Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Brody hit the showers, then returned to his locker to check his phone. He couldn’t stop a smile when he found a text from Hayden, congratulating him for the win. He quickly sent a message in response.
BRODY: Thanks, Professor. Means a lot.
His smile widened when she immediately started typing.
HAYDEN: I told you to stop calling me that!
BRODY: Why? It’s hot.
HAYDEN: How is me being a professor hot?
BRODY: Babe, every guy has fantasized about his teacher at one point in his life. Trust me, it’s hot.
HAYDEN: In that case, do you want me to wear some slacks and a blazer when I see you tomorrow?
BRODY: Fuck yeah.
HAYDEN: Maybe put my hair in a tight bun too…
BRODY: I’m in public, stop turning me on.
He shrugged his suit jacket on, which he was mandated to wear on away games, and especially during the playoffs. Then he typed out her another message.
BRODY: What are you thinking for dinner tomorrow? I can bring Chinese.
HAYDEN: Yes please! And make sure to get the broccoli eggplant and chow mein.
BRODY: I hope you know that’s not the only eggplant you’re getting.
“Did you just refer to your dick as an eggplant?” Jones asked from behind him, and Brody swore when he realized the rookie was reading over his shoulder.
“Hey, privacy!” He quickly shoved the phone in his pocket.
“And who’s Hayley?” Jones pressed, grinning widely.
Brody swallowed his relief that Jones had misread Hayden’s name. “Hayley is none of your business,” he replied, giving his teammate the finger. From the corner of his eye, he saw Becker shaking his head at him.
Jones laughed. “Dude, you are so lame.”
“Yeah, well, she enjoys my lame ass. Unlike the chicks you date, who can’t wait to dump you.”
His teammate blinked in surprise. “Wait, what do you mean date? Since when do you date?”
Fucking hell. Why’d he have to open his mouth?
Luckily, their team manager was getting impatient and starting to usher everyone to the bus. Their flight wasn’t until early tomorrow morning, so the bus took them back to the hotel where the team had booked an entire block of rooms.
Brody stopped in his only to change from his dress clothes into jeans and a T-shirt. It was eleven thirty and he’d just played three strenuous periods of hockey, but he wasn’t tired, so he texted Becker telling him to meet him in the lobby bar for a drink.
He got there first, finding the bar deserted save for one lone figure at the counter.
Craig Wyatt.
Brody hesitated. It had been weeks since he’d seen Wyatt whispering with Sheila Houston, but he’d yet to confront the guy about it. Mostly because it didn’t feel like it was any of his damn business. Brody knew he’d be resentful as hell if one of his teammates stuck his nose into his love life. Really, who the hell was he to confront Wyatt, let alone judge him?
It was his suspicions that Wyatt had spoken to the press that complicated everything. His fear that Craig Wyatt knew something about the bribery and game-rigging allegations. His even bigger fear that those fucking allegations might actually be true.
As if sensing his presence, Wyatt lifted his blond head and glanced at the door. He nodded in greeting when he spotted Brody.
Brody nodded back and offered a quick smile, which Wyatt didn’t return. The man rarely smiled. Even after tonight’s win, he’d looked more somber than elated. After three years of skating with the guy, Brody was used to it. But he had to admit, it didn’t make Wyatt feel very approachable.
“Hey.” Someone slapped his shoulder.
He looked over at Becker. “Hey.”
“Want to grab a high top?” Sam gestured to the sea of empty tables. It was Sunday and nearly midnight, and the lobby bar was a ghost town.
Brody glanced in Craig’s direction again. “Think I should go over there?”
Instantly, Becker’s expression sharpened. “What for?”
“I still haven’t talked to him about what I saw.” He suddenly remembered Becker’s offer to talk to Wyatt, and he tipped his head in a question. “Did you ever ask him about it?”
Becker shook his head. “Tried to, but he shut me down. Come on, let’s sit.”
As they slid onto a pair of stools, the bartender drifted over to take their order.
“He shut you down how?” Brody asked, his gaze once again flitting toward Wyatt.
“I told him that someone told me they thought they saw him with Mrs. Houston, and he basically threw up a brick wall. Said he had nothing to say about that and then stalked off. I didn’t want to chase him and badger him with more questions. If he wasn’t going to talk about Sheila Houston, then he definitely wasn’t going to say anything about the bribery allegations. It was obvious he wasn’t going to talk to me, so I dropped it.”
“But he didn’t deny it.”
“Nope.” Becker smiled at the young man who returned with their drinks, thanking him. Then he took a quick sip of his whiskey, set the glass down and eyed Brody.