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)
Arden Hoss isn’t just another broadskie I wanna bang.
She’s the only broadskie I want for more than just banging.
And I would’ve told her that this weekend at the event had she not fucking bailed like a duster that unexpectedly got called into play during conference finals.
Spotting Hoss’s right-hand man passing by leads me to calling out, “Khurana, where’s Hoss?”
He doesn’t even bother slowing down his stride to strike, “Where’s the slut you went skinny dipping with?”
Wow.
So simply standing too close to topless women can become my bad publicity?
“That did not happen,” I calmly insist.
“And yet,” a spin movement to continue the conversation is executed, “that’s not how the PR department feels.”
“You know having a prized girlfriend on your arm would absolutely help those headlines,” Audrey shamelessly plugs.
“Agreed,” Khurana effortlessly backs. “Having someone like Audrey-”
“Or Audrey,” she insists.
“-would be a great idea.” He cockily beams. “Perhaps even the best idea.”
Maybe he should hook up with Audrey.
Two adversaries, one sword sort of sitch.
“Oh, Khuranaaaaaaaa,” sings the woman of my nightmares while rushing towards him. “I need to talk to you about something…”
Thankful for the end of our regulation period together, I resume the mission I was in the middle of when Becks – who I still need to finish my message to – sent me a text.
I need to figure out where the woman destined to wear my number has been hiding all morning.
And I know she’s hiding just like I know those fake headlines add to her justification of it.
The sight of Bricks practically running for the parking lot should be enough of an indicator not to bother him, yet growing desperation convinces me to take the shot anyway. “You seen Hoss?”
“Sick,” he answers, body rotating to keep eye contact while continuing to move towards the parking lot doors. “And so is Mario.”
“Apologies,” I genuinely express. “Need an apple?”
“Nah,” denies the GM’s husband with a small headshake. “Our nanny’s got me. But Hoss might.”
His suggestion has me instantly smirking the second his back is to me again.
Why yes.
She just might.
And what a top cheddar way to show her I truly do give a shit than to care for her in her most vulnerable hour?
Brilliant!
“Nyet,” Cap unexpectedly grunts over my shoulder causing me to practically jump out of my kicks prior to facing him.
“Fuck, you need a bell.”
“You need a muzzle.” He folds his arms firmly across his over-sized chest. “And a trainer. And to be neutered.”
“I am not a puppy.”
“You hump like one.”
“I haven’t humped anything in ages!”
“And what is the Doctenn definition of ages, Snowman?” The quirked eyebrow he presents indicates he’s far from amused. “A day? Two?”
“Much longer than that.”
“So, you weren’t wheeling at the event this weekend?”
“No, you big Russian pylon.”
“That’s not what’s been reported.”
“We all know what’s reported is rarely what actually happened.”
“Except you sleeping with Hoss’s sister, aye?”
Godandcountry, do I loathe the fact everyone knows that shit.
A smug grunt precedes him commanding, “Stay. Away. From. Hoss.” An argument being right on the tip of my tongue is what propels him to add one painfully important phrase. “Ferda.”
Is that what’s really best for the boys?
I mean…I suppose I see his point in that sense.
Squadron mentality isn’t just what a team needs to survive.
It’s what we need to thrive.
And getting even further than we did last season is the most important thing to all of us.
Staying focused on the game – rather than pussy – should be top priority.
Living that one unit, one mind mantra.
Being willing to sacrifice yourself so the rest of your team can have that glory.
That pride.
That success.
That’s what being the best is truly about.
That’s what makes a true champion.
I reluctantly nod my agreement and extend my open hand in his direction. We slap palms twice and cross shoulder bump on a loud “ra”, signifying my agreement as well as the end of the conversation.
He’s right.
I do need to do what’s best for the boys even if it’s not what’s best for me.
Chapter 7
Tanner
I glance at the reusable grocery bags piled into the front seat of my cherry red Camaro while slowly tapping my chin in contemplation.
Pretty sure helping Hoss heal is what’s best for the boys as much as me.
Afterall, she helps get us hyped and helps us stay hyped and never fails to verbally cross check any one of us right in the gibs when we’re out of line.
She’s almost like having one more bench boss in a way.
Or a bench mother?
No.
Not that.
Bench sister, maybe?
That’s probably better branding.
“Tanner?” Father cautiously calls through the speakers in my car. “You alright?”
“Yes,” I clumsily retort, doing my best to shake off the thoughts of this being a mistake. “My apologies for the delay. I was verifying that I had the correct address.”
“Of your ill teammate?”
Alright.
I might’ve adjusted the truth just a bit to fit the narrative I needed to sell in order to not feel like shite for disobeying Cap by being here.