Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 49239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 246(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
“What am I going to be doing today?”
“Helping out with practice. Handing out water bottles when people need them, bringing us towels, that kind of thing.”
We have two interns who already do that, but I arranged for them to get today off so Zane could do it. I think seeing guys doing guy things will be good for the kid.
As soon as we walk into the locker room, I start to question myself, though.
“Hey, this is Zane,” I tell our team captain, Ford, who’s standing alone.
“Hey, man,” Ford says, nodding at Zane.
“Dude, ask Rowan why he’s sitting out today,” Beau calls when he sees me.
I glance over at the bench and see my teammate Rowan sitting there, dressed in regular clothes and looking dejected.
“It’s not funny,” he says.
“It’s the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Colby says.
Rowan’s one of my closest friends on the team. If something’s going on with him, I can’t believe I don’t already know about it.
“What’s up?” I ask him.
“I have an injury, but I’ll be fine for the next road trip. It’s not a big deal.”
“His beanbag took a beating,” Beau says, amused. “And it wasn’t him beating it, for once.”
When I look at Rowan, he shakes his head. “I should have just lied about it.”
“What happened?” I ask as I put my phone and keys in my locker.
When Rowan hesitates, our teammate Ben jumps in, grinning. “He was a bad boy and his mistress punished him.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Rowan scowls. “A woman got too rough in bed and now my nut sac is bruised. That’s it.”
I stare at him in disbelief for a second before laughing. “Are you serious? You’re sitting out practice because you have a bruised nut sac?”
Our teammate Marcus gives him a disgusted look. “I ruptured one of my balls during a game in high school and kept playing. There was blood everywhere when I got undressed after.”
Rowan stands up. “Yeah, if it was a game, I’d still play. It’s a Saturday practice. This hurts like a motherfucker, you guys.”
“Take a Midol and quit bitching,” Ford says.
Beau approaches Zane and holds his hand out. “Hey, I’m Beau Fox. Nice to meet you.”
“Hey, I’m Zane.”
The others finally notice Zane and introduce themselves. I assign him to fold towels so he’s not just standing there while we all dress and shoot the shit.
Once we’re on the ice practicing, I keep an eye on Zane, who’s sitting on the bench with our trainer. They’re talking, which seems like a good sign.
He’s got his mom’s dark hair. I haven’t been able to stop picturing her since the last time I saw her a few days ago. When I asked her out, her voice said no but her expression was saying yes. I can’t figure it out.
There’s most definitely a spark between us. I saw the way her lips parted just slightly when she took hold of my arms while we were ice-skating and the way she blushed when she slipped and I caught her.
I didn’t plan to ask her out; it just happened. I was planning to keep things platonic because the last thing I’d ever want is to mislead or hurt a single mom. Something unexpected happened when we were ice-skating that day, though.
I truly wanted to just take her out on a date. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind. As I watched her talk and laugh, all I could think about was spending several hours doing that. I wanted to sit across from her at a restaurant and listen to her tell me everything about...anything. It doesn’t matter what Tess talks about; I’m always fascinated.
Does she even know how beautiful and interesting she is? She could have any man she wanted eating out of her hand. Not that any man would deserve her.
Hell, I don’t deserve her. But I still want to be around her. Get to know her better. I’ve never been just friends with a beautiful woman, but if that’s all she’ll give me, I’ll take it.
I finish a shooting drill and skate over to the bench for a water break. Zane passes out bottles to those who want them.
“Hit me,” our goalie, Sal, says, opening his mouth.
“He doesn’t want to take his gear off,” I explain. “Hold it up and squirt it into his mouth.”
Zane lifts up the cap on the bottle and tries to squirt it into Sal’s mouth, but he hits him in the eye instead.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s all good, man.”
“You play hockey?” Ford asks Zane.
Zane’s eyes widen. “No.”
“We’ll show you how to shoot pucks after practice. Rookies get a hundred bucks if they can hit Sally in the nads.”
Sal gives Zane a wry smile. “Goalies are always the most picked on because everyone’s jealous of us.”
The rest of us laugh and shake our heads. Zane is almost smiling. It’s the first time since the day my car broke down that he’s looked anything but pissed off around me.