Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“I can totally do lunch,” Brooke says, but her expression turns slightly worried. “But shouldn’t you be resting and gearing up for the game tomorrow night?”
“You’re cute when you worry about me as a hockey player.”
“Sort of like how you’re adorable when you assault men on my behalf.”
“Exactly.” I grin at her, taking in those beautiful eyes staring at me through her glasses. I make a waving motion. “What’s up with those? I thought you wore contacts.”
“What? My glasses?” Her hand comes up and she touches the frames almost tentatively.
“Yeah…they’re sexy as fuck.”
“You can’t be serious,” she says, dropping her hand back down.
“Dead serious. You can wear those to bed anytime with me.”
Brooke rolls her eyes. “I forgot to order more contacts. The new ones should be here in a few days, so you only get these glasses for a little bit more.”
“Tonight, baby, you’re playing sexy librarian and I’m playing the naughty thug hockey player that fucks her over the back of the desk, okay?”
Brooke’s face goes beet red, but she nods her agreement at me.
Chapter 25
Bishop
My mom and I arrive at the restaurant about ten minutes early. Brooke had insisted on meeting us here so I didn’t have to drive the extra twenty-five minutes out of our way to pick her up. I don’t necessarily like that, but this is probably better, because having them meet for the first time in a car is not conducive to good conversation. Plus, it gives me a chance to get settled in and relax as much as I can. Let’s face it…this is a big deal. Ruse or no ruse, this is the first time I’m introducing a girl to my mom.
“You seem nervous,” my mother says.
I don’t even bother asking her how she knows. She’s my mom. She just knows.
I shrug. “I’ve never done this before. Fear of the unknown and all.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure I’ll like her.”
I can’t help but grin at my mom. She always knows how to make me feel safe even in the midst of something incredibly stupid that I have done.
“Oh, before I forget, let me give you this.” She turns and bends to reach into her purse, pulling out a light gray velvet box. She hands it across the table to me.
I open it and stare at the engagement ring that my father had given my mom so very long ago. He’s been dead now almost two decades and the ring has been sitting in the drawer of her bedside table all these years. My mom dated someone seriously a few years after my dad died, and of course, she’d removed her wedding rings. That relationship didn’t go the distance, but my mom never felt compelled to put the rings back on. She dated other men over time, but never anyone who made her want to get married again. She’s actually in the “on” part of an on-again, off-again relationship with a wealth management advisor, and as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.
When I had told my mom about us perpetrating the fake engagement to get Coach Perron off my back, she apparently mulled that over for a few days. She called me just yesterday morning to tell me that she was going to bring the engagement ring with her and that Brooke could wear it as part of the charade.
Not going to lie…it didn’t sit well with me at first. I’d told her it wasn’t a good idea.
She didn’t agree and assured me that it was not only fine, but that maybe it was actually appropriate. Her way of thinking was that if the ring—a symbol of her and my father’s commitment to each other—could be used to help out their son and a woman he cared about, then that was the reason she had kept it all these years beyond sentimentality. She believed the ring had a higher purpose: to help her son out.
It’s a simple ring and something a newly graduated engineer would be able to afford: a thin yellow gold band with a simple, unadorned marquise diamond that’s not quite a full carat.
My mom reaches over and points to the side of the diamond. “There’s a flaw in there. It’s visible if you look really hard. Your poor father fretted over that stupid flaw. It was the reason he could get me a diamond that big on his meager wages early in his career. I’d have never noticed it, but your father felt so guilty about it he had to show me a few days after he proposed. He was such a thoughtful man.”
Chuckling, I turn the diamond and hold it up, trying to see what she’s talking about. I finally locate a very tiny cloudy area and examine it a moment. I think it lends the ring character.