Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Sure, you will,” I say. “Just text me anytime you need to play pretend.”
Blakely shifts on her feet. “There will be no playing pretend,” she says, and it may be my ego talking but I swear that's disappointment in her eyes. “I'm your skating coach.”
“That's true,” I say. “You know, suddenly I'm rethinking this. Maybe I need private lessons.”
Her eyes flash wide. “You do not need private lessons, Wolfe, and you know it.”
“Are you saying that because of my skills or are you saying that because you don't want to be alone on the ice with me?”
“Does it matter?”
“Everything matters when it revolves around me,” I tease.
She laughs, and the sound fills up my lungs with the sweetest air. She shakes her head at me, reaching to open her driver's side door and climbing inside. I hold her door open, looking down at her.
“You don't need lessons,” she says again. “I can teach you everything you need to know with the team.”
“We'll see about that,” I say. I point to her bag where her phone is nestled. “Don't be a stranger. I mean it, damsel. Use that if you ever need me.”
I step out of the way, allowing her to shut her door, and she starts her car, immediately rolling down her window as she slowly backs away. “Don't count on it, hero,” she says before driving off.
Leaving me standing there in the parking lot, staring after her with a stupid ass grin on my face. Normally it's me making sure I have the last word, and I find it sexy as hell that Blakely won't stand for that.
CHAPTER 4
BLAKELY
“I cannot believe that hot-kiss guy from The Queen’s Rum ended up being Lawson freaking Wolfe,” Monroe says from where she sits across from me and Reese at our favorite breakfast table.
The Blue Ox is by far the best café in town with incredible coffee and amazing breakfast food. The place became our safe haven when cramming for finals or needing a hangover cure.
Neither of which is the reason we’re here today, which is a little surreal when I think about it.
We’ve graduated college and achieved our long-term goals of working for the Bangor Badgers together. I knew there was some luck involved—having a new owner buy the team and revamping the entire thing certainly helped—but we've done our fair share of work too.
We'd put in the time at school, put in the time with our talents, and showed Mr. McClaren exactly why we deserved to be a part of his team. And now, here we are, living the good life.
I take a giant sip of my iced coffee, shaking my head. “Bad luck for me,” I admit, leaning back in my seat. It's just after seven, the sun's golden rays peeking through the half-painted windows that overlook Main St. The cafe is still bustling with a mixture of locals and college students who are grabbing their fix before making the drive to campus.
“Definitely bad luck,” Reese says, stirring some half and half into her americano. She takes a sip before setting the cup back down on the table, her phone out and face up so she can watch her notifications.
Normally we elect a no-phone rule during girl time, but that's just not feasible anymore with her being the team’s social media manager. Although, this isn't really a girls’ date, more of a quick dish sesh before heading off to work. Practice starts in an hour, and all of us need to be there.
Although while Monroe and I have the daunting tasks of earning the respect of the Badgers, Reese’s role is different. She has the much harder task of making the team look like we know what we’re doing. And as of right now, we don’t.
Hell, we barely look like a team. Half of the rookies fight with the four lone veterans that remain on the team or with each other every time I turn around.
“After you texted us about it in the group chat, I was stoked,” Reese continues.
“Same,” Monroe says. “But just because he's a Badger doesn't mean all the fun has to stop.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, her smile wide and infectious.
She’s wearing a Badgers jersey today, no doubt with Pax’s name on the back. Black and yellow look loud on me but I wear it anyway, but on Monroe? She’s a stunner. It doesn’t matter what she wears, her brown skin, rich brown eyes, full lips, curly black hair, and a no-nonsense attitude make her absolutely irresistible. Even when she’s making outlandish suggestions or talking me into the most ridiculous ideas—like the time she convinced Reese and myself to attend a masquerade party in the hopes of hooking up with a complete stranger and never finding out their identity. The party hadn't gone exactly to plan our freshman year, seeing as the stranger I hooked up with had been Brian, and he'd found me the next day and gotten my number. We'd fallen into a quick relationship that had lasted the duration of my college career.