Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Vinnie.”
I couldn’t help noticing that he was bigger than I remembered. There was more him…all over. He was taller, stronger, more fit. His shoulders were broader, his torso was thicker, and his tattooed biceps were ginormous. No kidding. His muscles challenged the integrity of his T-shirt in every way possible without looking ridiculous.
He was hotter too.
I’d known Vin my whole life. He’d been the cool kid on the block to my brother’s affable boy next door. Guys had wanted to hang out with Vinnie and every girl I knew used to have a crush on him. Okay, fine…once upon a time, I’d had a crush on him too. A big one.
I hadn’t known what to call it back then. That weird, fluttery feeling in my chest, a loss of hearing, and a curious stomachache seemed like the kind of symptoms I should have seen a doctor about, but being around him felt good too. Uplifting…like walking on a cloud and touching moonbeams with your fingertips.
How embarrassing.
That crush lasted longer than I’d ever admit to anyone…ever. A testament to my younger, naïve self. If my parents had noticed, they’d probably assumed I had a wicked case of hero worship. I’d adored my big brother and it made sense to extend those feelings to his best friend.
Yeah, that wasn’t it. It had taken me a while longer to figure out that I was gay. Back then I hadn’t even known what that word meant. I’d just known that whatever I felt was…different.
Vinnie had confused and confounded me. He always would.
But Ronnie was right. I had to let that old shit go and aim for some form of neutrality. Total ambivalence was the ultimate goal, though even I knew that was a stretch.
He was still insanely good-looking with sharp hazel eyes, a strong scruffy jaw, and a slightly crooked nose from the time he’d gotten into a fight with a goalie during playoffs his junior year of high school. His longish dark hair curled at his ears and brushed his collar, giving him a deceptively angelic look. There was nothing innocent about this man, though. He was a rakish, crude, unpolished barbarian…who just happened to have a godlike bod.
Whatever. At thirty-five, I wasn’t so easily swayed by washboard abs and a cocky smile. My memory was longer too. I knew Vinnie Kiminski, and I didn’t like him.
And I sure as fuck didn’t trust him. I’d bet my next paycheck that was his Jeep blocking my door.
“Good to see you, man. How’s it goin’?” he asked.
“Okay.” I gestured toward my truck. “Is that you?”
He pulled his Ray-Bans off, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed the renegade parking situation. “Me? I was a valet at Maxim’s the summer I learned how to drive.”
“So?”
“You know Maxim. That old man was a fucking tyrant. He made us move any car he thought was too close to another. On my first night, they were hosting the Phillipses’ wedding and for whatever reason, everyone had a van. Maxim wanted them all in that back lot behind the Christmas tree farm. I can’t tell you how many times he drove after us on his golf cart, pulling what was left of his hair outta his skull, screaming, ‘Move that van, move that van!’ ”
My lips twitched without my permission. “Maxim thought he was running a fine-dining establishment.”
“Any restaurant rockin’ wood chips on the floor, a broken jukebox, and a cigarette machine from the seventies has serious delusions of grandeur,” Vinnie scoffed.
“True.”
He grinned, hooking his glasses in his shirt collar, momentarily exposing a hint of chest hair. “So…other than a minor parking woe, how’s life?”
My reluctant smile reformed into a cynical twist. “Groovy, Vin. Just groovy.”
“I heard you took over the diner. Still serving killer fries?”
“Of course.”
“And shakes? Please tell me you still have the double-chocolate-chip shake on the menu,” he pleaded, reminding me of the teenager who used to save the clover marshmallows from Lucky Charms cereal to eat last.
“We do.”
“Cool. I’ll be by sometime. I opened a couple of burger joints in Seattle that have done pretty well. Blue Line Burger. I was thinking of expanding.”
“Here?”
“Or somewhere nearby. Let’s talk. Maybe we can help each other out.”
“Right.” I snorted derisively.
Vinnie frowned, scratching his temple thoughtfully. “I’m sensing animosity.”
“I was going for ambivalence.”
“Ambivalence,” he repeated, thumping his chest. “Toward me? Impossible.”
Damn it. That was truer than I wanted to admit. Time to get going.
“Ronnie’s waiting for you. Later.”
He grabbed my elbow before I could stalk away. “Gimme a hint. What’s he up to?”
Vin turned to the rink that had served as a second home to most everyone in town. Including this former NHL superstar.
I shook out of his grasp. “Find out yourself. Oh, and Vin…”
“Yeah?”
“If you fuck him over, I will come for you.”
Hey, for a guy who’d never been known for a menacing glare, I thought I’d pulled it off pretty damn well. I braced myself for one of those adolescent comebacks Vinnie had delivered like a boss when we were kids. He’d always been able to make “Oooh, now I’m scared” sound like a Shakespearean quip.