Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
No, I wasn’t an idiot. Jake had thawed a teensy bit toward Smitty, but he was still wary of him and suspicious of our friendship. It made me uneasy. On one hand, it was killing me to be dishonest, but the truth was scary. I’d never felt this way about another man. Ever.
The heart palpitating, gooey, silly buzz of being in Smitty’s orbit got stronger every day. What would I tell Jake, though? I’m desperately in lust and possibly falling into something more dangerous with the closeted bi man you hate. Nope. That wouldn’t work. Or maybe it would if we tried to give things a chance.
It wouldn’t be easy.
This was a very small town, and Smitty was the new guy. People would talk. They wouldn’t care that he was bi, but another queer pro hockey player settling in Elmwood might bring outside attention. Did he want that?
It would put a direct spotlight on our fledgling program at the high school, but they wouldn’t be talking about his skills as a coach. No, they’d want to know all about his personal life with the local real estate agent whose son also happened to be a pro hockey player. My story would become Jake’s story by default.
Our friendship was already becoming a minor point of interest in town if my jet-setting ex-wife noticed.
“You see him a lot, don’t you? Smitty. The new coach. He’s cute,” Piper’d commented at Jake’s last game, flashing a knowing wink.
I’d rolled my eyes and diverted her attention to the action on the ice. “Let’s go, Milligan!”
I saw a lot of my ex-wife during hockey season. We sat together at Jake’s games, cheering our son on the way we had since the day he was born. First smile, first steps, first T-ball game, first lost tooth, first time on skates, first game, first goal, first win…first everything. We did our best to equally share parenthood—the good, bad, ugly and beautiful.
We’d raised an extremely cool and accomplished human, which I liked to think said something about Piper and me. But I was very aware the stakes weren’t the same for us. She had less to lose…always had. She’d remarried a nice guy and no one had batted an eyelash or asked how I felt about it. I was gay…what did I care? Truthfully, I liked Eric, but I’d been wary of having a new “dad” in my son’s life. Not just wary—mildly freaked out of my mind was a more apt description.
But I refused to be sidelined. I refused to be less than. Not when it came to Jake. That meant I had to be Dad of the Year all day every day. I still felt that way. Piper was happily married, traveling the world, and I was hiding the best thing that had come into my life because the world judged me differently. Even in this safe haven, I was judged by a different set of rules.
I forgot the rules when I was with Smitty.
Like right now—his hands on my hips, his lips on my neck.
“Spunk cleanup, all aisles,” he joked, licking his thumb obscenely.
“Gross.” I pushed his chest, but I sucked cum from his fingers and moaned like a ho.
Smitty snickered, biting my chin before stepping toward the sink. He used a wet paper towel and wiped lube from my ass, pulling my briefs and khakis up as he cornered me against the wall and kissed me till I saw a new constellation of stars. His gaze was heated and hot. Knowing Smitty, he was about to say something rude to make me blush or laugh or—
“I need dad jokes, babe. What do you got?”
Uh…okay.
“What? Why?” I washed my hands and righted my clothes, then reached for a bottle of Pinot and two glasses.
Smitty made himself at home, preheating a skillet and opening the package of ground beef I’d left out to thaw in the sink.
“We’ve lost every game so far, Denny is clamming up more than ever, Niall is playing tense, and Adam—don’t tell Tracy, but I don’t think the kid likes hockey. They’re clicking in practice, but they can’t stay loose during games. They need a weapon. When I was younger, I played mean and dirty.” He grabbed a wooden spoon and broke the meat into small pieces, thanking me when I slid a glass of wine on the counter next to him. “I had so much angst I needed to get out. The older I got, the more everything hurt. I had to play smarter. I started heckling opponents with dumbass stuff to get under their skin. And I was shocked at how damn effective it was.”
“Jake might have mentioned that,” I snorted.
Smitty winced. “He told you? I had no fucking idea you were hot. I mean…c’mon. Talk about a direct hit. I’d just wanted to distract him and I did. The boys could learn from my devious, masterful ways. Play like you’re in it to win it, and have a secret surprise pop to throw ’em off guard when things go south…without being complete dicks.”