Contract Season (Trade Season #2) Read Online Cait Nary

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Trade Season Series by Cait Nary

Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)

A heartbroken hockey player and an up-and-coming country music star fake it for the cameras (or do they?) in Cait Nary’s delightfully sexy new novel.

Brody Kellerman has a plan. First, become the best defenseman in professional hockey. Second, get over his ex-boyfriend so he can focus on his game. Hooking up with the singer at his buddy’s wedding was the perfect solution, but it was never meant to be more than a one-night stand.
Seamus Murry has never planned a thing in his life, including hooking up with a smoking-hot hockey player. Being ghosted sucks, but at least one good thing came from it—the breakout hit song of the summer. Now he’s one of country music’s brightest stars, but one slipup—or in this case, video—might cost him his career.
When their video goes viral, Brody and Seamus agree to fake a relationship. But soon it’s impossible to remember what is real and what’s pretend, and although Brody has no intention of falling for freewheeling Seamus’s charm…life doesn’t always go according to plan.


Chapter One

Navin stuck his elbow in Brody’s side. “Dinner and a show, eh?”

“What?” Brody declined to look up from Instagram. He enjoyed weddings—champagne, shots, dancing, happiness, true love, what wasn’t to like? But today he could still hear his now-ex’s voice ringing in his ears: What’s the point of this if you won’t even take me out in public?

Brody’s argument that they went out in public plenty—to brunch, for drinks or smoothies or groceries—hadn’t helped.

Declining to bring London to his hockey buddy’s wedding had been the last straw.

It’s practically work, he’d argued.

He’s your friend, London shot back. Your brother’s the best man. I’ve heard the story about how he got you drunk for the first time fifty times.

It isn’t a small wedding. There’s gonna be tons of people there.

Who’s going to notice one more? And Alex and your family know about you. About us.

Long brown fingers entered Brody’s field of vision, interrupting his view of somebody wakeboarding on Instagram. “Give me that.”

“Fuck off, Navin.”

Navin did not fuck off. Brody was too mature to get into a slap-fight with his childhood best friend while wearing a tux and sitting in a wooden folding chair at his basically-a-cousin’s wedding, so he gave up his phone.

“Anyway,” Navin continued, nodding toward the front of the aisle. There was a big tree, wrapped in a flower installation thing that Alex had said cost twenty thousand dollars. Brody had no idea you could spend that much money on flowers, but money wasn’t an object for Alex Klassen—professional hockey player—and his soon-to-be wife—country music superstar Josette Radley. Brody didn’t know how they made time to see each other during the season.

“Thanks for showing me what twenty thousand dollars’ worth of flowers looks like. I needed to know.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Navin rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Brody. Behave.” That came from his other side in the warning tone his mother had been using his whole life. “Listen to the music.”

“I don’t like country music.”

“Fake it.”

Brody heaved a sigh. He wasn’t usually like this, and he knew he was being a bummer. But going to a wedding was the last thing he felt like doing, no matter how much he usually enjoyed them. There were very good reasons why he wasn’t out enough to show up to a star-studded, heavily photographed wedding with a boyfriend on his arm, no matter what London had to say about it. London wasn’t the one who’d have to deal with the media, with the idiot teammates, with the slurs out on the ice. Brody was making an intentional choice to stay quiet—publicly, at least—about his sexuality until he retired. The people who mattered to him knew. Taking London to a wedding had never seemed worth the trade-off.

But right now, flying solo was undeniably shitty.

No matter how nice this wedding was. One of the country music people was perched on a stool to the side of the flower-draped tree, picking at a guitar as more guests filtered in. It was a gorgeous setting on Josette’s Texas ranch—hills, the quiet sound of water from a creek, horses nodding their heads over a fence and getting bribed with carrots to stand for selfies with the wedding guests. Navin had made him take one when they first arrived.

“Isn’t that The Avett Brothers?” Brody asked, stretching out his legs and looking away from the horses and back to the guitarist, who was drifting his way through the opening bars of “I and Love and You.”

“I wouldn’t know. Not all of us only listen to the saddest music possible.”

“Shut up about the National,” Brody said, gearing up for the hundred and fifty-eighth round of this eternal battle.

“Brody.” His mom sounded like she was being pushed to the limits of her patience. Brody was the cooperative son. “Be quiet and enjoy the scenery.”