Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
So, I broke it off.
Chandler’s happy now. Or so I heard. I think he’s engaged to somebody new. I’m not really sure. Maybe I should check my socials a few times a week instead of secretly obsessing over a certain hockey player.
“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks me.
I give her a weak smile. “A vodka and soda, please.”
“Heading home for the holidays?” the bartender, with a name tag that reads, Wendy, smiles back at me.
I nod. “Yeah.”
She makes my drink. “Families can be tough.”
“It’s not even my family I’m worried about. Every year…” my words fall away when I realize Wendy is no longer paying any attention to me. Instead she’s frozen, staring over my shoulder, her mouth hanging open. “Are you okay?” I ask, peeking over my shoulder to see what’s caught her attention.
Oh.
I see.
Standing in all his glorious beauty is York Steele. Yes, the York Steele.
“Howdy,” York says. “Can I sit here?” He points to the barstool beside me.
Both Wendy and I are momentarily stunned into silence as York’s larger-than-life presence sucks all the air out of the bar.
“Hi,” I say with a blush.
Wendy slides my drink over to me, slowly. I honestly don’t even think she’s finished making it, and as I sip it, there’s no soda at all. Vodka only. I don’t mind though.
I need the liquid courage.
“You're York Steele,” Wendy says, ever the observant bartender. Her eyes are huge as she stares unabashedly at York.
He nods. “Last time I checked.” He winks at me as he slides into the barstool. “Hey you,” he says to me, nudging my elbow with his. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“You know him?” Wendy asks me.
I smile. “He’s practically family.”
Wendy smiles, realizing she has a job to do and snaps to attention. “Can I get you a drink, sir,” she says to York, nervously.
“I’ll just take a Puppy Pilsner.”
She nods. “Atta Boy brews some great beer.” Wendy grabs a pint glass and pours York a beer and drops it off. She moves away to help a few other customers at the other end of the bar.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him as I take another sip of my pure vodka.
“We just played the North Carolina Bears, now I’m heading to your father’s house for the holidays.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“I know you probably don’t watch the games, but yeah, we won. Thanks to yours truly.” York smiles wide and I blush.
Of course I caught the game, but don’t want him to know I watched it and fantasized about York making his last goal for me, and crushing his lips to mine after the game. “I meant, really? You’re coming to my parent’s house for the holiday?”
His blue eyes crash into mine. “Yep. You get to spend four whole days with me.”
I take another long sip of my vodka. “Oh, lucky me.”
Chapter 2
York
Have you ever met somebody who checks off all your boxes? Like perfect smile. Check. Sense of humor. Check. Knockout body. Double check.
But there’s one major pucking thing that doesn’t make the list. She’s the coach’s daughter. And there’s a major rule in my book. Never date a teammate’s sister, daughter, ex-wife. Especially not the coach’s.
It sucks. Because staring at Noelle Pearl right now, with the low light of the bar highlighting her crisp blue eyes. She looks stunning. I almost can’t turn away, but I do.
I take a long pull from my beer before being interrupted by a few college-aged guys.
“Hey, don’t mean to bother you, but was wondering if we could get your autograph,” one of the guys asks.
There’s three of them, and they all appear to be the same age as Noelle, and it sort of pisses me off. I’m not even sure why I’m so upset.
I don’t show it, though.
Instead I act like the nice hockey player I am, and snap a few photos, and sign a few things for the men.
Noelle smiles at them, and they introduce themselves to her. They even ogle her a bit, but I make sure to move my body between them.
As soon as they leave I slide back into my barstool.
“Glad they’re gone,” I tell her, happy to have her all to myself once more.
“Does that get annoying?” She nods her pretty head at the guys as they’ve moved to a nearby table.
I scrub a hand down my face. “No, not normally. Actually I’m happy to have fans who believe in me. And want to see me succeed. I thank them by taking photos with them and meeting them.” I huff out a deep breath. “I just didn’t like the way they were staring at you.”
She lets out a quick burst of laughter. “Are you kidding? I don’t think they even realized I was here.” She plays with the little black straw of her drink between her fingers and takes another sip. “And they didn’t look at me in any weird way. They were probably wondering who I was.” She quickly stands up. “Oh god, York. People are snapping pictures. They’re going to think we’re together.”