Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Ooh, that’s dangerous territory that I’m not ready to explore with these guys yet. I give him my trademark cocky grin, “I just got here. What’s your excuse?”
Bill clears his throat. “I have a confession to make.” That instantly draws all attention his way. “I’m married.”
All the air is sucked out of the space around us as we stare at him incredulously. I’ve done extensive homework on every teammate and nowhere have I seen a single mention of him being married. Yet, he apparently has a whole, entire wife that he’s been hiding?
“What the fuck?”
“Is she real? Dolls don’t count, man.”
Bill grins. “She’s real. Been married just over two years. She kept her name because she’s a doctor.”
Another shoe drops.
“A doctor?”
Pacholek hoots. “Ooh, Bill got himself a sugar mama!”
The teasing doesn’t stop, but Bill takes it all in stride, bragging proudly about his wife before finally pulling up a picture on his phone. His wife is gorgeous, which means the teasing starts all over again about how a guy like Bill pulled a woman like that.
I’m grinning, feeling like I’ve done some real good here, when Kipson leans my way and rumbles, “I still hate you.”
I whisper back, “Aww, love you too.”
And the best part is . . . he doesn’t say “fuck you.” And that is true progress.
“Dinner the same time tomorrow?” Sabine asks as we head back upstairs after dinner.
“Yep, I’ll even make reservations this time.” I think we’ll need them because given tonight’s success, I’m hoping even more of the team shows up tomorrow.
Chapter 19
Briar
“I feel like a penguin. Waddle, waddle, waddle,” Dominic grumbles, yanking on his tie, which actually makes it more crooked than it was before he messed with it.
“It could be worse. We have an actual penguin costume if you’d prefer?” I offer, straightening it for him. “It’s only had a dozen or so people sweat in it before, so I’m sure it’s fine. Definitely better than a suit. Want me to grab it for you?” I blink innocently, as though it’s a genuine offer.
He arches a dark brow, not pleased with me, nor his current attire. “Just not much of a suit type.” He’s shifting his shoulders, pulling on his cuffs, and smoothing his tie, obviously uncomfortable.
“Well, it’s for a good cause,” I say airily, glancing around to check on the rest of the Blizzard players.
They’re all here and I can’t believe I pulled this off. Dominic, Anderson, Sabine, Pacholek, Kipson, Rodney, and Tomville are all hiding in a too-small concession stand kitchen with me and Trina, waiting for the announcement of our special guests at tonight’s event.
Some zoos hold big, spectacular galas with black-tie tuxedos and gowns, flowing champagne, and catered appetizers invisibly passed by waitstaff. We’re not that kind of place. The Berkshire Zoo runs on a shoestring budget and can’t afford that type of event, so instead, tonight’s fundraiser will be in our outdoor picnic area, where we’ve hung strands of twinkly Christmas lights, set out pumpkin-focused centerpieces (which will be chopped up for animal treats tomorrow), and created several areas of fall-themed fun, like a small-scale hay maze, apple toss, and scarecrow photo ops.
Lucky for me, zoo employees are wearing our nicest uniforms because we’re to mingle with the guests, talk about the animals housed here, and highlight how donated funds will be used to improve things. So I’m comfortably rocking out in my khaki pants and logo’d button-down shirt. Très chic.
“I don’t know, Lee,” Anderson says, “I make this look good.” Anderson is standing at attention, ready to step out into the crowd, and from the neck down, he’s right. His suit is perfectly tailored and pristine, and he does look dapper. But his face? The sneer he shoots at Dominic is pure antagonism. Dom could say the sky is blue and grass is green and Anderson would argue just to be contrary.
I’m not sure what Dad told them about tonight, but I appreciate that they’re here, as long as they don’t ruin the whole thing with their infighting, which seems like a pretty distinct possibility. Of course, Dad didn’t come. I knew he wouldn’t. But there was a little piece of me that hoped anyway.
“Actually, you do,” Dominic agrees with him. “You look slick as elephant shit.”
He cuts his eyes to me, a tiny smirk on his lips. Elephant dung isn’t slick at all. It’s thick, filled with hay pieces, and actually really useful as fuel for campfires out on the savannah. Not that Anderson would know that, but Dominic does. He listened to me give a whole educational lecture on it while we cleaned.
Was that only a week ago?
Time has flown by. After leaving that night, Dominic had games that weekend so he was focused on team activities. But Harley and I watched the games on television, cheering the Blizzard—and Dominic—on. Dominic practiced with Harley once on Monday, but flew out for midweek games in New York. True to his word, though, he didn’t bail on me. He called, video chatting as he celebrated two successful pregame dinners that hadn’t sounded all that successful to me, but I’m not great at understanding the male psyche, and one winning game along with a tie, which means points in hockey. He also sent me a bouquet of yellow daisies with a card stating simply Thinking of you—D, and he’s taking me home tonight after the zoo event.