Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Still, she was a striking little brat, and something about the way she razzed me made me want to bend her over my knee and spank an apology right out of her sweet ass.
Maybe she was right. Maybe it was because I was used to being fawned over, to every woman I came into contact with swooning into a puddle on the floor. Or maybe it was because a knockout in a yellow dress tilting her chin up at me in defiance made my chest spark with a challenge.
And I loved a challenge.
Whatever the reason, I hadn’t forgotten about our interaction. And I was curious to know more about the golden-eyed girl who’d called me a prick.
“Does it make me a masochist that I pray for a puck to the teeth every game just so I can be on a table underneath that woman?”
I chuckled at the comment from Carter as he skated by, his eyes on Livia, and he waggled his brows at me before hopping the boards.
“Looking good, Dr. Young,” he said as he passed her and Coach McCabe. “Loved your dress last night.”
While Coach gave my teammate a flat look, Livia just rolled her eyes and smiled. She had to be used to it by now. You didn’t get away with being the team dentist and looking the way she did without getting comments like that daily.
“If only you hit on the puck as hard as you do our dentist, nineteen,” Coach said, clapping his shoulder and walking back to the locker room.
Livia turned to me just as I hopped over the boards, and I sidled up beside her, leaning against the glass. “You’ve got the patience of a saint.”
“It’ll be the day I stop getting hit on that I’ll be upset,” she said with a dazzling smile. “Have fun last night?”
A flash of her friend hit me again with those words, her golden eyes and freckle-covered brown skin. I wasn’t the least bit ashamed of how I’d seen that ponytail pulled tight at the back of her head and wondered what it would feel like to wrap it around my fist and take control of her like a wild bull.
I would probably be haunted by that curve-hugging yellow dress for months, and annoyed by her quick-to-pass judgement for another few after that.
“More than your sidekick, I imagine.”
“Maven?” Livia asked with a soft laugh. “Ah, her bark is worse than her bite.”
“I think I was victim to both last night,” I mused. “She’s a real piece of work.”
“That’s not her typical scene,” Livia said in way of defense.
“No shit.”
At that, Livia tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she studied me. “Interesting that you’re still thinking about her this morning.”
“Well, I haven’t been insulted so many times in a ten-minute period since rookie camp, so let’s just say she left an impression.”
Livia tongued her cheek for a moment before she straightened. “I need to get going. Got an afternoon full of patients before tonight.” She paused. “Maven King is her full name, by the way. You should look her up.”
“With all my free time,” I joked.
She just smirked and wiggled her fingers at me before disappearing down the tunnel, and I hung back for a moment before making my way inside, too.
• • •
Later that night, when I slipped inside my Maserati parked in the player lot, still high off our second home game win and far too keyed up to even think about sleep, I couldn’t help myself.
I pulled up Instagram and typed in Maven King.
Opportunity of a Lifetime
Maven
I walked into the office on Thursday with my eyes glued to my phone screen, where a dozen Instagram notifications stared back at my dumbstruck face.
I’d woken up to find that Vince fucking Tanev had followed me.
He’d also liked six of my photos.
I couldn’t wrap my head around how he’d found out my name, let alone why he would have had the balls to follow me and to not even try to hide the fact that he’d scrolled through my profile.
One of the photos he’d liked was my most recent, me and Livia in our gowns at the gala with champagne flutes tipped to our lips.
But he’d also liked one of me in my hammock that I posted last month, and one of me with my parents when we’d done beach cleanup in the spring, and one from my meditation retreat last fall.
The motherfucker had stalked me, and hadn’t even been the least bit ashamed. It was like he wanted me to know.
I was still blinking in half-confusion, half-irritation at his audacity when I swung into my office. My heels click-clacked on the marble floor, and I slung my purse over the hook on the back of my door before flopping down into my chair.
My mouth was a little dry as I clicked on his profile.