Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
He’s never that far away.
Another reason why hooking up with his tendy can’t happen.
Won’t happen.
Shouldn’t happen.
“Stacked,” I lovingly announce prior to casually pointing, “and Rhonnie got me one earlier.”
“Should’ve known…on both accounts.” An almost boyish grin grows on his face. “Kinda just wanted to check on you, ya know?”
“You remember I’m thirty-eight and not eight, right?” Teasing doesn’t hesitate to tap dance through my tone. “You don’t have to make sure I’ve got plenty of things to keep me busy while you’re away in Chicago for drills camp or Boston for skating or Miami for strategy.” The lighthearted reminder to our youth deepens his coyish smile. “Remind me again. Where are you headed after vacation?”
“I’m with Mari and the kids in Hawaii for two weeks-”
“Mom and Dad are watching the dogs this time?”
“Yeah, we dropped them off last night. You know how much they love our parents’ backyard.”
That’s because they can run wild and free while Dad casually smokes a piece of his cigar each night.
“They fly home while I fly to Detroit for a sports leadership conference. From there I get to come home for a day before going out to NOLA for a communication and conflict conference. Home again for two days and then I’m off to Vegas for a coaches only summit.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss some of the end of summer shit – like the team calendar shoot and rookie vetting – but I’ll be back in time for the full organizational outing pre full team training camp.”
There’s no stopping the smirk that slips onto my face. “Gahhhhh, you’re gonna be so busy.”
“I hate it.”
“You love it.”
“I do, but,” a small chortle is attached to his headshake, “I hate spending less time with you.”
“Like your wife,” my head sassily tips to one side, “I’ll survive.”
“She has our kids to keep her busy as well as her new jewelry business.”
“And I’ve got my practice.”
His lips briefly press together, warning me of the words I know he’s about to spew, because he always does.
Because he feels like it’s his job to take care of me.
Because in his head, I’ve never learned to take care of myself.
“I hate that all you do is work, Gilly.”
“And I hate that you feel the need to give me this speech every summer because you’ve got misplaced guilt about having a career and a family and life outside of me.”
Shame slightly stiffens his jaw.
“I like working, M.”
“I like knowing you have a life outside of work even if it’s just getting a cup of coffee with your big brother a couple times a week to talk about the buds you would be more interested in banging had you not seen what they were packing between their gums.”
“Gingival recession is disgusting!”
“I know.” Small snickers slip between statements. “I’ve seen the pictures in your medical guides.”
“Also,” a sassy head bob is presented, “I do have a life outside of work. I just went to Highland with Aly and Kira this past weekend, remember?”
“Yeah. You didn’t text much.” He lets himself fully smile again. “How was that?”
Amazing until I realized the man I was undeniable overbite crazy about was off-limits.
“Fun,” leaves my mouth in a less than convincing tone prompting me to stuff down my nervous tick hiccup that’s building, “mostly.”
“Aly got too drunk again, didn’t she?”
“When doesn’t she?” Another round of light laughs is exchanged; however, at the end of these I declare, “Alright, I need to get to my first patient of the day-”
“Which is…?”
“Something I’m still not telling you.” Post another snarky smirk, I state, “You’re welcome to call and text and encourage me to go out and get laid whenever your schedule allows.” Mirth spreads through each of our respective gazes. “Per usu’.”
“I’m a good brother slash best bud for doing that, aye?”
“Be a good brother slash best bud and let the kids bring me back a coffee mug, aye.”
“Always,” he states as we close the distance for a hug.
Like I said.
I love M.
And my love for him is why I should steer clear of one beautiful, hazel eyed goaltender.
Ushering out my slightly overbearing sibling to the right smoothly becomes an unexpected segue for the very man I should be avoiding to brazenly skate in from the left.
And unfortunately for me, I let my untouched lady parts do the thinking – rather than my big MD having brain – prompting me to less than gracefully push him into my office back out of sight only split seconds before M tosses me one last wave over his shoulder.
Forsoapoperasake, why couldn’t I have met and almost hooked up with a prince instead?!
I feel like what Princess Brie and Prince Kellan of Doctenn went through was way less complicated than whatever this is.
You know.
If that c-class made-for-streaming movie was at all accurate.
The instant M has crossed the point of no return, I step inside, shut the door, and rest my back against it. “Your name isn’t Trough.”