Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
As I head to the arena with Jules, my chest flutters. It has nothing to do with my ex. And everything to do with the guy whose name I’m wearing.
4
FIRST DATE
CAMDEN
I’m not a rock star by any stretch, but a few years ago I worked in a lounge as a bartender, moonlighting there as a torch singer. When my good friend Ethan invited me to perform one of my songs with his popular band one night, I jumped at the chance, singing “Whiskey Memories” with Ethan harmonizing along. A few days later, a video of our performance went viral. A few months later, I released an album called First Times. It struck a chord with my demo—sexy, playful tunes about women owning their lives, their bodies, their romances. It was the right music at the right time with the right marketing. My label sent me on tour, where I performed for big crowds under my first name only.
Camden.
I didn’t use my last name—Tinsley. It’s never really felt like mine anyway.
My second album, Rebellious, did even better, and the tour was longer. But being on the road hurt my heart. All those nights in different places reminded me too much of my childhood, being bounced from home to home without a place of my own, ever. I decided that before I tour again I want to build something stable. Something that’ll give me security. I’ve poured some of my money from the tour and the second album into a business idea over the last year—the club.
That’s why Erik’s insult hurt so much. When he was with me, he’d acted like he supported my dream, and then he undermined it. Maybe that’s another reason I didn’t tell Shaw who I am. I don’t want another dismissive comment about my business. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d do that, but who knows who you can trust?
Who even knows if Shaw will truly want to hang out after his game? He might be tired. Erik often was. The date may end when the game does, and I’ll be fine with that. Hopefully, though, Erik knows I’m Shaw’s special guest.
I walk into the arena with Jules, heading to the center-ice seats.
The players are doing warmups, taking easy shots on goal or stretching their legs. I’m not sure if Shaw sees me or not, but after Jules pops out to go to the restroom, he skates my way.
I’m behind the glass, so he beckons for me to come close to the players’ bench. I move over a few chairs, and he hops the boards where there’s no glass. In full uniform, he walks over to me, skates on, leaning across the edge of the bench.
“You made it,” he says, sounding charmed.
I bob a shoulder. “I said I would.”
Tugging off his gloves, he nods at my jersey with something like…heat in his eyes. “I would have sent you one.”
The implication is clear. I didn’t give him my name, so he couldn’t send it to me. Still, I can’t resist teasing him. “You could have sent it to the coffee shop yesterday,” I say, then slide my teeth along my lower lip.
“Or brought it myself and waited for you to show.”
I blink. “You…did?”
He shrugs, like it was nothing to wait for me. Like it was just part of the chase. “I rolled the dice.”
My breath catches. He showed up. He made an effort. I wish I’d been there. “I didn’t make it there yesterday. I had a morning meeting.”
“Shame,” he says.
“Or maybe not,” I say, fingering the hem of the jersey. “If I’d been there, then it wouldn’t have been a surprise for you to see me in it now.”
“True,” he says, roaming his gaze shamelessly up and down me. “And it’s a very good surprise…Jane.”
One word, and the guilt swirls in me. I should say, I’m not Jane Smith. I’m Camden Tinsley, and your rival thinks my club is a bad idea.
But Shaw leans in closer, and I catch a hint of his soap—clean and woodsy—and it knocks my senses loose. So does his warm voice and his unbearably sexy accent as he murmurs, “Confession: I saw you at the coffee shop last season. Wanted to ask you out then but I was too focused on the game and the playoffs. Wasn’t going to let my chance pass me by once I saw you again this last week. There. Now you know.”
My heart both soars and caves in. He’s being so honest and really, he deserves the same from me. But is now the time? Before his first game of the season?
But my thoughts scatter when he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek—the mirror of what I did the other day. It catches me off guard in the best of ways. I feel floaty. Tingles race down my back. My stomach flips. “Oh,” I murmur.