Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“Did you catch me giving you a chin nod?”
Her lips quirk up. She looks away for a second, a flash of shyness on her pretty oval-shaped face before she turns back to me. “I didn’t want to assume.”
I square my shoulders and stand a little taller, which isn’t hard since I’m already six-two and right now I’m wearing skates. “Assume, Remy. Assume.”
“Then it was a very nice chin nod.”
I scoff. “Nice? C’mon. We can do better than nice.”
“Can you though?” she taunts, and oh hell, Remy does have a flirty side, a challenging side. And I like it.
“Don’t make me give you a smoldering-hot chin nod,” I warn.
She curls her lips together, like she’s holding in laughter. A few seconds later, she says, “Fine. Show me what you’ve got, Axelrod.”
I rake my gaze over her, taking in her long legs, pretty lips, lush hair, and her creamy skin. I imagine kissing that slope of her shoulder, then pushing her sweater down, and with that lust-drenched image in mind, I give my date a long, slow, lingering chin nod.
Her breath hitches. Like it did yesterday. Her chest rises and falls. Her lips part. This is so fucking fun.
“Better?” I deadpan.
She blows out a breath as she nods, slow and purposeful, like she needs to get her bearings after that eye-fucking. “Very smoldering.”
“Good. Will that work now for boyfriend material?” I ask, my voice low, just for her. “Is that in your spreadsheet? Cell C49 or something?”
“C69, but close enough,” she replies.
She went there. Holy shit, she did. “My favorite cell,” I add.
I could leave now. Really, I should. I’m a sweaty mess, and I need to change and shower. Coach’ll be in the locker room in a few minutes anyway to give his attaboy speech since we played like gods tonight. But I don’t want to leave Remy. I make another split-second decision. “Do you need a ride tonight?”
She points her thumb broadly in the direction of the arena entrance. “I was going to take the bus.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh, I’m not?” she challenges.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because my teammates just gave me hell about dating you,” I say, and lest she think that’s bad, I hold up a stop-sign hand. “Because they’re assholes. It’s not because of you. That’s just what they do.”
“Okay,” she says, like she maybe believes me but not completely. “But what does that have to do with giving me a ride?”
I’m no good at this stuff—romance, courtship, and whatnot. I haven’t dated since Heather died. But I treat it like a play on the ice and throw myself into it. “Because if I had to put up with them giving me a hard time, then I want to spend a few minutes with the woman I’m dating.” Because she gave me permission, I lift a hand, tuck her hair behind her ear, and add, “Let me.”
She’s hesitant, like a cat unsure of the person offering her a treat, wondering if it’s poisoned. She takes the treat but doesn’t bite into it yet. “You can drive me home.”
I move almost as fast as I do on the ice, setting a speed record as I shower and change, then meet her at the car.
11
A HOCKEY BIRD
REMY
I said yes to the ride because I wanted to steal another minute with him, or ten. The way he gave me that sinfully hot once-over in the corridor was so different from how Jameson would look at me, like I was his buddy. I was his binge-watching friend, his food-ordering pal, his let’s-hang-out-tonight person. But I also don’t want to get fooled again. I need to know what’s behind Lake’s comment.
Because my teammates just gave me hell about dating you.
As he drives away from the arena, I jump straight into the deep end. My therapist taught me that’s often the best approach to a tough conversation.
“Why did your teammates give you a hard time? I know you said it’s what they do. But is there a reason?” I keep thinking of the grieving widower comment that Daniel made. Are his teammates trying to protect Lake from getting hurt? Is he…too broken, like his sister warned me? Too shut down?
Lake’s quiet as we drive along the starlit water, calm and still. “They said it with an eye roll, like we know.”
I furrow my brow. “Like they know we’re, what, dating? That doesn’t make sense. It’s pretty new.”
He works his jaw back and forth for a beat. “Like they knew I was into you,” he bites out, but with a sneer.
That knocks me even more off-kilter, and I let out a big laugh so he knows I know better. “Well, of course you’re not.”
But he grips the wheel tighter. “How do you know?”
The directness of his question keeps me off balance. “Well,” I begin, but really, I don’t know. I just assumed. “Because you’re not.”