco, what position do you play?” Dane asks as he writes on a piece of paper.
“Defense and sometimes goalie,” Marco says.
“Awesome. Keep your grades up, okay? And listen to your parents; they know what they’re talking about.”
Marco nods and a man waiting nearby asks if he can take a photo. Dane stands up and stands next to Marco, smiling for several photos.
“I guess we look like his assistants,” Aiden mutters when Dane sits back down.
Dane grins. “Hey, if you want kids to ask for your autograph, try to suck less.”
Aiden scoffs and glances at me. “Feeling any better, Josie?”
“Better than last night,” I say. “Thanks.”
I look at Dane, who has half a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him, the other half of the plate loaded with bacon, sausage and fruit. “Did you ask the housekeeper how Mr. Darcy’s doing?”
Dane shrugs. “He’s alive.”
I glare at him across the table. “Is he eating? Does he seem anxious?”
“How’s my housekeeper supposed to know if your cat is anxious?” He scoops a forkful of eggs into his mouth, sounding completely uninterested.
“I told you what to ask her, and instead, you asked if he’s alive.” I shake my head.
Aiden gestures toward the breakfast buffet. “You better eat. We’re out of here in five minutes.”
I grab a muffin and some yogurt from the buffet and head for the bus, not in the mood to watch Dane feed his face.
The bus takes us to a small arena where the team does a pregame skate and then to the downtown Boston arena where the team is playing tonight. Dalton and Dane are both stopped by reporters shortly after stepping off the bus, and I linger nearby so I can hear Dane’s interview.
“Dane, Boston has a four-game winning streak going. How will you approach playing them tonight?”
Dane grins at the beautiful female reporter. “We beat ’em last time we were here. If we stay focused, I think we’ll walk away with another win.”
“Have you heard about Abigail Matthews, the fan who’s trending on social media with the hashtag datemedane?”
“No clue about that.”
“She’s a law student at the University of Chicago who wants you to take her out on a date.”
He smiles. “I’m flattered, but right now, I have to focus on tonight’s game and the ones we have coming up. We’ve got a tough stretch ahead and we need to keep our eye on the ball.”
“Thanks, Dane. Good luck tonight.” She flashes him her million-dollar smile and he nods.
If anyone’s ego wasn’t in need of a boost, it’s Dane. But of course, as I trail behind him entering the arena, I’m searching the hashtag the reporter mentioned.
FFS. Abigail Matthews is a stunning redhead. She’s pictured in one of the posts at a Mammoths game, looking radiant in a jersey with Dane’s number on it.
Dane stops walking and turns around, waiting for me to catch up.
“Hey, could you drop off some dry cleaning at a one-hour place for me today?” he asks.
“I don’t know...could you pick up some tampons and lube for me?”
“Fuck no,” he says, wrinkling his nose.
“I’m not your assistant.”
He rolls his eyes. “I know. I just thought since you’ll be here for the next ten hours or so, you could do an errand for me.”
“You thought wrong.”
He scowls. “You come off all cute and helpful, but you’re kind of a viper, Nosy.”
Better a viper than a doormat. But more importantly...he thinks I’m cute?
“I’m here to do the job I was assigned.”
He arches a brow. “Do you really need lube? Do you have an issue with dryness down there?”
My face burns with embarrassment. “No. I don’t need tampons, either. It was just an example.”
“Sure it was.” He winks at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”
I want to shove him aside like the annoyance he is, but if I tried, it would be like trying to push over a brick wall. He walks into the locker room and I follow.
Gina said she’d help me find a room for my Zoom meeting, so I find her and put Dane out of my mind. I’m looking forward to my meeting, where I can be reminded I have job skills other than shadowing an obnoxious hockey player.
The Mammoths lost to Boston, 3–2. The mood on the bus to the airport is gloomy. Most of the guys have headphones on.
This bus is small, and nearly every seat is filled. I have to sit next to Dane instead of sitting alone, and he’s spent the entire ride so far texting. His jaw is set and his expression is pissed off as his fingers fly over the phone screen.
Who is he texting? I’m dying to know, but I can’t get even a peek at his screen.
He passed me a Dramamine when he walked out of the locker room, not saying a word. I’m assuming he’s angry about losing the game like the rest of the team seems to be.