Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
There was that amused grin again. What was it about me that Beau found so funny?
“I’ll find a place without litter boxes and get a reservation,” he said. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Thanks.”
He was on the verge of laughing. What the hell?
“Shelby, relax,” he said. “You look like you think I’m about to rob you or something.”
Aggravation flared in my chest. I was used to men telling me I was too uptight and needed to relax. What that really meant was that I was too uptight for them, and they wanted me to relax for them. I’d stopped dating because of the way those men made me feel, and I had no desire to be spoken to like that in my own home.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked Beau. “Because I do have work to do.”
The grin slid away. “No, I’ll take off now. Good luck with the work and I’ll see you Monday night.”
“Thanks,” I said, walking over to the door to let him out and locking the deadbolt behind him.
I was ten minutes behind schedule now, but I’d work a little late to make up for it. As I sat down in my desk chair and looked out at the view of distant mountains, I took a breath and centered myself once more.
My grandparents had been the only ones to love me exactly as I was. I missed having safe people I could be myself with. One day, I’d have that again. And not only would my child be loved and cared for in all the ways my mother failed at, but they would also know that they, too, could be exactly who they were around me with no fear of judgment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Beau
“Hey, the principal wants to see you in her office,” my teammate Seth said to me as he walked into the weight room.
I finished my set of deadlifts before responding to him. “Do you know what she wants?”
He shrugged. “No, but she’s on the warpath.”
“Great.”
Mila Pavlova was both owner and general manager of the Coyotes. She was only thirty, but she’d inherited the team from her hockey-loving father, a Russian businessman, and she knew the sport well. And while you’d think she’d earned her nickname of “Ice Queen” because she owned an ice hockey team, it had a lot more to do with her personality than anything.
“Beau,” she said when I walked into her office about fifteen minutes later. “Sit down. I’m going to skip the formalities because I was expecting you about ten minutes ago.”
I’d taken a quick shower before coming here because Mila had once yelled at one of my teammates for sweating all over one of the fancy chairs in her office. She was known for being impatient and having a short fuse. It wasn’t just her temper that was hot, either—so was the rest of her. But every player who had ever hit on her had been shot down hard.
Personally, I wasn’t into her, but she was my team owner and GM, so I had to keep her happy. Or at least, less than furious.
“I’m going to be making some moves,” she said from behind her desk, tapping her bright red nails on the computer keyboard in front of her.
Shit. My luck had run out. I was going to be traded. The thought of ending up someplace like Pittsburgh made me feel sick. I needed to live near mountains and lakes, not locked up in a city.
“Relax, you’re not getting traded,” Mila said, finishing what she was typing and turning to face me. “But if you want to remain part of this team, I’m going to need you to step up.”
“What’s happening with Sergei?” I asked.
Our star defender had injured his leg in our last game, and our coaches and trainers had been tight-lipped about the extent of it. This morning he’d had an appointment with a specialist, and we’d all been hoping to get some news during practice, but we hadn’t.
“Out for the season,” Mila said.
I hung my head. That was a blow to our entire team. Sergei was a veteran and a leader.
“Don’t repeat that,” she said. “Not to anyone. We’re working on an announcement now. I had a feeling it was bad, which is why I’d already put some wheels in motion.”
She had the same dark features as her father—long, smooth hair and big eyes. They were a dark mahogany shade that was the only warm thing about her. It was rumored that she slept at the office. Probably coiled up under her desk.
“If I’m not being traded, what do you need from me?”
“I’ll be blunt, Beau.” Like she was ever anything else. “You’ve started to look like a cardboard cutout of a hockey player.”
I cleared my throat, bracing for the verbal lashing ahead.
“Our ticket sales are down, and I get why. People don’t want to pay good money to come watch you guys skate up and down the ice.”