Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
I've heard that story before. My mom was a fan of the team. My dad was a fan of my mom. And she wasn't a fan of motherhood or being tied down. When she got pregnant and he asked her to marry him, she opted out.
It's just been the two of us since.
I still see her occasionally, but we've never been close. I've never known her enough to miss her when she's not around. She's just the woman who gave birth to me but didn't want the responsibility. My dad is the MVP who stuck it out. He's the one who gave up everything to give me an incredible life. As far as I'm concerned, he's a hero.
He drops a kiss on my head. "Let me go light a fire under their asses, and then I'll show you to your office."
"Sure," I say weakly, watching as he strides into the locker room. I swallow hard, leaning against the wall. Looks like my fun with Nash Whatley is officially over. There's no way I'm going to risk him being sent down just because I like him. It's just not worth his career. He was born to play, not to throw it all away for his coach's daughter.
"It was fun while it lasted," I mutter, sighing heavily. At least I got good fantasy material out of it. That'll have to do because my dad was serious. He will absolutely send him down to make an example of him. And then I'll forever be the girl who ruined Nash Whatley's career. Exactly like I ruined my dad's.
I do not need that bad juju following me around. No, thank you.
Chapter Two
Nash
"Holy shit," Logan says, a bark of laughter erupting from his lips as we sit at our usual booth at the back of the Players' Club on one of the upper levels of the arena. "The lizard dick chick is here."
"Fuck," I mumble, sloshing beer across the table as I glance up, immediately doing a sweep of the bar. I fling the sticky liquid off, my dick turning to stone when I spot Emilia practically dancing her way across the room toward the bar, her dimples on full display as she laughs to herself.
Jesus H. Christ, she's gorgeous.
Her black hair is pinned up on top of her head with pieces hanging free around her heart-shaped face. Dark, sooty lashes frame her stunning gold eyes. Her soft blue sweater dress skims her body, hinting at the lush curves I had beneath my hands just one week ago.
I've thought of little but those curves and those dimples since. As soon as I walked out of the shower and saw her standing in the locker room, my goddamn heart stopped. I can't even explain what happened. I just know I wanted her away from my teammates and all to myself, pronto.
"The lizard dick chick? What the fuck, Logan?" Archer shakes his head in disgust. "She has a name."
Logan smirks at him, throwing an arm over the back of the leather booth. "Yeah, but lizard dick chick is more fun to say."
"Says the motherfucker who spends half of his life talking to himself in a net," Jordan mutters.
"The conversation in that net is scintillating, bitch." Logan flips him off, earning a grunt from Jordan. "And scintillating doesn't mean it smells like your sweaty balls, in case you were wondering. I know big words are hard for you and shit."
"Man, fuck you." Jordan takes a pull from his beer as he side-eyes Logan. "Why the fuck couldn't we trade for Dacen Reaper instead of you?"
"Because they pay your big ass too much and couldn't afford him." Logan bats his lashes at Jordan. Like me, Logan is new to the team. He played for the Predators for years, but something happened with his sister. He's incredibly tight-lipped about the details, but it prompted his move here. "You're stuck with me instead. Suck it up, buttercup."
Jordan cracks a smile, shaking his head.
I go back to staring at Emilia. She stops halfway across the bar to talk to Alice Madison, our publicist. Judging by the way they hug it out and then start talking with their hands, they've got a lot to say. I lean closer…like that's going to help me hear over my loud fucking teammates.
Jesus. Do they ever shut the fuck up?
No. The answer is no.
"She's really Lariat's kid?" Diego asks from beside me.
"Yes," I growl, turning to glower at him. I send the same warning look to everyone else at the table. "That means hands off. Coach will rip your balls off and feed them to you." And by coach, I mean me, but I leave that part out.
"Damn. What did Lariat say to you in his office the other day?" Logan asks, one brow quirked. "He's got your big ass out here defending her honor like she's your kid."