Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
The arena, though, is the opposite of my cozy, pretty, sugary world. It’s the opposite of the paint chips too. It’s all dark purples and soft whites. It’s mammoth ceilings and massive banners of men holding sticks and looking mean.
They’re supposed to intimidate opponents and rally the fans.
When I open the door and stop at the security turnstile, I’m greeted by a thirty-foot-tall Corbin. There he is, hanging from the top of the arena, scowling, his helmet on, his gaze fixed on the puck as he flies down the ice with it. A captured moment in time—the hockey player dead-set on scoring. His jaw tight. His eyes dark. His attitude ferocious.
It’s a little scary.
It’s even scarier how turned on I am.
I tear my gaze from the banner and focus on the security guard, who’s asking, “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Mabel Llewelyn. I’m here to see Corbin Knight.” I wonder if I sound like a groupie, and I’m tempted to add, I’m his new business partner. But that sounds even more like an excuse made up to creep on him.
The man with the mustache scans his tablet, and a little frisson of excitement runs through me at the idea that I’m on some list. I feel a little like a star. Like a VIP.
Then my fantasies come crashing down when he says, “Nope, you’re not on here.”
“I’ll just give him a quick call,” I say, grabbing my phone. I ignore the sound of approaching footsteps on the polished floor until I hear my brother’s voice.
“She’s with me.”
I turn, and of course, it’s Theo right here, with his polished wingtips gleaming and a smile that says whatever he says goes.
The security guard nods deferentially. “Of course, Mr. Llewelyn,” he says, then scans my bag and lets me through the turnstile.
I thank him, then look at my brother with a furrowed brow. “How did you know I was going to be here?”
His eyes darken. “Don’t you know, Mabel? I know everything.”
His tone is ominous, with zero mirth. For a few terrifying seconds, I believe this is his way of telling me he knows that I’m fantasizing about Corbin coming up behind me as I mix batter, wrapping his arms around me, then kissing the sugar off my neck and stripping me to nothing but an apron.
Holy shit, my fantasies are getting weirdly specific.
I perform an immediate mind-wipe. “If you know everything, then what’s the temperature for baking an upside-down pineapple cake?” I want to trip him up and maybe get sex off my brain too.
But Theo laughs and says, “Actually, Corbin sent me up. I was walking past the weight room, and he told me he was going to meet you here. I said I’d get you since I don’t want him to break his workout routine. But now that I’ve got you, how’s everything going? Do I need to fuck him up for any reason?”
“Have you always been pugilistic?” I ask as we head down the escalator to the food concourse, where workers prep snacks for tonight’s game.
He stops at a plant wall and gives me a serious look. “Yes.”
I roll my eyes and motion for him to resume walking. “You don’t need to fuck him up for any reason.”
“Noted. But the offer stands. Also, I put in a call to the lawyers at Romance Beach and made it clear they shouldn’t talk about you again.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” he says, pulling no punches. “Look, your ex is a prick. What the hell is his problem—talking shit about you on TV?”
“I’ve mostly tried to ignore it,” I say, though it’s not always easy to put my head in the sand about the fallout—losing a shot at a loan. Plus, I’m a meme.
“Good,” he says. “You should. But that’s why you’ve got me—so I can handle this for you, and they’ll know better.”
“What did they say? The lawyers?”
“They said…Heard.”
I stand up straighter. “Oh. Really?” That’s code for understood.
“Yep.” He drapes an arm around me and pulls me in for a brotherly hug. “And next time, when you decide to date again, let me meet the guy first. Vet him. Make sure he’s not an asshat. Or better yet, how about you take a timeout from dating and focus on this bakery, and let’s launch the fuck out of it?”
Oooh, did my brother just expressly tell me not to date? Normally, nothing would make me want to date more, because I don’t need or want his permission to see anyone. But…that’s some solid advice. I wasn’t even on the apps—I deleted them all after Dax dumped me—but this is a good reminder that it’s best I focus on my love for sugar and butter, rather than on hearts and flutters.
I hold out a hand to shake. “It’s a deal.”
Theo blinks.
I might have fallen into a parallel universe because my brother never blinks. Metaphorically, of course.