Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Snickers over the food challenge most of the boys failed last spring during playoffs are immediate.
And more importantly, louder than their predecessors.
“Daft,” Audrey retorts in a blatant effort to kill the moment.
“Quit trying to sound like someone you’re not,” Hoss viciously bites back. “I already get enough of that in my life thanks to Snowman pretending to be British.”
“I’m not pretending to be British.” Picking up the tiny paper cup barely precedes the claim, “However, I actually am Doctenn.”
“Not a real country.”
“It is a real country.” It’s impossible not to let mirth skate across my expression. “And you know that.”
“Of course she knows that,” interjects Audrey. “Our company has several locations all across it.”
“Your company?” The lukewarm beverage stops mid soar to my lips. “What do you mean your company?” This time she successfully receives all my attention. “Are you not simply an LMC representative?”
She slowly shakes her entire body. “We are LMC.”
“What?!”
“It’s our family’s company,” Audrey continues to explain. “Publicly catered-”
“Traded.”
“-but our family started it and still owns the vast majority of shares and makes all the cooperation-”
“Corporate.”
“-decisions.”
My face instantly snaps back to Hoss. “You’re our team’s biggest sponsor?!”
“I wanted to be the team’s owner – so I could fire you – but Hennington wasn’t willing to sell.”
Uncertainty regarding whether or not she’s joking is easy to glide past in order to ask, “Does she know who you are?”
“Of course.”
“Did you?!” I toss my question to her lackey. “Before now?”
“Yup,” he smugly answers.
“Do the boys?!”
“No.” All of a sudden, her voice dips to an uncomfortably meek tone. “And I don’t want them to know.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want them to treat me any differently.”
“They wouldn’t.”
“They would, just like they did Peck the second they realized it’s his family’s company that basically supplies the entire league with equipment.”
Yeah.
Having your rookie’s name basically on all your shit is fucking strange.
Like right under your tendy wearing neon suspenders strange.
However, we got past it.
We can get past this.
“It’s been hard enough gettin’ everyone to forget the fact that I’ve got tits instead of testies and that the thing in my ear is an aid and not a cuff.” Her headshake is small yet painful. “I don’t need more reasons to stick out like a fucking bender.”
“You’re a fucking beauty, Hoss.”
Her mouth immediately cracks open in silent objection.
“And fuck the boys if they can’t see that.”
For the first time – ever – I see the shit I’ve been working so hard to fucking see.
Belief.
Ignoring the snow that shit kicks up in the pit of my stomach takes a Bench Boss in the sky miracle only made easier by her quiet pleading, “I’m trusting you to keep your mouth shut about this, Tanner.”
“I will if you keep calling me Tanner.”
The twitched glare is sprinkled with a bit of amusement.
“When the boys aren’t around,” I slyly add, wanting something else that’s just between us.
Something that can be just ours.
“When it’s just us.”
“It’s never just us.”
“When it’s practically just us.”
“Fine.”
“And if you let me call you Arden.”
“Too much,” she swiftly surrenders and prepares to storm away. “I’ll just take the L and tell ‘em myself.”
“Wait.Wait.Wait.Wait.Wait,” clumsily comes out of my mouth, cutting off her movements. “Just the Tanner thing is plenty.”
Hoss victoriously smirks and lifts her cup towards mine for clinking. “Deal.”
“Deal.” I tap mine against hers and quickly down the mixture to assist in hiding my grin.
Because I wanna fucking grin.
And gloat.
And stick tap myself for the major gino.
Getting anywhere with Arden Hoss is like being dubbed top of the conference, which is why getting everywhere with her will feel like winning the fucking Cup.
And I’ve never wanted anything this bad in my life.
Not even the actual cup.
“Well?” purrs Audrey too close to my ear. “Is it for you?”
Rather than reply to her I keep my gaze locked with the twin I’ve always been after. “I wouldn’t mind drinking it with my one and only first thing in the morning.”
There’s a clear urge to smirk that she undeniably fights by biting her bottom lip. “And um…” she flicks the strands away from her eyes once more, “what’s your favorite fall drink, Frosky?”
“Wanna know?” Knowing I’ve got her full attention effortlessly leads to me needing to keep it, so I look directly into the camera and cockily wink. “Gotta watch my show.”
“Stick taps for the segue, Snowman.”
“That hurt, Hoss?” The corner of my lips kick up even higher at the same time I begin to retreat towards the ice. “Saying something genuinely nice to me?”
“Definitely hurt.” It’s her turn to faintly beam. “But not injured.”
GordieHowegivemestrength to not royally fuck this up.
“Those are synonyms,” criticizes Audrey in obvious irritation.
“Not in hockey,” I offhandedly correct while maintaining unbreakable eye contact with Hoss. “And not to the woman I wanna see wearing my number by the end of the season.”
Chapter 4
Tanner
Why is getting Hoss to simply shoot the shite with me harder than fucking contract negotiations?