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)
Chapter 20
Dominic
“What in the world did you do during that scavenger hunt?” Briar asks as we pull away from the zoo late that night.
“We’re competitive,” I say, as if that’s explanation enough. And in a way, it is.
We’d gone out with our checklists, not a team but a bunch of individual assholes arguing and fighting with each other about where to go first and who should be in charge. But as soon as we started to see other groups with more checkmarks than we had, our competitive natures had kicked in and we’d needed to not only finish, but finish first.
With my knowledge of where things were in the zoo from my visits there, we’d made quick work of getting from one area to the next, and by the time we had only a few items left on our list, we’d run into the Parker family. The teenagers—Hudson, Maddox, and Trey—had been excited to hunt along with us until we’d all spotted the finish line. And then, the race had been on.
Luckily, Rodney was okay after that winning front roll parkour move.
“Do you think it worked? The team building?”
I shrug. “It’s a start. Not majorly different from the competitiveness we have on the ice, but the whole thing—bitching about wearing suits and skipping weekend plans, sitting together and making chitchat about things that aren’t hockey, doing something fun like the scavenger hunt—all play a part in creating something different. Something better between us. Or at least I hope it will.”
“What about Kipson and Anderson?” Briar asks. “Were they about to kill each other the whole time?”
“Pretty much,” I admit, frowning hard. “They kept it together when people were around, but there was enough shit-talking under their breath to put the rest of us on edge. But no punches were thrown, no blood was shed, and no players were harmed during the course of today’s events.” I throw my voice low and flat like a narrator before one of those crazy stunt videos.
“Good. Dad probably would’ve killed me if his players got hurt at the start of the season,” she jokes.
“Speaking of dear old Dad, how do you feel about that?”
Briar wasn’t the only one shocked that her father made the winning donation bid.
Carl had stood up at the microphone later in the evening to announce the winner and I’d expected it to be the lady from Set Grocery or one of the other corporations represented there, but he announced Robert Boothe as the winner and Briar had been stunned into silence. Not the team—her father himself had donated his own money. And when he went up on the stage, with Vanessa smiling at his side, he’d looked out in the audience, found Briar, and said he’d like the baby gibbon to be named Hadiah, Hadi for short. That hadn’t meant anything to me, but Briar had gasped, so it definitely did to her.
“I don’t understand why he did that,” she says a little nervously, still digesting it all. “Like, am I supposed to be okay with everything now? That feels like he’s buying my forgiveness. But also, what he did was actually really kind and meaningful to me. So I’m torn.”
I nod, agreeing with her. “It’s complicated. Forgiving him isn’t a one and done thing, for either of you. You have a whole lifetime of hurts to heal. That’ll take time.”
That feels true. I haven’t been hurt the way Briar has, but even lesser pains aren’t healed with one act. No matter how grand.
“Baby steps,” she says, but I think she’s talking to herself.
As we pull into Briar’s driveway, she’s gone quiet. I can feel the weight of her swirling thoughts like they’re floating around the truck’s cab with us. But are they about what happened with her dad or what we planned for tonight when we got back to her place? I’m honestly not sure.
“You’re thinking loud,” I tell her as I put the truck in park and look over. “Care to share with the class?”
“I’m scared.” She meets my eyes boldly, despite her words.
“Of?”
She swallows thickly, admitting, “Of . . . me, not being enough.” At that, her gaze drops to the console between us.
“Jesus fuck, come here,” I spit out.
I yank up the console and reach across the space I’ve created, pulling her over and settling her in my lap sideways. “Do you feel that?” I demand, grinding my already hard and thick dick against her thigh. “That’s what you do to me.”
“Oh.”
She seems shocked by that. How in the hell does this woman not understand how sexy she is? How beautiful? How fucking downright radiant she is, inside and out?
My voice low and gravelly with desire, I ask, “Do you have any idea the things I want to do to you? With you? Have you do to me?”