Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Uh…” She closed her red-stained lips and gaped. “Wow. Thank you. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking he deserves rent-free room in your head. He doesn’t. Or maybe he does. Call him and find out. But leave me out of it,” I griped, tilting my chin toward the building. “Where do they play hockey around here?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about hockey.”
“Ugh. You know if anyone said that in my hometown, everyone would look at them like this.” I shot an exaggerated incredulous glance her way and bit back a smile when she laughed aloud.
“Well, it could just be me. I know a little bit about football and baseball. And thanks to our surf lesson, I kind of know how to surf. How’s your new hobby coming along? Mikey says you go every day. So much for never getting on a board again,” Zoe snorted, pulling a stick of gum from the designer bag over her shoulder. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
Hmph. Mikey was one of my roommates. I’d lucked out with my living situation. Mikey and Oscar were good guys, albeit a bit chatty. I didn’t try to hide my surfing exploits, but I hadn’t thought they’d paid much attention. I was usually home from the beach before either of them woke up.
“So…how’s Cal, the hunky surfer dude?”
“What makes you think I’m seeing Cal?” I countered, peeking at my watch. My next class started in fifteen minutes. I’d made it five weeks into the school year without being late once, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Zoe gasped. “Please tell me you aren’t going surfing alone. You almost died, Luca.”
“Don’t exaggerate. It was just a bad day.”
“A very bad one. I’m glad you kept at it, though. Kind of like me with barista boy. Although I think you’ve been more successful. Do you love it?” she asked conversationally.
“I like it.”
“Just not as much as hockey, eh?”
I inhaled deeply and shook my head. “No.”
“Then you should play hockey,” Zoe replied matter-of-factly. “And before you tell me you can’t, talk to Colby Fischer.”
“Who?”
“The guy standing under the tree by the econ building. The younger one,” she clarified.
I glanced over at the good-looking burly dude talking to a muscular middle-aged man. “Who is he?”
“That’s the head coach, and Colby is one of the assistants. He played for Long Beach until he graduated.”
“I thought you didn’t follow hockey.”
“I don’t. But Colby’s boyfriend is a star baseball player who just signed with the Dodgers farm team.”
“No shit?” I studied the men more closely. Colby was an openly gay hockey coach? Interesting.
“Colby’s hot, but his boyfriend, Sky is…gah, mega dreamy. That’s beside the point. Go talk to him.” Zoe shoved my chest. “Maybe he needs help. If you want to get on the ice again, he might be a good contact. It couldn’t hurt anyway. Mwah. I’m off. Later, Luca.”
I waved after her, but my feet were already moving. I was a big fan of taking chances. And only a little pissed at myself for not thinking about this sooner.
I reached the two men just as the older one squeezed Colby’s shoulder and walked away.
“Excuse me. You’re Colby Fischer, right?”
“Yeah. Can I help you?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I can help you,” I replied with a confidence I didn’t quite feel. “I’m Luca Rossiter. I played for U of M till an injury sidelined me last season. This is a long shot, but I was wondering if you need any assistants. On a volunteer basis. Hockey’s in my blood, man. I’ve played my whole life and I know the sport inside and out. I can get you references, and I’m available to interview at any time. Can I give you my number?”
Colby lowered his Ray-Bans and fixed me with a WTF look and chuckled. “Geez, why do I feel like I just got hit by a truck?”
“More like a Lamborghini.”
“Ha. Luca the Lamborghini. That has a ring to it.” He slid his sunglasses along the bridge of his nose and cocked his head. “So you want to volunteer?”
“I do.” I launched into a mini version of the series of mishaps leading to my departure from my team and relocation in SoCal.
He rubbed his stubbled jaw thoughtfully. “Come by the rink tomorrow any time before noon. We can talk then, Lamborghini.”
Colby gave me a high five, chuckling as he headed toward the parking lot.
Me? I raced to class, my mind churning at a breakneck pace. I was a firm believer that things happened for a reason. I didn’t need a job until I graduated, but I needed a purpose of my own. I needed hockey.
Maybe this was a long shot, but I had nothing to lose.
“Nice and smooth, Luca. That’s it.”
“Got it. You know this would go faster if you let me use the electric sander,” I huffed, flexing my fingers and rolling out my wrists.