Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
He presses closer before asking, “Want something to drink?”
A reluctant shiver dances down my spine as his warm breath feathers across my flesh.
Unable to help myself, I glance over my shoulder and meet his gaze. Even though there are fans trying to get his attention, the intensity of it is solely focused on me. Once his eyes capture mine, it feels like I’m ensnared in a trap.
I shake my head as air gets wedged in my throat, making it impossible to catch my breath. “Not after last weekend.”
His lips quirk around the edges. “One or two won’t get you shitfaced. More than that? Probably.” His gaze slides down my body before rising to my face. “You’re a lightweight.”
Even though I told myself I was never going to drink again, a thick knot of anxiety has taken up residence at the bottom of my belly. Maybe just one beer would take the edge off and help me relax. Although, if Ryder would tell me what his plans are for the evening, that would go a long way to settle my nerves.
“Okay,” I relent. “Just one.”
His white teeth flash in the dim lighting of the bar. “All right, stay right here. I’ll grab us something and be back in a sec.”
I give him a nod and he takes off, plowing his way through the throng. Honestly, shoving isn’t required. People scurry out of his way. Ryder probably towers a couple inches over six feet. On the ice, he’s even taller and broader with the skates and padding. He’s always been a force to be reckoned with.
That thought has my mind tumbling back to the game.
I’ve watched Ryder play hockey since he was a mini mite, and he’s not playing with the same level of confidence. I know their old coach left abruptly at the beginning of the year and a new one has taken his place. But as tempting as it is to ask him about it, there’s no way I’d bring it up. It’s not like we’re close and talk about our personal stuff.
I only realized it was an issue when I overheard Mom and Dad discussing the situation. Dad owns a sports agency that represents professional athletes. There are a lot of hockey players since he played in the NHL for more than a decade before retiring and taking over my grandfather’s management company. Mom also works for the family business. I assume Maverick will end up doing the same. Mav entered the NHL draft last year and was picked up by Boston. Just like Ryder, Dad thought it would be best for him to play this season before signing his contract with them.
My gaze stays locked on Ryder as a female bartender catches sight of him and beelines in his direction. Even from here, I can see the cleavage baring shirt she wears with the name of the establishment stamped across her breasts. She grabs two brown bottles before setting them on the long stretch of bar and leaning against it so that Ryder has an unobstructed view of the goods.
They chat for a minute or so before he shoves away from the counter and swings back toward me. The woman stares after him with a besotted look on her face before turning to the next customer.
I almost shake my head.
I’ve attended elementary, middle, high school, and now college with Ryder. I’ve watched this exact scene play out with hundreds of different girls.
This is what’s known as the Ryder McAdams effect.
The man doesn’t even have to turn on the charm to have the fairer sex falling at his feet. His handsome face and athletic build do the job for him. Girls have always been putty in his hands.
A little zip of awareness scuddles down my spine as his gaze fastens on me. And just like before, the crowd parts as people clap him on the shoulder and tell him what a good game he had.
Once he’s a foot or so away, he extends a bottle to me. Only now do I realize how parched my throat is. I bring the glass container to my lips and take a small sip. The icy cold liquid feels surprisingly good going down.
Ryder continues to stare before lifting his own and taking a long swallow. My gaze drops to his throat and the way his muscles constrict.
Something like that shouldn’t be so sexy.
But I’ll be damned if it’s not.
I force my gaze away before he notices my reaction.
“Let’s head to the table,” he says, his deep voice startling me from my thoughts.
When his arm slips around my waist, I turn and collide with his chest. I tip my face up only to find him staring down at me. He’s close enough for his breath to drift over my lips. That’s all it takes for his nearness to scatter my thoughts, making it impossible to think straight.