Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“You want me to autograph a poster for you or something?” he asks.
“What?” I look away, embarrassed he caught me staring.
“So you’ve got something to admire when I’m sleeping or whatever.” He grins, clearly enjoying this. “I’ve got an online fan club; I could send you the link to join.”
“Go fuck yourself. I was looking out of curiosity, not admiration.”
He laughs. “Well, I sleep in the buff and once you get a full look”
I cut him off midsmarm. “You are not sleeping naked when we’re in the same room.”
He shrugs. “That’s how I sleep.”
“Not when we’re in the same room. I have no desire to meet Dane Junior. That crosses a professional line and you know it.”
“Fine, I’ll keep my boxers on. Or do you want me to wear long-sleeve button-down jammies like a grandpa?”
I sort through my bag, looking for my toiletries and pajamas, which do happen to include pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
“No, I don’t expect you to suddenly understand modesty,” I answer lightly. “But make sure the boxers stay on at all times.”
“Fine. While we’re discussing ground rules, don’t eat while I’m trying to sleep; it drives me nuts. And on game days, I take a nap in the afternoon, so don’t wake me up or come in and out of the room then.”
I toss my toiletry bag onto the bed and look over at him. He’s flossing his teeth, looking at his reflection in the mirrored closet doors.
“I’m a quiet roommate,” I say. “I’ll be asleep within ten minutes, and you should know that if I wake up at any point tonight and you aren’t here, I’ll call Tim. I’m not chasing you down in the middle of the night.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He glares at me, aggravated. “Now, can I go take a shower, or do you want to follow me in there and tell me how to wash my balls?”
I’m so done with his quips. It’s been a long day and I need some sleep.
“I need to get in the bathroom first; it’ll take less than five minutes.” I grab my toiletry bag and walk past him. “Then you can wash your balls however you want.”
“Alone,” he snaps. “I guess showering and sitting on the can are the only times I get to be alone anymore.”
“You made your bed,” I call out from the bathroom. “And now you want to bitch about having to lie in it.”
He’s silent, which is unlike him.
“You’re flipping me off, aren’t you?” I ask, the bathroom door still open.
“With both hands.”
I close the bathroom door, quickly washing up and brushing my teeth. Then I crawl into bed without saying another word to Dane. Tomorrow is my first full day on the road with him, and something tells me I need to rest up for it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Josie
Jane: How are things going with the hockey player?
I stare at the phone screen for a second, considering telling the truth. But complaining never got anyone promoted. And since Dane is busy with his game day routine, today has been relatively peaceful for me.
Me: It’s going well. He’s getting ready for his game tonight.
Jane: Keep me apprised.
Classic Jane. She doesn’t give compliments. Keep me apprised means I’m off the hook for now, but she could become displeased at any moment. I shove my phone back in my bag, glad I’m no longer under her watchful eye every day.
“Is this groin massage gonna have a happy ending?” a player named Tate McGovern asks as he gets on the athletic trainer’s table.
“Probably,” Gina, the trainer, answers with a shrug. “Seeing as I’m the only woman who ever touches you. Just keep quiet while you jizz in your pants, for fuck’s sake.”
Some of the players include Gina in their locker room banter; others don’t. She doesn’t take any shit from them. She said I could hang out with her in the training room, and in the hour I’ve been in here, I’ve learned a lot.
Apparently one of the Tampa players is going to get chirped at a lot tonight. They call him Smitty, and since he slept with a teammate’s girlfriend, he’s on his teammates’ and his opponents’ shit lists.
Chirping is trash-talking opponents on the ice. And from what the guys are saying about Smitty, he’ll be hearing a lot of chirps about his small dick and his back acne tonight.
“Relax,” Gina tells Tate as she puts on rubber gloves.
“How’s Dane treating you, Josie?” Tate asks me.
Everyone calls him Tater. He’s one of the friendliest members of the team, almost always smiling, unlike Dane, who’s usually scowling.
“Fantastic,” I deadpan.
“It’s not your fault, you know. He’s been a salty bastard since his divorce.”
Record scratch. His divorce? Dane used to be married?
“When was that?” I ask.
“Uh, I think like four years ago?” He groans as Gina massages. “Damn, I feel like I should have taken you out for dinner before this.”