Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Oh fuck,” I mutter.
Rose glances from me to the guy. Her eyes light up. “Oh. No way. Is he the douche who almost hit you?”
This is going to get super awkward in a hurry. “Maybe.”
“Oh, this is gonna be awesome. I wish I had popcorn.” She spins to face the hot douche. “BJ. So wild, we were just talking about you.”
My stomach sinks and twists as realization dawns. “Oh my God, you know him?”
“Hey, Rose. Enjoying your summer punishment?” His eyes move over me on a slow, assessing sweep.
“It just got a million times better.” She slings her arm over my shoulder, which must be awkward for her, since she’s a good four inches shorter than me. “I’d like to introduce you to Winter, who you apparently tried to run over this morning.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say he tried to run me over.” Why am I defending this guy? “He just failed to obey basic traffic laws, and I nearly launched myself through his driver’s side window.” Ah, there’s my barbed tongue.
One side of his mouth quirks up in an annoyingly attractive half-smile. “Your reaction time is a turn-on.”
Rose throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, this is magic.”
I cross my arms, determined not to be affected by the pretty. “Almost taking out a woman with your custom-paint-job Jeep turns you on?”
“Not in the slightest. The fact that you had to have been going twenty-five miles an hour, managed to stop without going over your handlebars, and still gave me shit for not paying attention to the road is a turn-on.” He rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. “And I did stop to see if you were okay, but you seemed to be in a hurry.”
“I didn’t want to be late for work.”
“This is like watching verbal foreplay, and I’m here for it.” Rose hops up on the counter and crosses her legs.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
“You are totally not fine.” Rose jumps down and spins me around. My braid whips out and slaps her arm. “Look at this!” I assume she’s pointing at the road rash, which happens to be located just below where my shorts end.
BJ sucks in a breath.
“And that’s not even the worst of it!” Rose declares.
I turn around. “I’m really fine. It looks worse than it is.”
“That’s not going to feel good when you’re on the ice later,” he murmurs.
I frown. “How do you know I’m going to be on the ice later?”
“You had a hockey bag strapped to your bike.”
“Right. Yeah.” Logic implies that his assumption is accurate, but my hockey bag is currently full of dirty clothes I’m taking to the laundromat after my shift. “A couple of scrapes will hardly slow me down.”
A full smile spreads across his face, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, all it does is make him hotter. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Oh. Oh yes. I know what’s coming! This is so happening.” Rose claps enthusiastically.
I give her a look. She’s a weird one for sure. She just grins and moves over to the fritter fryer to drop a few in the oil, making it hiss and bubble.
“There’s a free skate at the arena tonight,” BJ says.
I frown. “The new one or the old one?” It’s been around several years, but locals still call it the new arena to differentiate it from the one built more than fifty years ago.
“The new one.”
“I didn’t see it posted.” I always keep tabs on the free skates. They advertise them at the local library on the community board. I was there yesterday, and the next one isn’t supposed to be until tomorrow, but I’ll be working so I can’t make it.
“We have the ice from seven to nine.”
Rose siphons out the fritters and drops them into the cinnamon-sugar bowl, coating them before she puts them in a paper-lined box.
Two hours of free ice time is a dream. And the new arena is amazing. “I’m supposed to play pick-up at the old arena later.”
“Might be tough with one skate,” BJ says.
“What?” Rose passes me the box of fritters, and I hand them to BJ.
He drops a ten-dollar bill on the counter and steps back.
“I think you might have lost one of yours. You should check your bag, make sure you have both.” He moves toward the entrance. “If you’re missing one, you know where you can find it. Hopefully I’ll see you later tonight. Rink three. Seven o’clock.”
“Wait, what?” I don’t even know what’s happening.
He pushes through the door. “It was nice to meet you, Winter. I’m sorry about earlier.”
I hold up the ten. A six-pack costs eight bucks. “What about your change?”
“It’s cool. Keep it.”
The door closes, and I watch him pass the front window and hop into his Jeep. I’m still stunned. “What the hell just happened?”