Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
The edge in his voice makes me want to march over to Marla’s place and give her a piece of my mind. “What really hurts is that you wanted to believe in her,” I say.
When Ledger looks up, there’s vulnerability in his blue eyes. “I did,” he says, then he’s quiet for several seconds. “But I’m fine,” Ledger says, resigned perhaps to his romance fate. “I haven’t had the best of luck with relationships. But that’s the past. I’m over it. The point is…”
He runs out of steam, then laughs, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t fucking know what the point is.”
That must be Dev’s cue to jump back in. “The point is—relationships are hard, people get hurt, and thank fuck for hockey.”
In one sentence, that tells me multitudes about Dev. Despite his sunny attitude, he’s got his own baggage, too, and hockey is his salve. I don’t know much about Eva, his last girlfriend, except that he was involved with her at the start of the last season, maybe even the one before. Part of me wants to give him the space to offer up that story on his own, but I’ve learned in the last few years of running my booth at the salon that people often want to talk but few want to go first. Few want to “inconvenience” others with their emotions. Most of us want to be asked so we can either decline or open up.
“Did hockey get you through your breakup?” I ask him.
Dev seems to give it some thought, but the answer must come easily since he’s nodding sagely. “Yeah, it did. Especially since I thought everything was going well. But then, bam. It wasn’t and I just mainlined hockey after that.”
“She ambushed you, man,” Ledger says, his jaw ticking.
“And can you believe it, she did it right before Christmas too. Which is my second-favorite holiday.”
“What’s your first favorite holiday?” I hope he doesn’t say April Fool’s Day.
“National Grilled Cheese Day,” Dev says, eyes glinting like a cartoon character lusting after a leg of turkey. Yup, he’s back to light-hearted. “Whoever invented that deserves a prize.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say as I stay in this light zone with him, since that’s clearly where he wants to be. “But do you even eat cheese? Maybe, since it’s not a carb. But I’m doubtful.”
Dev scoffs. “I like cheese.”
“But do you eat it?” Ledger presses.
“Sometimes,” Dev mumbles. “Like on National Grilled Cheese Day, and when the team captain takes us out for pizza. So there.”
I give an obvious glance to Ledger, pointing my thumb at Dev. “We should take him out for National Grilled Cheese Day. Let’s pretend it’s sometime this week.”
Ledger’s grin is devilish. “I’m in. You in, Ryland?”
Dev stretches his neck back and forth, like he’s hemming and hawing and mulling it over. “Fine, we’ll have grilled cheese as part of our Ambushed by Exes club.”
“It’s a plan,” I say, and I leave the relationship talk at that, not pushing into how he’s doing now. But the door’s been opened at least.
We settle into a comfortable silence, and I glance around the small restaurant. There are only a dozen or so tables at The Green Pantry, and we’re pretty much closing the place down. A couple at a table in the corner is paying their bill. He touches her arm as he signs the check, and she angles closer to him, a soft smile on her lips. There’s a sensual energy between them, so I look away quickly.
Soon, we’ll have to deal with the honeymoon bed. “This place was good,” I say, delaying the inevitable. “Did you guys like it?”
Ledger eyes his empty plate. Then Dev’s. “Was it not clear that we liked it?”
“Finishing isn’t the same as liking something,” I say.
Ledger’s blue eyes sparkle. His lips curve into a slow grin. “Might have to disagree with you there, honey,” he says, his voice shifting to a bedroom husk.
Dev picks up the baton of the conversation, his raspy tone hitting the same sexy, innuendo-laden notes. “I definitely like finishing.”
I shake my head as heat tinges my cheeks. But I glance at my plate, where several forkfuls of my dish remain. “I didn’t finish, but I liked it. A lot.”
Dev keeps his gaze locked on me, his green eyes bright with dirty delight. “Things you wouldn’t say with us,” he says.
Us.
That word clangs, rekindling my desires. Would they share me? Are they trying not to think of me as much as I’m trying not to think of them?
I shouldn’t, but I search their eyes for answers—first Dev’s, whose gaze glimmers my way, then Ledger’s. His blue eyes don’t stray from me, either, and neither man seems bothered that the other is checking me out.
My mind floods with a fresh wave of images. Hungry kisses, curious hands, questing mouths determined to make me finish, maybe many, many times.