Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Joeski…” he whines, melting for his Slayer the same way we all melt for our own.
That’s why they call them Slayers.
They’re the only ones who can always successfully take us down.
“He need the same size like Uncle Groffee,” Bella informs Courtney during her wiggle on of the tiny grass skirt. The second it’s in place, she pridefully spins around in front of me and asks, “Pretty, Uncle Groffee?”
“Absolutely.” Squatting down to be closer to eye-level occurs to the sounds of Cap grumbling his displeasure. “You are the second prettiest lil’ lady on this side of the big muddy.”
“Second?!” she scoffs in obvious outrage.
“Only to my Gillybean,” I casually retort with a small finger point in her direction.
“Her name’s Gillybean?!”
“Gillian,” corrects my date at the same time she joins me in the lower position. “But you can call me Gilly.” She offers our team’s honorary niece her open palm for shaking. “And I think that you are definitely the prettiest little lady here.”
“I think so too,” agrees Bella as they shake.
“Bella,” scolds her mom alongside wriggling on the wrist accessories.
“I mean…” her bright blues execute a roll, “spasibo.”
All smiles.
All attitude.
All loveable.
Can’t lie.
She’s always had this way of making me want my own.
And now that I’ve found the one woman I’mma have ‘em with…wonder how soon is too soon to bring the subject up.
“Joey,” Cap’s wife introduces upon us returning upright.
“Gilly.”
“You look so familiar,” the light café brown freckled face woman casually gestures, once more encouraging uncertainty to cha-cha slide around the pit of my stomach. “Have we met before?”
Like earlier, a hiccup sound escapes rather than words.
Huh.
My lady has a nervous tick.
Why do I think that shit makes her even more adorable?
How is her bein’ more adorable even possible?
“Maybe at a meet and greet?” Joey follows up when she doesn’t get an answer.
Gilly’s mouth lowers to answer only to have another hiccup escape.
Concerningly, Cap’s wife inquires, “Need some water?”
“Now,” Courtney states loudly, regaining control over the situation, round face the brightest and most enthusiastic I’ve seen it yet, “is everyone ready to learn a few basics?”
Bella’s excited glee-filled squeal gets the group smiling and nodding and properly off the topic of Gilly’s hidden relation.
Our first directions are all about proper stances.
The next are about footwork.
And the last are about putting them altogether to simple timing.
Cap and I flawlessly execute each movement – credit due to training exercises that have required much more strenuous and awkward poses – while the females in our company all seem to have two left feet.
Or arms.
Or in Gilly’s case both.
“You got this, Gillybean,” I lovingly encourage, hoping it dulls some of the frustration that’s pinging around her face. “It’s jus’ like when we first met.”
“This is nothing like when we first met, Jukes,” she huffs between stumbles.
“Sure, it is,” sweetly leaves me in tandem with swinging around to be behind her. “We’re gonna shuffle…shuffle…this way,” my fingers lightly lift her bent elbow upward for better form as we slowly take two steps to the left, “switch,” I maneuver them into the opposite direction, “and shruffle…shruffle…this way.”
Giggles are attached to her headshaking.
“Shuffle…shuffle…again…” There’s no stopping my hands from falling onto her hips to assist. “Then switch.”
“And shruffle…shruffle…this way.”
“Exactly,” is cooed beside her ear. “And once more…” Her frame instantly softens against mine practically turning my voice into nothing but air. “Shuffle…Shuffle…last time.”
“Then switch.”
“And shruffle…shruffle…last time.” She cranes her face up and over her shoulder. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make everything feels so…” a smile sweeter than candy rain graces her glossed lips, “easy.”
“Don’t think everything in life has to be that hard.” Leaning down is met by Gilly lifting herself up. “Especially not with you.”
Our parted lips lightly feather together, encouraging our eyes to close, us to prepare for our tongues to finally brush, only to be interrupted by the one person who has more power over my career than her brother. The team owner. “You have got to be fucking kidding me…”
Chapter 10
Thayne
I know it’s wrong.
I know it’s wrong, and my brain still does it.
Every time I lay eyes on her, I internally sing that silly little snack jingle, but instead of pocket, I sing rocket because that’s what we call her.
Hot Rocket.
Not to her face.
Never to her face.
Most of us – self included – are looking to last awhile in the league versus being forced into earlier retirement via LITR brought on by getting knocked so hard in the sack we can’t ever skate again.
Under normal circumstances calling Harlow Hennington, Owner and GM of the Dalvegan Dragons ice hockey franchise, Hot Rocket would be redundant – since that’s what a rocket is by definition – except in her case hot is in reference to her temper, not her smoking hot body.
Which she still has even after popping out twins during her first year as the bench boss’s boss.