Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I swallow hard. Fuck. I know I’m getting older, but I’m still the team’s leading scorer. Most of the other NHL teams would happily scoop me up if the Vandals don’t sign me. But I never considered the Vandals letting me go. Not yet. I’ve always intended to retire a Vandal. I’ve put in too much with helping mentor the rookies and building the team to leave it to somebody else. I’ve got my local charities, which I’ve built up in the area, too. This team is my legacy. It’s like my family, from the equipment staff to the security guards on game day and all the way up to the coaches and players.
“Alright,” I say, voice firm. “I’ll find a way to make sure they know I’m done fucking around. Consider the problem solved.”
Vanessa cocks her head. “I can’t decide if I’m an idiot for actually believing you. But you really do have an almost supernatural ability to fix things. Once you decide to, that is.”
“I’m going to fix this,” I say. I feel some of my old fire coming back. She’s right, after all. Mostly. There’s nothing supernatural about my abilities, though. It’s just pure, hard, unrelenting determination and a willingness to do whatever it takes. For example, when I decided I wanted to be in the NHL as a little kid. As soon as I knew what I wanted, I worked toward it tirelessly. I never took days off. I never slacked off during workouts. I never zoned out when my coaches were talking or eased up in games because I was tired.
When I want something, I fucking get it. And I’m not about to let the Vandals pass me off to some other team.
“Do I get to know what your grand plan is?” Vanessa asks.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure that out. I’m going to Frosty Harbor tomorrow, assuming you can pull some strings and get me out of here tonight.”
“Lucky for you,” Vanessa says. “The bartender isn’t pressing charges. He’s a big fan and says the barstools you roughed up in those ‘intense one-on-ones’ will be souvenirs for him. I already talked to the officers out front. You’re free to go.”
I glare. “So we could’ve had this conversation outside the jail cell?”
Vanessa smirks. “I think you deserved to sweat it out in there a little longer. And those girls over there seemed to be enjoying the view.”
I look to the side and see the crowd of women in the other cell watching with big smiles on their faces. They wave when they notice me looking. I hesitantly wave back.
The ball cap guy sees the wave, thinks it’s for him, and goes to the bars. “Hey, Babes. Ignore that guy. You wanna get bruises from bumping against all that muscle in bed? Nah. You want a soft ride. Air suspension, baby.” He grips his love handles and leers at the women.
The bearded alliterator tilts his head and raises his palms like he’s about to deliver a sermon. “Wicked welts from her wrestle with the wildly well-built Romeo…”
I meet Vanessa’s eyes and mouth the words, “get me out of here.”
3
CAROLINE
I’m still sitting down as Peter stands and gathers his things. He’s putting the deed and contract back into the folder, adjusting his clothes, and taking his sweet damn time about it, too. He’s enjoying this.
There’s a cold fist in my chest, squeezing tighter by the second. I’ve always fixed my own problems. I’ve always had the answers. But what he’s suggesting is impossible. I’m not even dating, let alone engaged. I’ve got a two-month-old son, and Walker’s real dad doesn’t even know he’s a father because… well, it’s complicated. But I have zero chance of meeting the right guy and hitting it off in time for a wedding in six months.
I think I might hyperventilate. Do I even know how to hyperventilate?
“Well,” Peter says. “It was nice to catch up, Caroline. Oh, and if you would, please hire a cleaner.” He runs his fingertip along a nearby windowsill and lifts it for me to see. “It’s a bit dusty.”
Peter is about to leave, but the light from the lobby dims. We both look toward the doorway, where a huge man has just appeared.
“Jake?” I whisper.
Jake Summers, in all his glory, is walking into the room. There’s something in his eyes I’m not sure I like, either. He’s giving me this look… this look like he’s about to–
He stops in front of me, slides one hand into my hair, and leans in to plant a kiss right on my mouth.
I’m too stunned to kiss him back, but my brain distantly registers the warmth of his full lips and even the tease of his tongue.
The feeling of his mouth on mine is like fresh water over cracked lips. I can’t help but drink it in and wish I could drown in this feeling. I frantically try to memorize the velvety touch of his lips on mine and the wet heat of his tongue.