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)
“Debatable.”
“Then debate with me,” slides out like a loose puck I swore I had possession of.
The dark, curly haired female bashfully steals a bite out of her plump bottom lip that I won’t deny I want on top of mine.
My neck.
Chest.
Cock.
Fuck me…is this love?
Thankfully, the gorgeous grin on her face grows irrefutably brighter as she answers, “Maybe after I order a drink.”
“What are you havin’?”
“Is that your way of asking can you buy me a drink?”
“No, I’m definitely buyin’ it…” Small chuckles are attached to me leaning forward to rest my arms on the bar. “Jus’ curious as to what I’ll be payin’ for.”
Giggles flood the gap between us, summoning me to scoot closer.
Guzzle them down.
Get drunker than I’ve ever been before on the sweetest and most intoxicating sound in existence.
I mean my fucking tooth is beginning to ache.
If she keeps this shit up, I’m gonna end the night looking like Looferz – the teeth are optional second liner I tendy for on my NHL team, The Dalvegan Dragons.
The same forward I volunteered to drive home on Tuesday – if needed – after his apicoectomy.
Whatever the fuck that is.
And why would I offer to spend one of my non-training summer mornings listening to old tunes in my buds while pretzeling myself into an uncomfortable waiting room chair?
Because that’s what it means to be there for the boys.
That doesn’t just apply to time on the ice.
Harlow “Hot Rocket” Hennington, Owner and GM of my team, along with Milano Blanc – our head coach – believe in being a team…a family…down to the roots.
It’s one reason I’ve never expressed interest in a trade, and one reason I hope they never become interested in trading me.
That type of “runs in your bones loyalty” is rare.
Especially in sports.
To my surprise, my five-eleven jean dress wearing dream come true folds herself a little closer to me. “I’m not sure what I should order.”
“Is that your way of askin’ me for my opinion?”
“Maybe.”
The sass in her tone gets me thoughtlessly groaning.
“What do you like?”
“I’ll show you mine when you show me yours,” I teasingly state back.
Snickers precede her playfully correcting, “You mean tell me.”
“Do I?”
Another round of giggles escapes; however, this time they have her head lolling back.
Curls swaying.
Full tits bouncing, begging to be in my mitts.
Mouth.
Luongohearmenow…this woman is meant to be mine.
We’re talkin’ “Hello Darlin’” Conway Twitty type of mine.
We’re talkin’ French press lavender infused cold brew on a hot summer day kind of mine.
We’re talkin’ willin’ to give up my chance at the fucking Cup to be with her instead level of mine.
Yup.
This is love.
And I don’t even know her name yet.
“Typically,” the bombshell beside me warmly begins again, “everyone else just does the ordering for me. Friends always assume that I’ll just have what they’re having.”
“And dates?”
My brazenness – gratefully – doesn’t get blocked. “Whatever the last woman they were with drank.”
“Trashy.”
“Not classy.”
“Sloppy.”
“Careless.”
“Which is…” my fingers fold together in front of me, “unfathomable to me that the person lucky enough to go out with you would fuck up their shot so…absentmindedly.” Tilting my head slightly to one side is done prior to me prodding, “Unless…you like other people makin’ decisions for you?”
The question instantly crinkles her forehead. “I don’t know that I like it.”
“But you don’t know that you don’t?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever thought much about it.” Her body casually angles itself to face me better. “I’ve always been more of a ‘go with the flow’ type of person.”
“Why?”
“Because it was easier.”
“Was it?” Lifting of my light brown eyebrows occurs between statements. “Or were you really jus’ afraid the world would reject you for bein’ whoever it is you really wanted to be?”
Her jaw instantly plummets to the scuffed-up floors.
“You pick the play,” I declare at the same time I drag over the drink specials menu, “and I’ll follow the call.”
Once more, she takes a nervous nibble of her bottom lip.
Wordlessly contemplates.
Scrambles to decide which angle she thinks my slapshot is coming from instead of simply believing in the point-blank clapper I’ve declared.
Sadly, there are too many people in the world out here pretending to be someone they’re not.
That’s never been me.
Never will be.
“Okay…” the hesitation lingering in her voice doesn’t have me rushing to make the decision like I would bet my lucky playoff season bowtie she’s hoping it will, “let’s order everything.”
“Everything it is.”
Shock doesn’t hesitate to flash in her expression. “Wait. What?!”
“You said everything.”
“That’s because I didn’t think you’d really go for it!”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s…Idontknow…expensive?!”
“I make enough money.”
“It’s time consuming!”
“I have all the time in the world to be with you.”
Clearly caught off guard by my rebuttal leads to her verbal flailing, “It’s…It’s…It’s…”
“What you thought you could say to trick me into makin’ a choice for you.”
There’s no missing the tiny wince that scrunches her nose.
“Make no mistake, beautiful. I may look big and dumb, but I’m far from it.” A cocky wink precedes me hollering over to the nearest bartender. “Moose!”