Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Asher calls out to him, “Dude, Lambert is happy. You know what that means?”
I groan, shaking my head. Asher is a relentless shit-stirrer. He’s also unfairly emotionally astute, so I’ve got to be on my guard. For Everly’s sake, especially.
Wesley looks from me to Asher, as if he’s assessing us. “The aliens took him yesterday, so we need a new goalie for the game?”
“Exactly,” Asher says, then claps my shoulder. “Or dude got laid last night.”
I won’t give him the satisfaction of a response. “Did you see the Cougars picked up Martinez after all? Dude wasn’t a free agent for long,” I say, dangling baseball trade talk to distract him, like he’s Athena and I’m waving a fake bird toy in front of him. Maybe he won’t put two and two together about my good mood. Don’t need the scrutiny right now.
Asher shoots me a smug smile. “So I was right,” he says, and dammit. He is smarter than a cat.
“Pretty sure you said you thought they’d lock him up,” I say, trying again since my poker face is tight.
Asher cocks his brow at me. “Nice try, Lambert.”
We head inside and down the corridor. Miles is a few paces ahead of us, so that’s as good a distraction as any. “Hey, Falcon,” I call out to the center.
He turns around, tips his chin toward us. “What’s up?”
“Question for you.”
“Sure.”
I scratch my jaw. “Do you know anyone who babysits?”
Miles furrows his brow. “Um, no. Is it for your nephew?”
I scoff, then point my thumb toward Asher, then Wesley. “No, it’s for these clowns.”
Miles waggles a brow, smiling, getting it now. “Speaking of clowns, I hear you’re going to join the circus when you’re done with hockey. Let me know where you wind up because I will heckle the fuck out of that.”
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Why are you guys looking at my social media?”
“Everyone needs a good laugh now and then,” Wesley says as we head into the locker room.
Hugo’s here, tugging on his jersey. Christian, the captain, is lacing up his skates.
When Miles reaches his stall, he looks back at me, tilting his head. “Looks like you had fun at the naked ride. But why didn’t you do the ride?” He asks it innocently, like he’s been educating himself at the Wesley and Asher School of Giving Me Hell. “Were you afraid of scaring everyone with your attire?”
I look to the ceiling in frustration, tossing up my hands. “Why are you all my teammates?”
“You’re just that lucky, man,” Hugo calls out.
“And don’t you forget it,” Christian chimes in.
“As if I could,” I say, then I grab my shoulder pads from the stall.
As I’m heading to practice ten minutes later with Asher, my gaze drifts up to the management levels. I picture Everly in her office.
A dirty grin returns to my face.
As we reach the gate at the ice, Asher points to me with a busted grin on his face. “Yup. It’s working. You’ve been made over into…a new man, and I know why,” he says, his gaze drifting pointedly to the management levels before he takes off and flies down the ice away from me.
I try my best to flip him the bird, but it’s fuck-all hard with gloves on.
Still, I really need to get my game face on, especially since nothing can happen with Everly again.
It really, really can’t, no matter how much I’m thinking about her and the delivery coming her way today.
22
A THIEF AND A PIRATE
Everly
“He’s a panty thief!” Josie issues that declaration with a slap of the table at the diner.
I’m at lunch with my friends after the hottest night of my life. I’ve told them nearly everything. I only feel slightly bad for divulging all the details of our one-time-only tryst, but they’ve been sworn to vault-levels of secrecy. And honestly, I couldn’t not tell them.
“I never expected that. They were just…gone when I looked all over for them,” I say, a little thrilled all over again as I recall the discovery of his theft. “Like stolen treasure or something.”
Maeve arches a brow. “It kind of makes him…a sex pirate.”
I laugh. “Evidently.”
“Max is sort of swashbuckling,” Fable says thoughtfully, then asks, “and did he admit to taking them?”
“Yes,” I say, still incredulous over Max’s matter-of-fact reaction via text this morning. “He was unapologetic.”
Maeve stabs a forkful of salad but doesn’t bring it to her mouth. “The man wants what he wants. That’s impressive.”
“Is it though? I mean, what did he do with them?” I ask, then take a bite of my lunch.
But as I’m chewing on the portobello mushroom sandwich, three pairs of eyes from around the table stare wide-eyed at me.
“Is that a real question?” Josie asks.
I set down the sandwich. “What do you mean?”
Maeve snorts, then arches a knowing brow. “I think we all know what he did with them.” She finally takes that bite.