Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
I knock fists with him in anti-romance solidarity. “I hear ya, man.”
The predicament isn’t the same, but the shitshow of love is.
“But dogs? They never disappoint,” he says, then smiles at Wanda and checks her in for the evening.
I’m so damn glad the team opened up a dog daycare facility here. It’s made life so much easier—and it made it easier to have a dog in the first place.
But I push all that out of my mind to get my game focus on. I head to the locker room, ready to shed my suit and do some stretching. Once I reach my stall, I spot the whiteboard and eye it suspiciously.
Better known as the DickNose board, it’s supposed to be for team strategy notes, but it’s pretty much just an announcement board used for roasting each other. Like right now, as it reads:
Five Things the Future Mrs. Bishop Needs to Know About Rowan
He secretly has a stash of candy cane boxers.
He used to decorate his Christmas tree as a kid with horse ornaments during his horse phase—and he still has them in a box, so just ask him to show you.
He bakes cookies for Santa, ostensibly, but it’s just to eat them himself.
When left alone, he rocks out to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” singing into a horse ornament, obviously.
His ultimate Christmas fantasy is taking you on a horse-drawn carriage ride—while he’s wearing the candy cane boxers.
I groan but make no move to erase it. That would be a declaration of war. Instead, as I get ready for the game, a routine which includes tapping a picture of Mia in my stall for good luck, their five things list bolsters my original plan.
Go on a few dates. Pretend I’ve met someone I like. Let the guys think this matchmaking package is working.
It’ll be my Christmas gift to them.
Well, that and the way I kill it on the ice a little later—taking no prisoners.
Near the end of the third period, I shove an opponent into the boards with a satisfying crunch. Well, the asshole tried to strip the puck from Miles. Screw him.
With zero remorse, I untangle myself and skate away, puck on my stick, before passing it right back to Miles. He takes it down the ice with a quick deke and fires it into the net.
Yes!
I’m relentless for the final minutes, throwing down blocks and cutting off lanes as my team pads the score. By the time the buzzer sounds, we’ve secured my favorite outcome—a nice, big W.
I head off the ice and through the tunnel to the rambunctious locker room, where the energy is high—the welcome noise of victory. But I stifle a groan when I see my stall. Some asshole teammate has decided to decorate my stall with a pair of candy cane boxers dangling on a hook and a note on them that says: A gift for the grump.
Damn, they take the DickNose board list seriously.
After I yank off my sweaty jersey, I spin around and hold up the offending garment. “Aww, you guys bought me underwear,” I say, deadpan. Then, louder, for everyone’s benefit: “Underwear. Let that sink in. You bought me underwear.” Cradling the boxers against my crotch, I add, “Thank you for thinking of my balls.”
Tyler, smirking as usual, fires back from across the way, “Bet your balls send us a thank-you note after you wear them.”
“They’re probably blue though. But that still goes with your black heart,” Miles chimes in as he unlaces his skates.
I sigh heavily. These guys. Still, I glance down at the candy cane boxers and shrug. They’re ridiculous. After folding them neatly, I tuck them into my bag. No way I’m walking out of here with holiday underwear in my hand.
“I’ll treasure them forever,” I say.
After a quick shower, I’m back in my suit, saying goodbye to my teammates. My plan is to grab Wanda at Dog Tails, then go home and give Isla hell with the list of things I know about her. But as I head down the corridor, I spot one of the city’s most well-known power couples heading my way.
It’s Wilder Blaine—the billionaire owner of a chain of luxury hotels and a green energy empire—alongside his wife, Fable Calloway, who owns several high-end jewelry stores. Wilder also owned one of the city’s most successful sports teams, the Renegades, who are legends on the gridiron. Basically, he’s been a fixture in the local sports world for years. But more importantly, our daughters have recently become friends. They go to the same school, and even though his daughter is a few years older, they’re both in the school’s book club.
“Hi, Rowan,” Fable greets me with a bright smile. She’s the kind of person who knows everyone, and I’ve met her through her friends—most of them are dating my teammates.