Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Igor’s shoulders immediately plummet in defeat.
“We can – and will – praise her again for what a great job she did at science time today during nightly reflections; however, the celly should be about what she did not what she ate.”
A slow nod of submission precedes a quiet conceding. “I get it.”
“I attended an extended early education learning conference out in Highland with my best friend Berkeley – who works with children in a hospital setting – a couple years back. It was hosted by this amazing woman – Presley Collins – who has one of the best private preschools in the entire country and is equally devoted to building the best childcare providers possible. The whole thing was a pretty penny but definitely worth it.” Rising to my feet to begin to clear the table is accompanied by me adding, “I picked up a couple books regarding food aversions that I can’t lend you since I donated my physical copies to Berks – part of the whole minimalist living thing – however I can grab you your own copies for reading while I’m school hunting tomorrow.” My fingers curl around both our plates. “If you want.”
“I’d like that.” An almost bashful grin is given. “I uh…I actually really like reading.”
“That was Rudolph the Red Nose clear the minute you said that Dickens shit.”
Igor stands up to assist in cleaning up. “Kind of like you and Christmas.”
Rather than verbally responding, he’s shot a sassy smirk.
“Dude, it’s so hard to take you seriously right now. You look like Frosty blew one on your face.”
“Your teammate?!”
“That’s Frosky,” he damn near growls. “Who better never fucking blow one on your face.” Igor’s irritation suddenly becomes exponentially more apparent. “Fuck that. None of the boys better ever blow one on your fucking face.”
Pausing with the dishes still in my grip, I disgustedly ask, “Could we maybe stop talking about people coming on my face?”
He sneers one last time and bobs his head in agreement.
“Could we maybe talk about my responsibilities?” I resume my trek to the trashcan on the other side of the room. “I can’t seem to find any documentation about them or a copy of my NDA.”
“Uh…” An uncomfortably long lull begins and continues until my attention shifts back to him. “Was I supposed to write that shit down?”
“Would’ve been helpful.” Post emptying my hands, I lean my back against the nearby counter. “Did you not do that for the other nannies?”
“What other nannies?” Igor instantly counters as he moves towards the fridge to put away the carton of vanilla yogurt.
“Wait.” Inching over is thoughtlessly done. “Am I your first?!”
“There’s gotta be better phrasing than that.”
“Oh, you can talk about your best friend blowing a load on my face, but I can’t ask a question that makes you sound like a virgin?”
He yanks open the stainless-steel appliance, “Da.”
“How’s that fair?!”
“Like body checking being illegal in women’s hockey,” I’m tossed a slightly amused smirk, “it’s not.”
It’s my turn to let my jaw hit the ground in shock.
“Bella hasn’t really had a nanny before.” Igor rotates his frame to face me and rest his forearms on the island counter. “Mostly just me or my mom watching her. And I love my mom – fuck, do I love my mom – but she’s in a different league. She should get to do grandma shit, not parent shit, ya know? She already put her time in with me. She shouldn’t have to come out of retirement because I pulled some rookie shit – despite being a veteran – and knocked up a puck bunny I would’ve rather given my last dime to than my last name.”
The new slice of information has me desperate for more.
“And I don’t know dick about parenting. Yeah, I know more than Ginger did-”
“You knocked up a chick named Ginger?!”
“Da. And the name didn’t match the curtains or the drapes, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
Why?
Why would I wanna know those details about some random pass around that he got pregnant?
“She didn’t know shit about parenting. Like feeding our starving daughter damn near took a court fucking order because she didn’t want her to ‘get fat’.” His infuriated eyeroll inspires me to move to mirror his position. “I’ve spent most of Bella’s life either on the road or in mediation trying to get custody of her, which is something they don’t wanna give you when you spend most of the year living out of hotels or punching people in the face to make money.” As soon as I’m across from him, he releases a somber sigh. “In other words? You’re the veteran here, Joeski. I’m lookin’ to you for leadership.”
Without hesitation, I reach my hand across the space to rest on top of his. “I’m happy to wear the C, Ig.”
Igor offers me a smile so sweet I honestly don’t know whether I should check my blood sugar or my teeth for a cavity.