Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
At least that’s what Dax reported during practice this week. But the team is now at an away game, so I imagine he might be a little freaked. It’s her first day alone since she got out of the hospital earlier this week.
I’m on my way there now, I text.
I owe you big, buddy, he replies.
I like Regan a lot. She was a huge catalyst in pushing me toward admitting I really wanted to stay on this team. When she gave me a ride to the game last weekend, I had a good time with her. She’s easy to talk to, witty, and also doesn’t chatter up a storm.
In other words, she didn’t make me feel like I had to keep up a running conversation with her.
At the game, she got down to business as a fan and player’s wife, taking every single moment out there seriously. The girl knows the game, mostly because her late brother Lance was a professional player, too. She knows the rules, the strategies, and the players. Regan can more intelligently discuss the game on a deeper level than most people I know, so yeah… I had a great time with her.
Which all means I don’t mind running by to check on her. It’s the least I can do for not only her, but also for Dax, too. He’s been gently pushing me in a supportive way over the last several weeks. At some point, I’m going to have to tell the dude I really appreciate it.
The Uber driver stops perpendicular to the driveway. I’m confused by the two cars already parked there. If Regan has company, I’ll just do a quick peek to ensure she’s fine before reporting to Dax.
Rapping sharply on the door, I step back and wait. Mumbled voices sound faintly and the door swings open, revealing a surprised Regan.
“Hey,” she says with a bright smile. “What are you doing here?”
Remembering not to give away Dax’s request to check up on her, I shrug. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood and had time on my hands. Thought I’d say hello.”
“That’s awesome,” she replies enthusiastically. “Come in.”
The wonderful smell of vanilla and chocolate hits my nose when I cross the threshold. As Regan shuts the door, she raises her voice, sounding like she’s trying to stifle a giggle. “Look who’s here, ladies. Now it’s a real party.”
What the what?
Jerking my head toward the kitchen, I see Brooke and Pepper, both wearing aprons. Brooke has a large glass bowl supported in one arm, the other stirring something inside it.
Brooke is Bishop’s fiancée and Coach Perron’s daughter. Pepper is Legend’s fiancée. I suspect the only reason Blue—Erik’s girlfriend—isn’t here is because she’s a flight attendant on the team plane, which means she travels with them.
“We’re having a cookie-baking party,” Regan says, latching onto my arm and pulling me into the kitchen. “You can help.”
Trying to backpedal, I throw my thumb over my shoulder toward the door. “Um… actually, I have to—”
“Hey, Tacker,” Brooke chirps. The next thing I know, Pepper wraps an apron around my waist and spins me so Regan can tie it in the back.
“I-I really can’t stay,” I stutter, totally horrified I’d crashed a women’s party, which is the last place in the world I want to be.
“Sure you can.” Regan laughs, tugging me over to the counter. “You said you had time on your hands. We’re baking cookies for Pepper’s church. It’s for charity, so it’s good for your soul.”
“Plus… we get to eat cookies at the same time,” Brooke says with a grin. “Why wouldn’t you want to stay is the real question.”
Fuck. I sigh heavily… resigned to stay for ten minutes at the most, then I can report to Dax that his woman is more than fine and I’m never doing another favor for him again.
Two hours later…
“Pay attention to what you’re doing,” I order Pepper, gesturing to the dough she’s dropping onto the cookie sheet. “They’re not uniform in size.”
Regan snorts from her perch at the kitchen sink where she’s washing what seems like a never-ending supply of dirty bowls.
“Admit it,” Brooke teases from her seat at the kitchen table. Apparently, she’d gotten tired of making cookies and had popped open a bottle of wine. She’s currently on her second glass. “We’re fun to hang out with.”
Sadly, I have to admit it’s true. “Only because you ladies know hockey and other sports and didn’t discuss PMS or the Kardashians.”
Airily, Brooke waves her wineglass. “We’d already covered those subjects before you got here.”
Pepper pulls a batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven, and my stomach rolls a bit. I’ve eaten more than my fair share, and I feel like I need another workout. She puts three on a small plate, brings them to the table, and sets it in front of me.