Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Start by telling me how you ended up seeing him tonight and why you never warned me, I would have been on call.”
I prop my phone against the mirror while I rummage for a make-up wipe. “Because I wasn’t sure if he’d cancel, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
Blaire’s sigh is dreamy. “And he didn’t, because he knows a good thing when he sees it.”
“I work for the team, Blaire,” I insist. “This is against their policy.”
“And he works for your libido, Juliette.”
I scrub mascara off one eye, then the other. My reflection looks flushed. Unhinged. Like someone who spent the evening with the man who could ruin her life in three different departments at work.
“He called me kind,” I tell her. “As if it were a sexy personality trait. Like… it was a compliment. And he fed me ice cream.”
Blaire’s smile is a teasing one. “Ohhh no. Oh shit.”
“What?”
“That’s the voice,” she says. “That’s the I think I’m falling in love with him voice.”
“I am not falling in love with him! Jeez, you cannot fall in love with a man you just met.”
My best friend scoffs. “Uh, agree to disagree. People fall in love at first sight and besides, he’s already seen you half-naked. Admit it, you’re hot and bothered.”
“Because I haven’t had sex in months!” Not that I’m desperate. “Honestly though, his voice alone could make me orgasm.”
“You’ve mentioned as much.” She rolls her eyes again. “Name one man on that hockey team whose voice couldn’t—your brother’s for example.”
“My brother’s voice is not orgasmic, and I’d love it if you wouldn’t imply that it was.”
Blaire shrugs. “The fact that I disdain him because I personally don’t trust him is neither here nor there.” She pauses. “In fact, can any of these guys be trusted? I mean, you’ve seen with your own eyes all the women that throw themselves at these dudes.”
Puck bunnies migrate to the stadium as if it were a pilgrimage, all in the hopes of catching a player’s attention and becoming a WAG.
“Aaron is not Declan,” I maintain. “At all.”
Blaire snorts. “Please, anyone is a better boyfriend than your brother. He’s such a bag of crap—no offense. He’s your brother, I get it. I was literally there the night he introduced two different girls as ‘my girlfriend’ to two different groups of people and kept them on different sides of the bar.”
That memory has me cringing.
Yeah, he did do that.
“He’s tall and ridiculously good-looking, and that mustache during No Shave November?” Blaire blows out a puff of air. “That’s what he brings to the table.”
“Blaire…”
She changes the subject as my frown deepens. “Okay, new topic. Did Aaron at least get your phone number at the end of the date?”
I nod and bite my lip. “But he’s not going to text me.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I say bashfully. “I googled him.”
“So?”
“So… I saw what his last girlfriend looks like. She has big, blonde hair, incredible boobs, and a tiny waist, and I can confidently say I am probably not that man’s type.”
Blaire waves a dismissive hand. “You don’t know what his type is.”
“I know what his ex looks like.”
“Sometimes a man’s type of woman is ‘alive and breathing.’”
I crack a reluctant smile.
“Or,” she continues, “maybe he’s finally ready for a responsible womb to put his baby in.”
“Oh my god.” I laugh, covering my face so she can’t see me blushing. “Stop it.”
My best friend laughs, too. “You’re totally imagining him impregnating you right now, aren’t you? Admit it!”
I am.
But I won’t ever admit it.
“Did he kiss you at the end of the date?”
“No.”
Blaire hums. “Hmm. I wonder why?”
“He barely touched me all night except when he was feeding me.” I recount how I accidentally put my hand on his thigh and he jumped half a mile into the air.
“Did he eat garlic? Onion? Onion rings?”
I think back to our meal. “Yes?”
She slaps her leg and cackles. “There you go, that’s the reason! Bad breath.”
“Uhh, that’s a bit of a stretch.”
“I’m telling you, he didn’t want to put his mouth on you because he stank. Chivalry is not dead after all.” Her chin is notched with an air of authority.
I roll my eyes and continue washing my face. “Whatever you say.”
“I do say.” She pauses. “I wouldn’t let a man near me if I had garlic breath. Girl, that shit makes me smell for days.”
Yeah, same.
“Anyway. My point is, he’s going to text you—he wouldn’t have bothered otherwise.”
“Want to make a bet?” I love the cheap thrill a bet brings.
“Obviously. What are the stakes?”
“If he doesn’t text—and I don’t think he will—I have to go back on the dating apps and swipe on at least ten new dudes.”
Blaire scoffs. “That is so lame. You’re probably going to be swiping later anyway.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I haven’t swiped in at least two months. Not since I matched with Preston.”