Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“How do you not have a car?”
“I don’t need one. Not right now, anyway. Besides, I’ve got my eyes set on a camper van.”
Jaxson opened his mouth to respond, but then ran over when he saw me trying unsuccessfully to heave my suitcase into the luxury SUV. He nudged me out of the way to do it himself, and then grunted as he tossed the behemoth into the back.
“Good God, woman. What do you have in there?”
“Basically everything I own,” I admitted. “I’m in a nomadic state of mind, just going where the wind blows me.”
I hoped I made it sound cool that I didn’t have a home, like that was what I wanted, like it was a choice I made. Look at me! A wild child living by each passing moment, never knowing what will happen next. The truth rested more in the fact that I didn’t know where the hell I wanted to be.
I’d graduated from college at Michigan in May, a task I completed only because my parents made me. I hadn’t wanted to go for multiple reasons, starting with the fact that I wasn’t exactly academically motivated, and ending with the bold-print bullet point that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life at the ripe old age of eighteen.
I didn’t understand why that was shocking to the world, but it was, and my parents had taken their eyes off Vince just long enough to tell me that if I wanted my trust fund, I had to go to college and get a degree.
So, I picked something random with the least amount required of me and ticked that off the list.
I was now the not-very-proud owner of a Bachelor of Arts degree in Philosophy.
As much as I was a little shit about it, I was very thankful for my parents, for that fund they’d put back for me. It wasn’t enough where I didn’t have to work, but it was enough to give me time to figure out where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. Most people my age didn’t have the same luxury.
How the hell we lived in a country that expected us to choose what we wanted to do for the rest of our lives before we were even legally old enough to have an alcoholic beverage was beyond me.
I’d never wanted to do the life society seemed so intent to push me into. I didn’t care about college or getting some fancy, high-paying job that would allow me to live the same life my parents and Vince did. I didn’t desire a corner office with a gold plaque on the wall with my name on it.
I wanted adventure.
I wanted limitless options, zero boundaries, and the freedom to make the most of every day I had on this Earth.
Of course, I still needed money to survive. So, going to college in order to secure at least a few years of stability? Worth it.
Jaxson eyed my bag with an arched brow before shaking his head and saying, “Alright, here’s the plan.”
He launched into our options for the road trip, which obviously started by heading north. I knew from experience it would take us hours just to get out of Florida. He then explained that we could turn around once we hit the Midwest, or keep going — as long as we were back here by August first for some training he had arranged with some of the other players on the team.
His eyes caught mine briefly then, like he wondered how long this road trip was going to be.
I didn’t give him any hints.
It was fun to watch him squirm.
I also only half-listened to him, mostly because I was taking in the way he looked as he leaned against his car and prattled on.
He was dressed for a road trip, and yet somehow looked fashionable — the way only an NHL veteran with more money than God could. He wore a relaxed pair of cream-colored Nike shorts, crew cut socks and white sneakers, along with a black long-sleeve Tampa Bay Ospreys shirt that he’d bunched up at his forearms. Those forearms were thick and roped with muscle, and I found my eyes trailing the ink on the right one again. His left wrist sported a Rolex watch that fit him perfectly. It was a flex, and yet he somehow made it seem so casual.
And I had another kink unlocked, apparently, because the way that watch hugged his wrist had me salivating.
I had my answer from how I’d wondered if he had more tattoos to hide, too, because his left calf, shin, and knee sported an impressive sleeve of what looked like mechanical gears. It was like he was a robotic man, and the skin had been peeled back in various places to reveal the machinery operating beneath.