Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Well, you nailed it—your first one-night stand.”
“And you nailed me,” she says, and now I’m picturing bending her over the bed, sliding home, feeling her tighten around me. Hearing her ask for what she wanted.
“And that is on my list of things I don’t regret,” I say, since we’re being honest.
“Me too,” she says, then pauses before she turns more serious. “With the list though, I put it off so long, and then it was easier to start it when I moved here.”
“Why now?”
She sighs. Swallows. Inhales. “I missed her so much when she died. It was hard to…” She purses her lips, fighting off tears. “Move on.”
My heart aches for her. I want to wrap her in my arms and kiss her hair. “Maybe it’s not true that you’re not the bold one. Maybe you were just holding on to someone you loved.”
With a small smile of admission, she rubs her palms on her thighs, blowing out a breath. “I felt like she understood me better than anyone else. I guess that’s why I didn’t do it. Maybe also because I was getting my master’s degree and school and all that.”
“Maybe you weren’t ready. Not being ready doesn’t mean you’re not bold,” I say.
“But some of the list terrifies me. Well, not the item My O Supplier checked off.”
It takes me a few seconds before I realize what she’s done. Given me a nickname. “That’s what you call me?”
“It’s true,” she says.
“It’s seriously fucking true,” I say, wishing, wishing so damn much that I could make it true again. Even though that’d be a big mistake. I force myself to think about the rest of the list.
Then, about walking into my home a half hour ago, pouring a scotch, sitting down to chill on the couch and play a video game, and seeing it there.
Too tantalizing to look away from.
The promise of new horizons, new potential, new possibilities.
The list is like a blueprint for becoming…your happiest self. It’s a list that cries out—do me now.
Several minutes ago I was thrilled to be on it, masculine pride and all driving me on. Now, there’s a new feeling taking root inside me.
There’s a possibility that the Top Ten Things I Never Regretted would be good for both of us. Sounds, too, like that’s what she needs—a partner in taking chances.
Excited by this possibility, I sit up straighter and jump headfirst into the waters. “Can I do it with you?”
She flinches, taken aback. “You want to do it?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“I’m already part of it,” I say, and I feel connected to it. But I feel like it’s what I’ve been missing too. “But it’s also…” I stop, take a deep, fueling breath, and then say something hard. “You know what you said the other week about me being hockey, hockey, hockey?”
She winces. “Yes?”
“You’re not wrong. I am. It’s hard not to be. It’s why things didn’t work out with my ex, Anna. She said I didn’t like anything besides hockey.”
Josie shakes her head adamantly. “That’s not what I meant when I said that. I was impressed with your discipline. That’s all.”
“I know,” I say gently. “I know you didn’t mean it the same way. She wanted me to be someone I’m not—someone who discusses theoretical issues at dinner parties. Who reads long-ass articles that go on for days. Who debates philosophical issues.”
Josie shudders.
“Exactly. I don’t want to talk about some man named Immanuel Kant,” I say. “But it still made me think—I don’t always have fun outside of my job. And I’d like to. I’d like to do something that has nothing to do with hockey. Someday my life won’t be hockey, hockey, hockey.”
“That won’t happen for a while. You’re twenty-seven.”
“And yet, you never know.” I tilt my head to the side. “So, what do you say?”
For the first time since she walked into the living room tonight, her smile spreads. “You really want to do this?” she asks, not uncertain but like she wants to be one hundred percent sure I’m on board.
“I do.” Then I shrug, a little cocky, pointing to the item about making a new friend. “And anyway, I’m number one and number three, so you’d regret not doing the rest of the list with me.”
She taps her chin playfully, seeming to consider my offer, then looks back down to the paper, her eyes landing on the third thing. “So we’re friends now? The jock and the nerd?”
“We are. How’s that for our roomie rule?”
She sticks out a hand and I take it, shaking on this new friendship rule. Too bad I still want to tug her onto my lap, pull her close so she’s straddling my thighs, then hold her face, run a hand down her throat, and trace the outline of those pretty lips.
But there’s too much at stake. This living situation. The team. And now, her.