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)
He tips his forehead my way. “Seriously though. How did the cookie swap go?”
“Now you want to know how it went? After buying me a thong?”
He shrugs off the question. “Yeah, I do. We might be giving you a hard time, but I still legit want you to be happy.”
“So you guys don’t have to babysit me at the gala,” I toss back, using Miles’s words from the night of the auction. But I’m not mad. I’m just reporting the facts.
As we wait for the announcer to invite us onto the ice, Tyler presses again. “Come on, Bishop. I’m serious.”
Fair enough. Since he’s being earnest, I give him a serious answer. “I’m doing my best.”
His eyebrows rise. “That so?” He sounds doubtful, but hopeful too.
“I am,” I confirm. Because committing to be real on a practice date with Isla feels a whole lot like trying. And that has to count for something, right?
With a hint of a smile, he claps me on the back. “Proud of you.”
We hit the ice, and I block Christmas, dates, and thong-wearing Santas from my head as I jostle for the puck, picking it off from Vancouver one minute into the first period and feeding it to Devon, who sprints down the oval in a breakaway.
Then scores.
Yes. That’s my favorite kind of gift. An early lead.
We don’t squander it. A couple hours later, the horn blares and “Tick Tick Boom” blasts in the Sea Dogs arena. I high-five my teammates, then look up to the family suite on the second level, where the world’s cutest kid is dancing in celebration and waving my way. Mia’s smile is huge, fueled by the electric excitement of a child. My heart floods.
A few suites over, I spot Jason. Huh. I hadn’t realized he’d be here tonight, but it’s part of his job to see his clients in action, and he reps some of the guys on the Vancouver team too. He’s probably here to visit with them.
I head off the ice, eager to see my kiddo.
But not so fast. In the locker room, Coach McBride praises us for a well-fought win. “You played hard. You never stopped battling for the puck or defending the net. Keep that up,” he says, and briefly, I wonder if he tried any dating sabotage when Isla set him up with his girlfriend. But he’s a straight shooter so I guess the answer is no. “Now I need you all to stick around for a few minutes for a quick marketing meeting.”
Most of the guys groan. No one likes post-game meetings.
Coach sighs with exasperation. “Really? You play a demanding game for a living, and you can’t handle a fifteen-minute chat?”
“Now it’s fifteen whole minutes,” Max grumbles, but our goalie’s being borderline playful.
Still, Coach deals him an intense stare. “You’d think I was pulling your teeth.”
“Less painful than a meeting. Of any length,” Max adds.
Once we’re changed, the team’s publicist, Everly, strides into the locker room, tablet in hand, her sleek ponytail cinched low.
Max gives her an eyebrow wiggle as he knots his tie, but she ignores her fiancé and focuses on her job.
“Good game, guys,” she begins with a cheery smile, “and as you know we have one road game in Seattle before we head to Evergreen Falls to play at the minor league arena before the holidays.”
I nod, along with my teammates.
“I wanted to remind you that marketing’s goal is for the entire team to help promote our new minor-league affiliate. That means I would love it if you could be available for local PR.”
I fight off a groan. But it’s futile. It comes out anyway.
“I don’t think I need to remind all of you that anyone can be good with the press with a little bit of effort,” Everly says as she swings her gaze to the formerly grumpy goalie, flashing him a smile at last. Everly turned Max’s surly reputation around with a PR makeover a few seasons back.
Max flashes an over-the-top grin, then points menacingly at all of us. “You fuckers have no excuse then.”
I frown. I do my part in talking to the media, but it’s my least favorite part of the job.
“I know a lot of you don’t love publicity,” Everly adds, practically reading my mind. “But please remember how valuable it is to the organization to have you out there in such a lovely town, and we appreciate you in advance.” My Spidey senses tingle, and my frown digs deeper before she turns to me. “That includes you, Rowan, since I know you have a cabin there and that gives you a little bit of a connection to the place. It would be great to get a couple photos of you around town.”
My jaw twitches. I’d rather eat batteries than be the face of a Christmas village. I bought the cabin far, far away from Main Street for a reason. But I think of Tyler and his pre-game pep talk, of how my teammates are trying to have my back, and I think of my own plan to try with Isla on the practice date. Fact is, as much as I loathe public appearances that don’t involve pets, I should do my best for the team. That’s part of being a team. “Okay,” I say evenly.