Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I just look at her.
Fuck.
My.
Life.
“I don’t appreciate you exploiting my uncertainty for your gain.”
She shrugs as the guys all chuckle at her antics and my dismay. “Then pick a sport,” she says before checking her nails, as if my decision isn’t the biggest of my life.
Ashlyn is about to jump off the bench when my goalie speaks up. “I can come.”
She pauses, her brows coming in despite the boredom on her face. She thinks he’s just a regular college kid. With a snarky tone to her voice, she says, “We don’t have goalies in the draft this year. So, no, I’m good.”
I can’t help but bark out a laugh, and Louis holds his fist to his mouth to keep his in. I see the smirk on my buddy’s face before he pushes off his mask. His wild blond waves fall to his shoulders, the sharp edges of his face prominent from the low lights of the rink, while his ice-blue eyes settle on her. He’s a fucking giant at 6’7”, built like a swimmer, toned and full of muscle that makes it easy for him to move fast. It’s why he is the best in the NHL.
With a satisfied grin on my face, I watch the moment she recognizes him, and the red that creeps up her neck makes all this worth it.
In a low voice, she mutters, “Phillipe Odder.”
Yup, number one all-around draft pick of his class, who went on to win the Vezina and Calder Memorial Trophy his rookie year. He won it again last season, and after a blockbuster trade, Shelli Adler-Brooks brought him home from the Sharks. The amount of money she paid for him, and the draft picks she gave up, was frowned upon, but there hasn’t been a goalie like him since his dad, Tate Odder, and she knew she had to get him home.
We’ve been friends since we were kids, and scoring on him means I can score on anyone, which is why he does this for me.
Ashlyn exhales but rebounds quickly, plastering a huge smile on her face. “I’ve contacted your agent, and he won’t ever get back to me.”
Phillipe runs his tongue along his teeth, and yeah, I’ll need to warn him of how uptight she is. He’s too easygoing for someone like her. “Should have just slid into my DMs.”
He has a bit of a Swedish accent since his dad is from Sweden and they spent lots of summers there. Usually, women swoon at the lilt in his voice, but my crazy-ass cousin just glares. “Do I look like someone who slides into someone’s DMs? I am a professional.”
Phillipe grins, but it isn’t an easy grin like I’m used to. Instead, it’s a hungry one that has me gagging. “Dude, stop looking at my cousin like that.”
He pays me no mind while my brother cackles. Ashlyn glares at me but returns her gaze to Phillipe. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Would you like my personal number?”
I know she wants it; I can see it all over her face, but she’s going to die on the professional hill she’s standing on. “No. Tell your agent to reply to my emails.”
With that, she jumps off the bench and struts away, but I don’t miss the redness on her face or the tension in her shoulders. She wants Phillipe for her camp. He would bring in so much money and more kids, but her pride is a bigger bitch than she is.
I set my buddy with a look. “Enjoy yourself there?”
Back is the easygoing grin. “Oh yeah. I forgot how hot your cousin is.”
My face scrunches as Louis pipes up, “She’s great when you get past all her crazy.”
“I think she’s incredible,” he says, and then he pulls his mask down. “Remind me to call my agent.”
Louis laughs as he gathers a puck on his blade then sends it to me. His pass is fast, hard, and I’m ready for it. I swing my stick, connect with the frozen rubber as the crack of my stick against it echoes around the rink. When it goes over Odder’s shoulder, a shot he should have had, I raise a brow. “Shit, if I’d known my cousin would be that big of a distraction, I would have brought her in years ago.”
Odder laughs at that before we get back to business.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Dawson
We take turns shooting on Odder, going through two buckets before we break to gather pucks. Once they’re back in the buckets, we head to the bench to rehydrate. I’m breathing heavily as I guzzle my Gatorade. Odder isn’t the least bit winded, leaning on the boards as Louis sits beside me, checking his phone. I push my shoulder into his. “Texting Jen?”
He gives me a sheepish smile and nods. “Yeah. He has a meeting with some executives today. I want to wish him luck.”