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)
God, her lips.
They are full and slightly parted like she’s about to say something clever.
But her eyes hit me hardest. Seafoam green, bright and sharp, like they’re daring me to get too close. They lock on to mine, and I swear she sees right through me, peeling back every layer with one glance.
The world narrows to just her. Us.
I’m not the kind of guy who believes in fate, but right now, I’m wondering if maybe it believes in me. If this girl didn’t just catch me staring at her ass, I’d probably ask her out right this second. But unfortunately, she seems unimpressed by me.
In fact, she props her hand on her hip, her eyebrows narrowed.
Fine. Someone doesn’t appreciate me gawking at her. Duly noted.
I lean a hip against the shelf and kick one foot over the other. “What brings you to . . .” I spin a finger around, gesturing to the closet. “This part of town?”
Her eyes flare for a moment before she moves fast, grabbing the nearest object off the shelf, which happens to be a wrench. She waves it around as if it explains everything, frowning once she realizes what she grabbed.
She recovers fast, though, and pulls her shoulders back with fake confidence. “None of your business.”
“Wow. Touchy, touchy.” I don’t bother hiding my amused grin. “Let me guess—you’re an over-the-top fangirl who broke in disguised as maintenance staff.”
She’s not even in the maintenance uniform I spotted when I entered the stadium, but the need to fuck with her is strong. I’m not sure why. I’ve never been like this with anyone else.
“The opposite, actually. I’m hiding in here to avoid people like you.”
“People like me?” I bring a hand to my chest, mock-offended. “You wound me. FYI, I’m a great person.”
“Oh, really?” She raises a brow. “Because staring at a stranger’s ass totally screams ‘upstanding citizen.’”
“Would it scream ‘upstanding citizen’ if the ass didn’t belong to a stranger?”
“What are you doing here, anyway? You can’t be here.” Her tone catches me off guard. She’s openly hostile, something I’m not used to.
It’s my turn to pop up an eyebrow. “And you can?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Of course I can. I practically work for the team.”
I almost expect her to say duh. Like everyone should know who she is. Which makes me wonder why I don’t.
I narrow my eyes. Then it hits me. I know exactly who she is—Molly Sinclair, Dane Sinclair’s little sister. I’ve seen her before, and every time, she looks just as beautiful as she does today.
“And you are?” She tilts her head slightly as she looks me up and down. “Do you even work here?”
“Technically, I work here.”
She raises a brow. “Technically?”
“Fine. I play here,” I correct. “For someone who practically works for the team, shouldn’t you know?”
“Ah, a hockey player,” she says as if it explains everything.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs, shoving the wrench onto the nearest shelf. “Hockey players are basically toddlers with money. Let me guess,” she adds, throwing my earlier words back at me. “You were wandering looking for snacks?”
“Snacks?” I laugh. “I’ll have you know that, in addition to being a great guy, I’m responsible, too. I brought all my snacks with me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I came in because I thought someone was—” I stop myself, realizing how ridiculous it would sound if I admitted I thought she was a teammate jerking off. “Never mind,” I finish lamely.
A sudden smile takes over her face, and holy shit, I really wish we’d met on better terms. Specifically, terms that don’t include me getting caught staring at her very, very nice ass.
“No.” She smacks her forehead. “You heard a noise and thought you’d walk in on something R-rated, didn’t you?”
“Absolutely not,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
“Oh my God.” She’s laughing now, and I can’t even be mad at it. She’s that beautiful. “You did. That’s why you’re acting so weird.”
“I’m not acting weird.”
“You’re still here, aren’t you?” She brushes past me to grab something from a shelf. “That’s weird.”
“Well, excuse me for being concerned about strange noises in a closet,” I shoot back, helping her grab the grip tape off a shelf a solid two feet taller than her. “Next time, I’ll let the angry lady with the wrench handle it.”
“Good plan.” She slides the tape into her back pocket. “And for the record, it’s Molly, not angry lady.”
“Hudson.” I relax my arm when she ignores my outstretched hand.
She narrows her eyes, studying me in a way that both thrills and unnerves me.
“Oh.” Her head bobs up and down. “You’re the new player.”
I take a step forward.
She takes a step back.
Interesting.
“I am.”
“And what exactly are you doing in the storage room?” She swallows, pulling her shoulders back. “You would’ve already had to be in here to hear me dig for the tape.”