Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Powerade,” he said.
“Oh, do you need one before the game?” I spun toward the fridge, prepared to grab the purple one he loved so much, but he laughed, stopping me.
“No,” he said. “That’s who I’m signing an endorsement deal with.”
Oh, duh.
“Do you get free Powerade for life now?” I asked, fascinated by his career.
“That would be legit, right?” He shook his head. “Just the money and some free cases for Reaper games under the condition we’re recorded or photographed drinking them.” He shrugged. “Luckily most of the guys already have it stocked for them anyway.”
“Nice,” I said, silence filling up the space after my response. I lingered, reaching for something to say. Maxim was usually getting ready to head out for all the pre-game rituals by now, but he hung back in the kitchen, pursing his lips every now and then like he was holding something back.
“Do you want to come to the game today?” he asked, his tone softer than I’d likely ever heard it. “I could get you a pretty stellar seat.”
“Oh,” I said, instantly wanting to say yes but knowing full well I couldn’t. “I have a ton of work to do today,” I explained. “I was just getting my head on straight with the baking before I planned to dive in.” My heart screamed at me that I was an idiot. Maxim had never personally invited me to a game, that had to mean something right? Or was he just being nice because I was staying here?
“That’s okay,” he said. “I understand. Maybe another time?”
“Definitely,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll do amazing today.” He flinched as if I’d jinxed him, and I tilted my head. “Wait, was that the wrong thing to say? I’m still not up to speed on all the superstitions you guys have around the game.”
“No,” he said. “You can say that.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, lifting his hand toward me then dropping it just as quickly. I furrowed my brow at him, wondering what the hell was going on with him. I’d never seen him look so damn flustered in my entire life.
“Look, if you’re still upset about the brownie, I’ll make zucchini cookies next time, I promise—”
His laugh cut me short, and sparks danced on my skin at the sound. It was such a rare thing to hear, and never once had I made him laugh. Or was he laughing at me? God, this man was driving me nuts.
“It’s not that,” he said.
“What is it then?” I asked, starting to get flustered myself. “You’re acting like you’re about to ask me to leave or tell me I have to start doing your laundry or something.”
He laughed again, but his humor quickly flashed to confusion, then defeat. “I did really well at the last game,” he said.
“Okay,” I drug out the word. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, but the thing is…” His brow pinched together and he took a step closer to me. “I haven’t played that well in over a month.”
“I know, you told me the other night.” I raised my brows, not sure where he was going with this but sensing it would be better if I stayed quiet and let him get it out.
“And, well, there was only one thing that changed about my routine from the previous games to the last. And I really need to keep playing that well.”
“Okay,” I said again. “What was it that changed?”
“And it may be all superstations to you, but to me, it’s my career, and I just…”
“Maxim,” I said, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen from where he stopped moving toward me. “Whatever it is, just tell me. You know I’m always in your corner. If I can help you, you know I will.”
I bit my bottom lip, wondering what on earth I could offer to help. Did he just need someone to listen to him? Or did he need like a neck rub or something? I’d totally offer to be that volunteer. If I was being honest, I’d do his damn laundry if I believed it would truly help with his game.
A chaotic sort of grin shaped his lips. “Seriously?” he asked. “Just like that, you offer to help? You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”
I shrugged. “We’re…friends, right, Maxim?” He nodded. “Then I want to help. I may know next to nothing about hockey rituals, but lay it on me. Whatever you need.”
“Whatever I need,” he whispered, moving closer as I nodded again. “You’re sure?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation.
He sighed, the tension going out of his muscles before he reached for me. My pulse skittered as his hands slid to the sides of my face, one of them moving to tangle in my hair, the other cupping my cheek.
A small gasp left my lips as he walked me backward until the counter stopped me and his body lined up flush with mine. Maxim held my gaze as he slowly inched his lips downward, just grazing over mine at first.