Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
He laughs. “Well, I, for one, am glad you are back on the ice,” he says. “How’s Ari?”
“She’s good. She’s getting so big,” I say, my heart filling with pride. “I also am going to need to get in for some target practicing.”
“I saw the picture you put up last month,” he says, laughing. “She’s going to be a stunner.”
“I’m afraid of that,” I say. “She looks like Cassie.”
“She has some of you,” he says. “I saw her scowl at you once.”
I laugh. “She also has zero patience. Totally me.”
“Well, I was calling to invite you over for a barbecue. I’m inviting the whole team and whoever is still is town, and I’m not taking no for an answer,” he says of the players who usually go back to their hometowns when the season is over. “So far, we are a good ten plus their guests.”
“Sure,” I say, not even thinking about it. “That sounds like fun. When?”
“This weekend,” he says. “I’ll see you then.”
“Looking forward to it,” I say and hang up the phone seeing that I got a text while I was on the phone. I open it up and see it’s from Justin.
Justin: Hey, sorry I just got your message. I just sent you her contact information.
It was great seeing you! Also, your daughter is stunning.
I smile at that last sentence and then see he shared a contact with me. I answer him back.
Me: Great seeing you, too. Let me know when you’re in town again.
I press send and then delete the message thread along with her number. There is no way she is going to work with me after this morning’s debacle. I rub my face and try not to think about how massively of an asshole I was. I suddenly feel like just sending her an I’m sorry for being a dick message, but I deleted her number.
“It’s better this way,” I say aloud to just myself. “Besides, how can you work with someone you can’t even talk to? Plus, she wants the white picket fence, and you can’t even think about giving her that.” I’m about to tell myself that I’m an idiot when I hear Ari wail out. Tossing my phone on the couch, I stand and head to get my girl, putting Candace Richards out of my head. Or at least in the back of my head and only letting her out when I’m in the shower or falling asleep, or even when I look around my house and hate everything I see.
Everything is back to normal the next day when Miranda shows up to watch Ari. I go train on the ice and then go home where I take her into the home gym so she can watch me while I train, or until she gets fed up and starts fussing. Whatever comes first. When she sleeps, I hit the gym again. I’m just winding down my run when my phone rings. I’m not going to lie; I keep hoping it’s going to be someone I’m not supposed to be thinking about. I look at the phone and see it’s Becca.
“This must be a record,” I say, stopping the treadmill and grabbing the towel and water bottle. I sit on the weight bench to catch my breath while I wipe the sweat from my face. “Twice in one day.”
“Twice in one day so I can light a fire under your ass,” she huffs out. “You were supposed to call me back,” she reminds me.
“Call you back if I had an answer,” I remind her. “I don’t.”
“Listen, I’m going to be frank with you,” she says, and I roll my eyes at her.
“When are you not frank with me?” I ask, and she groans.
“You want to get a shot with the big sponsors, then you have to step up your game. I told you this. You need to give me an answer, or I’m not even going to bother trying to help you.”
“An answer to what?” I say, frustrated with myself and the situation. “I don’t have an answer, and you know that. Can you get me a list of names and I’ll call them?”
“I got you a list,” she says. “I emailed you this morning. Did you not check your email?”
“I do,” I say. “I just do it at night.”
“You’re killing me, smalls,” she says, and I laugh. “Look at the list and get back to me. I’ll call them for you.”
“See, now that is a plan,” I say, taking a sip of water.
“Well, if I had to be in charge of the plan, I would call Candace and beg her, but . . .” She stops talking when I groan.
“Fine,” I say. “I have the barbecue tomorrow at Nico’s, but after that, I’ll get in touch with Candace and see if she will take me on as a client.”