Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“That’s awesome, man,” Pax says to me, circling back to our convo before Baylor walked by. “Congrats.”
“Thanks,” I say as we grab our bags and head out the door. The chilly February air hits my skin the second we make it to the player’s lot. “More deals are coming,” I say. “Reese is doing her best to highlight and profile every Badger on the team. It’s only a matter of time.”
They both nod at me, and I’m happy to be saying that with confidence. Thanks to Reese—and one viral video we both helped create—the Bangor Badgers are in the limelight with tons of new followers who are completely new to hockey. Big industry execs have noticed and are doing what they do best—capitalizing off of it. Which I’m all for because the more they want us, the more deals we all get.
“Have fun tonight,” Lawson says as he makes it to his car.
“I’m crashing,” Pax says. “After I devour a pizza.”
A pang of sympathy hits me in the chest, but I smile at him. “Wild night.”
“You know it,” Pax says, getting into his car while Lawson and I linger outside of ours.
“Poor guy,” Lawson says as he drives off.
“Yeah, but he’s a big boy,” I say. “If he wanted something different, he’d make it happen.”
“That’s true,” Lawson says, then stands up a little straighter as Clay walks by, heading to his car. “What are you doing for V-Day, Captain? One or two lucky ladies joining you at your waterfront property?” he asks, and I cringe, shaking my head. Lawson loves to goad Clay even when our captain is the last person he should want to tease.
Clay looks at Lawson like he wants to punch him in the throat, then breathes through it. “I’m taking my niece to see Wicked at the Penobscot.”
“Awww,” Lawson says in a sing-song voice. “That’s adorable.”
“Fuck off, Wolfe,” Clay says, flipping Lawson off before getting into his car.
“I’m his favorite,” Lawson says, getting into his car. “Stay safe tonight.”
“Same to you,” I say before we go our separate ways.
CHAPTER 8
REESE
“What?” I say out loud even though I’m totally alone in my room, watching the live post-game interview on my phone as I get ready for the night.
Nash confirmed our date last night, and after tonight’s win, I’m riding a little high.
His comment about big plans for me sent my nerves flying.
I brush my teeth and finish putting on my makeup, slipping into a warm pair of leggings and a cream sweater, sliding on my boots to help ward against Maine’s chill.
I can’t help but wonder if the smile he’d worn was for the cameras or if he was really that excited thinking about whatever he has planned for us tonight? And did he make these big plans for us because he knew it would look good on camera?
I hate that I don’t know.
I hate that I care.
I shouldn’t. That’s not what we agreed to.
But ever since Anaheim, something changed. At least for me.
I think before that, if I’m being honest.
I can’t deny how much I like spending time with him, and our once snappy disagreements have turned into laughable situations. Like the other day, he’d tried to tell me traditional wings were better than boneless because of their juiciness, even though I countered saying boneless were just as flavorful and less messy. We’d argued about it for twenty minutes.
And I’d never had more fun.
Okay, that’s not true. Having his handsome face between my thighs was certainly more fun than arguing with him over pointless details, but still.
Anticipation curls in my core, making my heart flutter as I look at the time.
He’ll be here in less than ten minutes.
I don’t ever remember being this excited or this nervous for a date. And this one is fake. Most likely.
I mean, all our other interactions have been prompted by the need to perform for the camera, but that night in Anaheim…
We weren’t filming.
But…maybe that really was just sex to him.
Even though we didn’t actually have sex, it was pretty damn close. Honestly, with his reputation, that could’ve been a normal, post-away-game ritual for him, and I just happened to be the girl of the night.
Ugh, I hate not knowing and hate that I want to define things I shouldn’t.
We made this agreement with clear boundaries of not falling in love, so why the hell does it seem like I’m catching feelings for the man?
I shake off the nerves, shoving all those annoying little questions down. It doesn’t matter what I feel. I need to focus on the facts.
We have fun together.
We make each other laugh.
And our chemistry is off the charts.
Who cares if there is a real or fake label to that?
The world may end tomorrow, so in the grand scheme of things, forcing a definition on something this fun would be a crime. I need to let go and just have fun, like my girls keep telling me to as long as my heart is safe.