Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Mason: That’s not a no.
Aiden: Did she put you to work too? I bet Hudson’s out there chopping wood and tilling fields while Molly’s sipping lemonade, laughing at his misery.
Hudson: I’m not chopping wood.
Mason: Sure you’re not. I can already picture you. Shirtless, flexing for Molly like some Hallmark movie farmer.
Aiden: “She fell in love with the farm boy. His abs were the real honeymoon.”
Hudson: You guys are idiots.
Dane: At least tell me you took her somewhere nice before forcing her to do manual labor.
Hudson: I didn’t force her to do anything.
Mason: So what you’re saying is Molly is out there bonding with your mom while you’re baling hay. That’s the story?
Hudson: There’s no hay. You’re all unhinged.
Aiden: It’s a farm. There’s definitely hay.
Hudson: Can you all focus on something else?
Mason: Nope. You’re the entertainment today, Wilde.
Hudson: You’re all dead to me.
Mason: Is that you in the barn? Is that where you’re texting us from right now?
Aiden: He’s probably hiding from his mom.
Dane: Or hiding from Molly after she realized this is her “honeymoon.”
Hudson: IT’S NOT A HONEYMOON.
Mason: Sure, Farmer Hudson. Now go tend to your chickens or whatever.
Hudson: I hate all of you.
Mason: Love you too, big guy. 🐄
Aiden: 🐓
Dane: 🧺
Hudson: What’s with the basket?
Dane: It’s for the eggs Molly’s probably gathering.
Hudson: I’m blocking this chat.
Mason: No, you’re not. You’d miss us too much.
Hudson: I’ll send you all hay bales for Christmas.
Aiden: He admits it! There’s hay!
Mason: HA.
Hudson has left the chat.
Mason: He’ll be back.
Aiden: He always comes back.
Dane: Text me when he starts ranting about this in person.
Mason: Deal.
75
Molly
The chill of the rink hits me the moment we step inside.
It’s freezing in here. Or maybe it’s the contrast from the warm air outside, but damn I’m cold.
The crisp air tickles my cheeks as we make our way to the ice.
“This was the first real rink I ever skated on,” Hudson tells me as we stand beside the entrance.
His grin is wide enough to make my heart stutter.
He looks alive here, like the ice is where he belongs, where he’s completely himself.
“All right, Hex.” He nods toward the benches. “Let’s do this.”
“Do what?” I glance at him and then at the ice.
“Lace up, duh.” He motions to the skates he’s carrying.
“Wait, are we really doing this?” Can I sound any dumber? Of course we’re skating. He’s borrowed Anna’s skates; what did I think he was going to do with them?
“Yes.”
I let out a long-drawn-out sigh. “I haven’t done this in years. Like since I was a kid. And even then, I was terrible at it.”
“Which I find funny knowing who your brother is.”
“Why? Not all siblings are the same. Look at you and Anna.”
“You make a valid point.”
“I always do.” I smile. “Okay, so I’m warning you. I suck at this. No laughing.”
“Would I laugh? Fine. I would. But I promise I won’t. Plus, I’m here to help,” he says, dropping onto the bench and motioning for me to sit beside him. “I’ll make sure you don’t break anything.”
“Reassuring,” I mutter, but I sit down anyway.
Hudson grabs a pair of skates from the bag he brought and slides them across the floor toward me. “These should fit.”
I sigh, kicking off my sneakers and slipping my feet into the skates. They feel stiff and awkward.
“Have I mentioned I don’t skate?” I deadpan, staring at my feet like I want to rip the skates off.
“Here.” Hudson crouches in front of me. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to you, of all people, but you’re doing it all wrong. I’m literally mortified for you and your brother; you have no business working for an NHL player.”
His words hit close to my own fears. I really don’t have any business working for him.
My mood turns dark as intrusive thoughts try to push their way in, but I don’t let them.
I will not ruin the moment.
Instead, I raise an eyebrow as he takes over. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on tying skates?”
“Pretty much,” he says, glancing up at me with a smirk. “You’re in good hands.”
I roll my eyes, but there’s no denying the way my pulse quickens when he looks at me like that.
Once my skates are on, Hudson leads me to the edge of the rink, his hand steady on my arm. The ice stretches out in front of us, smooth and slippery from what I can remember.
I see the irony, of course.
Dane loves being on the ice, and like most things I can’t control, I hate it.
The idea of falling on my face isn’t that enticing.
Yet here I am, stepping onto the ice, and the moment my skate touches it, I wobble.
This is pathetic.
I take another step out, and my legs spread so wide I look like a baby deer learning to walk.
Bambi’s got nothing on me.
“How are you so bad at this? Your brother is legit the best enforcer in the league.”