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)
In short, we’re basically besties now.
“Nope, not a jersey,” Harley answers. “Want a hint?”
Yes, definitely. But before I can answer, Penny does. “Not yet. What about the logo on the ice?”
Harley looks down to where she’s pointing but shakes his head again. “No, but that was a good guess. You’re warmer.”
He’s giving hints anyway, realizing he really has set forth an impossible task. But it takes several more rounds before we finally figure out that the something blue is the top lip of the wall surrounding the ice.
As the second period starts and Harley loses interest in I Spy in favor of locking in on the game, Penny sits back in her seat and leans my way. “On a scale of one to ten, how much of an asshole has my brother been since moving out here?”
“Is ten a complete asshole or not at all?” I clarify.
“Complete.” She winces, one eye closed like she’s afraid to hear the answer.
“Then, I’d say . . . a one?”
“What?” she balks. Then she waves a hand, like she’s negating what I just said. “You’ve got it backward. One is not at all.”
I nod, sticking by my rating. “I’m sure the guys would feel differently, but he’s been great with me. Patient and kind and sweet. He’s really thoughtful and has helped me figure some stuff out that I should’ve seen a long time ago.” I hope I don’t sound too psycho-chick obsessed, but the truth is, I’ve fallen hard for Dom.
Her brows knit together, and she smiles wonderingly. “Dominic Lee. Number sixteen. That guy?” She points at the ice like I might be confused. “He’s not all grunty and bossy, telling you what to do and what not to do all the time like you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached?” She taps her temple, obviously talking about herself.
“No,” I laugh, shaking my head. “That must be just you.”
“Well, don’t I feel special?” she says dryly. But she instantly perks up. “You should hear the things he says about you.”
“He talks about me?” It’s none of my business, but a girl can’t help but be nosy when she’s dangling the intel out so enticingly.
“Oh yeah,” she says, her smile wide. “Nonstop. Well—” She pauses, tilting her head, reconsidering. “When he’s not complaining about the guys, his apartment, or his new coach. That’s your dad, right?”
Nifty little sidestep there, I think. I see where Dom gets his verbal skills from.
“Yeah. He takes some getting used to,” I say diplomatically.
“Dom called him a pickle juice enema,” she confides.
Harley hasn’t been paying us any attention, but of course he hears that. “Mom, what’s an enema?”
“Uh—”
“Enemy,” Penny rushes to say, fixing her fuckup as smoothly as she can. “Pickle juice enemy. You know, makes you pucker like this.” She purses her lips and squints her eyes like she’s tasting something sour and Harley nods with a quiet “oh” before turning his focus back to the game. To me, Penny wipes her brow and mouths, Whoo, close one. Sorry.
I can’t help but laugh. Penny has been welcoming and witty, and I feel like even if we’d met under different circumstances, we would’ve been friends. She hasn’t tried to make me feel like I don’t belong with her brother—because of my past, my son, or because I’m not one of the puck bunny types. In fact, she stuck her tongue out at one woman who was wearing a Mahoney jersey and not much else, informing me that she “licked it so it’s mine,” which I’d thought was hilarious.
“By the way,” she tells me, “he says you’re—and I quote, because I have literally never heard my brother wax poetic before—” She shakes her head like she’s still baffled by the concept. “Walking sunshine in a smoking hot body.” She drops glee-filled eyes over me, looking like she agrees, even though I’m just wearing jeans and a jersey tonight, nothing particularly hot. Though I did take the ten extra minutes to curl my hair in honor of meeting Penny.
That’s what Dominic said about me? How he described me to his own flesh and blood? I feel heat starting to rush to my face and I press my cool hands to my cheeks, feeling how puffed up they are from the size of my smile.
“Oh, and he said that when he makes you nervous, you start spouting out animal facts, which he thinks is adorable. Apparently, he’s your albatross?” She peers at me questioningly. “I told him that’s a bad thing.” She lays her head over and sticks her tongue out, miming a heavy albatross hanging around her neck like the old story. “But he said it’s a good thing?”
I press my lips together but can’t hide my grin. “A very good thing,” I tell her, and she shrugs.
“Hey, you two be weird birds together if you want to be. I’m just glad Dom isn’t trying to run my life from afar the way I expected him to. I’ve already got Griffin doing that, up close and personal.” She lowers her voice to a false baritone, in what I’m guessing is an approximation of Griffin Mahoney, “Don’t go on a hike by yourself. Don’t dance with the soldering gun in your hand. No mafia boss lunches.” She rolls her eyes in annoyance, though those sound like somewhat reasonable requests to me, especially the last one. I have so many questions about that, but I decide to save them for Dominic.