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)
I happily take another kiss from her, my head swimming with endorphins, my body supercharged with lust.
I feel like a goddamn superhero thanks to this woman, to her faith, her spirit, her bold confidence, and her delightful chaos. I could lift the fucking car. I am so crazy for her. But I’ve got to get to the game. I tear myself away. Before I head down the steps, I wheel around. “Oh, Mom said next week works for her for the after-episode of your podcast. Where you’re going to live stream and show everybody how the house looks.”
“Perfect. Those do so well,” she says.
“Good. You deserve it,” I say. She’s already gained a new client from the gala. I’m so damn proud of her and the way business is growing for her. But now, it’s time for me to get in the zone. I hop in my car and head over to the arena for family night.
Two hours later, Skylar’s there on the ice right next to me as the Sea Dogs pose for photos for our social media—the players and their partners. Wesley’s here with Josie. Max with Everly. Asher with Maeve. Miles with Leighton. Tyler with Sabrina. And now, this time around, Skylar’s here with me and everything feels right in the world.
Once the photos are taken, I return to the locker room with the guys and go through the motions of getting ready for the game. This time, though, is different. This time she’s here as mine for real. Knowing I’m playing for her is a whole new feeling. One I want to hold on to for the rest of the season.
As I stretch on the ice, I visualize the game. The way I’ll have to be on my toes, looking behind me, playing ruthlessly.
Vancouver has been one of our toughest opponents. Canadians don’t fuck around when it comes to hockey. Their defense is stacked with big guys, like Long Neck John, a six-foot-seven-inch D-man with a neck like a giraffe’s and shoulders like a tank’s. He sees every play and plows down anyone who gets in his way.
In short, I plan to evade him.
That’s easy enough in the first period. I’m faster and smoother. I’m flying down the ice. Hell, I feel like I’ve got wings. I lose him every time he comes near me. Nine minutes into the first period, I’m guiding that puck down the ice, lifting my stick, then sending it right into Vancouver’s net.
Yes, fucking yes.
It’s early and I’ve already put a point on the board. I can’t resist. I spin around, turn toward center ice, and tip my forehead toward the gorgeous redhead in my number who’s cheering for me. I’m subtle enough, but I give her a look and a smile that says, “That one’s for you.”
I head over to the boards and hop over it for the line change.
On the bench, Tyler gives me a fist bump and I knock right back. I grab my water bottle, down some, and blow out a breath, feeling pretty, pretty good. All the conditioning, all the time with Leah, all the yoga, all the medicine balls, all the box squats, all the kale smoothies, all the Penguin Mazes and River Rangers, and more than a decade in the pros is paying off.
I feel loose and easy still in the second period, even though Long Neck John keeps breathing down my neck. But I strip the puck from him on a rebound, briefly glancing toward center ice again. The thought that she’s watching me, cheering for me, is electrifying. I’m playing for my woman for real. Maybe soon, I’ll blow her a kiss and the whole world will know that this guy, this undrafted guy, has made it to the top—not just in hockey but in life.
When I skate behind the net, Long Neck John swipes the puck from me.
Shit.
I didn’t even see him coming.
All of a sudden, we’re jostling for the puck, with Falcon and Bryant flanking me. I’ve got to get it back. It was my fault I lost track of it. I was thinking of…her.
Must focus like it’s my fucking life.
I jab at the puck in the fray, snagging it once more when Long Neck John slams into my shoulder. The hit sends me barreling right into the boards, my torso smashing against them. It’s like a car rear-ended me. My teeth clench, my bones rattle, and my ribs scream as I wipe out, stumbling backward onto the ice.
I can barely catch my breath. Pain lances through me. My abdomen is on fire. I try to breathe, but I can’t. She’s out there though. Mere feet away in the stands. I can’t get distracted by her again. Or by thoughts of her. And I don’t want her to see me like this. Hurt.