Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Sophie dips her head and covers her mouth with her hand to hide a laugh. Aneta’s expression suggests she can’t believe I’ve shunned her.
I can’t imagine what she looks like now as I turn to Jenna, take her hands in mine, and lean in to kiss her cheek. “I’m really glad you made it tonight.”
When I pull back, Jenna is stunned, but I’m shielding her from the other women so they can’t see her shock. I squeeze her hands in reassurance. “Want to get a drink?”
She nods mutely.
Tucking her hand in the crook of my elbow, I glance at Sophie. “Baden’s looking for you. We’ll join you soon.”
Sophie’s eyes express her gratitude for pulling her from the situation. She jets out quickly.
I tip my head to the women staring agog. “Ladies.”
Jenna dutifully follows me out of the room and through two more to get to the other bar, far away from that crowd.
“What would you like?” I ask her as we step up.
“White wine is fine,” she murmurs. “And thank you for the save.”
I give our order to the bartender, requesting a beer for myself. Leaning an elbow on the bar, I look down at Jenna. “That wasn’t a save. I wanted to hang.”
“That was a save,” she declares with a slight eye roll. “I didn’t know one woman could prattle on so long about her lipstick collection.”
I bark out a laugh as the bartender hands me the drinks. I give Jenna the wineglass and throw a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar.
“Cheers,” I say, offering my beer bottle out to her. She lightly taps her wineglass, staring at me over the rim.
“Cheers.”
Those fucking eyes.
She sips the wine and… those fucking lips.
I tip my bottle back, concentrating on the fizz of ale going down my throat. I have got to stop thinking about her that way because Jenna needs a friend more than she needs me ogling.
“Let’s go find somewhere quiet to sit and talk,” I suggest.
“You don’t have to, Gage,” Jenna says quickly. “I know you rescued me from those women, but this is a Titan party. You should have fun… go hang with your friends.”
“You’re my friend,” I reply with a pointed look and take her elbow in hand. “And I want to hang with you.”
I lead Jenna into another room. We pass Baden and Sophie talking to Coach Keller. Sophie’s gaze connects with mine, and she mouths, “Thank you.”
For saving her from Aneta, I’m sure, but also for being a friend to Jenna.
Both work for me.
We find a table near the back, in the main dining area. Many of the tables are occupied by people taking some time to sit down and eat. Brienne is sitting with Callum Derringer and a handful of other execs, perhaps talking business, perhaps just getting to know one another better.
I hold out a chair for Jenna, and she sits gracefully, setting her wineglass on the table before her. She crosses one leg over the other and tugs upward on her collar.
There’s no doubt it’s a habit, and I’d like to tell her she doesn’t have to do that with me, but why would she believe such an assertion? She barely knows me.
Once again, she tries to put me off. “I really do appreciate this, Gage, but seriously… are you sure you wouldn’t rather hang out with the guys? They’re all having a good time, you can tell. You should be bonding with them.”
“They’re young pups,” I reply as I take the chair adjacent, angling it so I can stretch my legs out to the side and face her. I glance over at a group across the room who are getting a bit rowdy. “I’m too old to hang with them anymore, and we bond plenty in the locker room and on the ice.”
Jenna snorts, eyes twinkling with humor as her fingers slide along the rim of her wineglass. “You’re not old. Maybe just wise.”
“Maybe a bit of both,” I say with a grin.
“What’s been your biggest adjustment coming out of retirement?” she asks.
This, I like.
Conversation.
And not just trite questions. Everyone always asks the why of things. Why did you come out of retirement? Why are you doing this?
Never how is it going, Gage? Because surely nothing about this is easy.
But Jenna stares at me with avid interest.
I toy with the label on my beer bottle as I consider my answer. When my eyes lift to hers, I say, “It’s been hard getting used to the pace of things. Always needing to be somewhere at a certain time. Rushing to get to sleep at night just to rush to catch an early plane. Hopping from arena to home to plane, to hotel, to home, to arena. The schedule is exhausting.”
“You were leading a lazy life in retirement is what you’re saying?” she asks, eyes flashing with humor.