Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“Maybe she was locked out of her place,” I posit.
As she tries to swing her other foot up onto the ledge, scrabbling for purchase, something about her form feels familiar. Like I’ve seen that ass before. Where though?
“We should stop her…or help,” Gavin adds.
It clicks. She’s not a random woman. She’s someone we all know. “That’s Briar.”
The bright, upbeat, confident yoga teacher whose classes I go to as religiously as a man can. Well, it feels pretty fucking religious the way she downward dogs.
Hollis smacks my arm, recognition clearly dawning for him too. “Dude, you’re right,” he says, since he’s friendly with her as well. She used to teach classes for our team before the rival Sea Dogs lured her away.
I don’t know who takes off first, but in no time, the three of us are jogging across the lot, heading straight for her.
“New workout, Briar? Or are you trying to break into your boyfriend’s place?” Hollis asks.
Boyfriend’s place? I guess he knows a little more about her than I’d realized, but he’s been with the team longer. He’s also the most social cat I know.
“Ex,” she huffs out, hanging in a U like a monkey, but her hands look dangerously close to slipping.
Without a second thought, I step under her, reach for her waist. “Let go. I’ll catch you.”
With an aggrieved sigh, she drops into my arms for a quick second before I set her down on her feet right next to a suitcase loaded with several pink, pastel blue, and ruby red paperbacks, as well as a dastardly looking gnome. There’s a story here, all right.
“What the hell is going on, Pretzel?” Hollis asks with friendly concern. And they’re even close enough for a nickname.
She smooths a hand down her front, sighing again. “The world’s worst boyfriend met another woman while I was away for a week. Moved her in, tossed me out, and stole my cat. Now I need to steal her back. But the only way I can get her is to go through that pet door, and they could be back any minute,” she says, then points to the balcony. “And I’ve been trying for twenty minutes to climb up there. I’m totally desperate.”
I step back, surveying the wooden balcony with an Adirondack chair and a grill. For fuck’s sake, that barbecue is against the fire code. The scofflaw.
But that’s not why I say the next thing.
I say the next thing because she’s Briar, I’m a little into her, and I’m very good at fixing things.
“We’ll help save your cat.”
3
THE PLAN
Gavin
Of course Rhys has a plan. He’s a center on the second line for the Golden State Foxes, so he’s a key playmaker.
With dark, assessing eyes he scans the deck, the parking lot, then the three of us, before saying decisively, “We need a lookout, a boost, and a bodyguard who’s ideally an acrobat.”
Tapping his sternum, Hollis wastes no time taking on the second-in-command role. The tallest of the three of us, and the most agile, he pats his chest. “I’m like a motherfucking cat.” Also the cockiest. Hollis swivels to me, pointing. “You’re the boost.” Then he turns to Rhys. “And you’re the lookout. You can sweet talk that jackass if he shows up. Or the neighbors. Or the cops for that matter. Your accent fools anyone.”
“Yes, that’s why I got the accent. For trickery,” Rhys deadpans.
“Let’s put it to good use,” Briar says urgently, clearly ready to get on with it, then sweetly to him and Hollis, she adds, “And thank you.”
Admittedly, it was damn impressive the way Rhys and Hollis delivered that one-two punch. But that’s how they play the game too, the laidback California surfer guy and the quick-witted guy from London trading off the puck most nights.
And I know how to spot opportunities as well. That’s my role on the team and I take it very seriously—on and off the ice. I lift the bag of leftovers, brandishing the remains of the superstitious sushi, complete with tuna. “Might need a little something to lure the cat to the door.”
Briar beams, those big blue eyes sparkling my way like I’ve given her the sun. “You’re brilliant,” she says, and for a hot second, I think she’s going to come in for an adrenaline-fueled pre-heist kiss.
And I wouldn’t mind if she did.
But that’s a crazy thought.
I brush it off, then hand her the smaller of two takeout boxes. She drops it into her pack as Rhys recaps the plan. When he’s done, he points to my bag. “And give me that.”
I smirk. “You want my sushi now?”
“It’s just for show. A decoy.”
“Yeah. Sushi’s your costume, Viscount. Keep telling yourself that,” I say, then hand him the bag with the bigger box.
Rhys jogs through the lot to the street, scans the sidewalk, then lifts his free arm, giving a go sign.