Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“What’s up with you? You never come over anymore and I can’t figure out why. Is it because of Indie?”
His girlfriend, Indie, and her son, Nolan, recently moved in with Pike and I think the absolute world of them. My reason for being scarce at pool parties these days has nothing to do with them.
“No, man. Indie’s great and you know I love Nolan. I’m just busy.”
“Bullshit. What are you doing tonight that’s better than hanging out with me?”
Absently, I scratch the scruff on my jaw. What can I say I’m doing tonight? Cleaning my house? No, I have help with that. Going out? He’d ask who I’m going with, and since I usually only go out with teammates, that’s not a solid alibi since they’re all in the room right now and he’s likely to ask whoever I say I’m going out with to come to the pool party, too.
“You’re literally trying to think of an excuse right now,” he says, exasperated. “I can tell. Why don’t you just tell me what the deal is?”
If I told him, he’d punch me in the face on the spot. Well, he’d try to, anyway. And I wouldn’t blame him. I’m on the verge of telling him I don’t like swimming anymore, which is a total lie, when our team captain Maverick Hagen walks into the locker room and I get a reprieve.
“Guys, we’re going to hang out in here for a few extra minutes before we hit the ice today. Coach Bear has someone he wants to introduce us to.”
Pike and I exchange a look. It has to be a new team member, and if Coach is taking the time to talk him up and introduce him, then it must be a key player. Usually new guys just show up on their own.
Shit. We’ve been running like a well-oiled machine. Our offensive and defensive lines are in sync. We’re on the verge of starting a new season, and now is not the time to shake things up.
I study Maverick’s expression, trying to get a clue as to how bad he thinks this is. I can’t get a read on him, though.
We sit in relative silence until our backup goalie Dom looks up from the crossword puzzle he’s doing.
“What’s a…nine-letter word for promised in marriage?” he asks the room. “It should be engaged, but that’s only seven letters.”
Dude sucks at crossword puzzles, but he still does them during any downtime in the locker room and on road trips. At least half of the guys sitting around the locker room look at me, because I’m always the one to offer up the answer.
“Betrothed,” I say.
He scrunches his face in confusion. “You sure?”
“Yep.”
“How do you spell that?”
Coach Bear walks into the locker room then, and everyone falls silent, Dom’s crossword puzzle forgotten. A man with salt-and-pepper hair and a blonde who looks like she’s in her twenties follow behind him.
That dude is definitely not our new teammate, and neither is the woman. There are talented female hockey players out there, but none of them have fake double D tits. A flying puck to one of those breast implants would end it.
Now I’m even more intrigued about why these two are in our locker room. If we aren’t getting a new player, what the hell is going on?
“Boys, I’ve got good news,” Coach says, his facial expression not matching his upbeat tone.
When his brows are scrunched together like that, it means he’s either pissed off or stressed out. No matter what comes out of his mouth, I know this news is not good.
“I’d like you to meet Alexander Croft,” he says, gesturing to the middle-aged man standing next to him. “As of an hour ago, he’s our team’s new owner.”
What the fuck? For a couple of long seconds, you could hear a pin drop in the locker room. There hasn’t been a hint of a rumor about the team being sold. I sneak a glance at Maverick, who still isn’t giving anything away with his expression.
“Hello, everyone,” Alexander Croft says. “As a big fan of both hockey and Las Vegas, I’m thrilled with the acquisition of this team. I plan to be a lot more hands-on than the previous owner, starting with having an office here at the arena. And I’d also like to introduce the team’s new director of marketing—my daughter, Cassidy.”
Cassidy steps forward, smiling as she scans the room.
“I’m really excited to be working with you guys,” she says, her roving eyes stopping on me. “We’re going to have a blast.”
Why is she looking at me like that? And what about our actual marketing director, Miranda? She just got promoted. Now it sounds like she’ll either be demoted or out of a job so the new owner’s daughter can “have a blast.”
Cassidy’s greeting is met with the same silence as her father’s introduction. No one makes it to this level in hockey without putting in years of hard work. There are no shortcuts. So naturally, we’re not fans of people who bypass the work and still reap the rewards.