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)
Asher gives me an approving look. “Nice, man.”
Max just shrugs. “Even a broken clock gets lucky once in a while.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Dude. The saying is even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
“That too,” he says as the slap of sneakers in the hallway grows louder. A teddy bear of a hockey player fills the doorframe.
“Give it up for Daddy Winters,” Hugo calls out, then strides into the weight room, wielding his phone like it’s Simba. He brings it to us and we crowd around it. There’s a picture splashed across it. It’s our team captain, Christian Winters, looking overjoyed as he holds two of the tiniest people I’ve ever seen.
“Holy shit,” I say, smiling at the sight of one very happy new dad. That’s why he’s not here.
“He has two little boys. Looks like we’ve got some Sea Pups,” Hugo says, and he’s the softie of the bunch. Probably because he’s already a dad. He and his wife have a little daughter.
“We need to get them skates, stat,” I say.
“And helmets,” Hugo adds.
“And sticks,” Max puts in.
“The pucks are on me,” Asher adds.
Hugo lowers his phone. “And he said he deputized me to handle any problems. So, guess I’m acting team captain.” He puffs out his chest. Power-hungry teddy bear. Which means we need to give him hell.
Asher must feel the same way since he shoots him a doubtful look. “Shouldn’t Weston be the acting captain?” Asher asks.
Weston is Chase Weston, a center and the former captain who stepped down right before I joined the team. He’d been captain for a few years though, earning mad respect from the guys for his calm, focused, and outgoing style. But he’d said he wanted to spend more time with his wife and their dogs. Which I get. If I had dogs, I’d spend as much time with them as I could too. But it’s hard when you’re on the road to have a pet.
“Dude, Weston said Nacho had an agility tournament. He said it like an hour ago when we left the ice,” Hugo says to Asher, shaking his head.
I can see the play before the puck even comes my way. I lunge for it, clapping Asher’s shoulder as I say, “Remember? Weston said he was taking off for the tournament, but that Winters had planned to take us all to dinner tonight. To our favorite hot pot place.”
Asher’s eyes twinkle. “Right. That was it.”
Max strides over, then in his deep voice adds, “The one in Japantown.”
What a beautiful, clever bastard. That’s the priciest hot pot.
“For team morale before our game,” I add with my nice guy smile.
Asher flashes Hugo a satisfied grin. “He told us to round up the other guys.”
My brow pinches, like I’m momentarily confused as I ask, “So that would mean dinner’s on you, right Huey?”
Hugo snaps his fingers. “Dammit.”
When I leave that afternoon, I check my phone on the way to the players’ lot. There’s a message from my sister.
Natalie: Dude, you’re in trouble. I heard you didn’t get any artwork. How could you refuse the chance to decorate your walls with a skeleton horse?
Ah, hell. I’d nearly blocked that art gallery out of my head. I’d also gone almost a whole day without thinking about my dad. But I’m back to my meal plan, my workout routine, and everything else. Which means I’d better order mushroom broth, veggies, and lean chicken tonight at hot pot. But really, I can’t complain.
Wesley: What’s even more mind-boggling is that he told you.
Natalie: I was caught in the crossfire when he called me today about his trip here at the end of the week when the season starts. Anyway, I think Frieda was devastated that you didn’t buy something from her gallery, so she gave Dad an earful, and Dad gave me an earful. But enough about them. WHO IS THE WOMAN IN THE T-SHIRT?
Wesley: Shit. She told you?
Natalie: Well, she told Dad. And Dad told me. And now he wants to know who you’re dating.
I groan as I click on my seat belt. Of course he’d try to get it out of Natalie first. He’s not a shrewd guy for nothing. Natalie loves all things romance, so…
Wesley: Is he asking to see if he thinks she’ll be a distraction or an asset?
Natalie: Well, it is Dad. But this is me, and I want to know because I love you. Details!
Wesley: There’s not much to tell, Natalie.
Natalie: Liar.
Wesley: I swear. We’re not dating.
Natalie: Really? Frieda made it seem like you guys were together.
Shit. There is that issue to contend with now. The I lied to Dad’s girlfriend issue. But maybe it won’t be such a lie soon enough.
Wesley: I’ll explain it next time I see you. But trust me, we’re not dating. I gotta go.
She says goodbye, and I set the phone down, then pull out of the lot while mentally revising that last statement. We’re not dating yet. When I get home, I flop down on the couch, fire up my laptop, and pay my parking citations. Happily.