Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Tanner doesn’t hesitate to cockily grin. “Good thing I’m not just anybody then.”
Bear mumbles woofs in agreement causing me to twitch a glare.
Still.
I still don’t need his lip.
“You’re about to be a very chewed somebody if you don’t quickly explain why you’re here at my front door ordering sides like you’re at a drive through window.”
His hands casually slide into his sweatpants pockets. “I’m here for a post-game celly.”
Irritation over the idea he thinks I’m gonna give him some sort of victory mouth hug fuses with irateness regarding the puck bunny label he’s mistakenly branded on my ass prompting me to coldly chomp, “What?”
“Walk. Wings. Wrath of the Titans.”
My shoulders instantly slump towards the ground on a softer, “What?”
“We’ll walk Bear – I know he needs one last outing for the night – order wings from Wing Warriors – they have a new bourbon flavor I’m dying to try – and see how far we can get through Wrath of the Titans – although I am open to other film considerations. It is – admittedly – not one of my favorites.”
“But…Greek Myths.”
“Greek Gossip Girl.”
Yet again, it’s impossible not to giggle. “This from the stud that spent twenty-two minutes correcting everything STN ‘misreported’ about training camps?”
“That was not gossip,” Tanner argues, obviously trying not to grin. “That was simply me fact-checking.”
An amused eyebrow lift is all he’s given.
Yeah, not so sure learning who was fighting off the clap was a crucial part of injuries that needed to be discussed; however, I will admit, I’m even more unwilling to hook up with players considering the eyebrow raising amount of STDs they’ve apparently got in their stats.
“Shouldn’t you…be…like…cellying with the boys?”
“I’m right where I wanna be, Ducky,” informs Tanner without missing a beat.
“Stop calling me that,” I hiss on a gentle push forward, needing him to back up towards the grass.
“You like it.”
“I despise it.”
“You adore it.”
“I barely tolerate it.” The door clicks closed behind us. “A lot like you.”
“You’re so full of shite,” chuckles the white t-shirt wearing male across from me. “And you know it.”
Bear immediately woofs in agreement prompting me to point a stern finger at him. “Don’t forget who feeds you, bud.”
“Pretty sure that was me on Tuesday because someone wanted seconds of their honey garlic chicken and cauliflower rice but didn’t wanna get up.”
“Your fault.”
“How is that my fault?!”
“For making magic in your cauldron.”
“Crockpot.” He tosses me another smug smirk. “Although noted that you think I’m magical.” Tanner bounces his eyebrows at me. “Perhaps magically delicious.”
“I would happily kick your ass off a rainbow.”
New rounds of laughter flood the night air during our descent down my driveway, yet upon our arrival at the end, near the trunk of his car, he reaches for the leash. “Let me hold it.”
Veering to the left is attached to me asking, “Why?”
“You hold mine. I hold his. It’s only fair.”
Giggles can’t be stopped, and neither can the transferring of the object.
Not that I want either to be stopped.
I…begrudgingly admit…I love how much he makes me smile.
And laugh.
And giggle like the schoolgirl I barely got to be.
I also really like that he seems to get Bear isn’t just any pet.
He’s the type you need the approval of if you’re planning to be around for the long haul.
Which he claims to be.
Too bad I’m not totally convinced this isn’t all some season-length strategy to simply get me into the sack.
Then again…I’m not…not convinced.
According to my mom if a man cooks for you, cleans up your dirty tissues when you’re sick, and picks up your dog’s shit, you might as well be expecting a marriage proposal sooner rather than later.
Except I don’t date hockey players.
Especially not ones accused of crashing some sorority girl’s twenty first birthday party when he was really just picking us up hot wings.
The somewhat prompted reminder pushes me to investigate his unpredicted presence. “Should you really be doing more cardio right now?”
“Yeah, I do not think walking Bear qualifies as cardio.”
On cue, my best fur-having friend shoots a scowl over his shoulder.
“That was not a challenge, mate.” Snickers swing back and forth between us. “No need to square off.” Bear whips his head forward leaving us to our conversation. “This is like stretching.” Our eyes find one another’s. “Which we all know is quite important especially after a game like tonight.” Joy rapidly rips through his gaze. “Can you believe we had a fucking shutout on our first home game?” Tanner doesn’t wait for a response. “Groffee is such a fucking beauty.”
“And you’re not?” I mindlessly chime back on a light elbow. “You almost had a hattie on game one.”
“I got lucky.”
“You got crafty.” Guiding us towards the trail that runs around the neighborhood creek smoothly occurs. “I haven’t seen a knee to ass to spread eagle bardownskie…probably…ever.”
“That sounds like a sex act.”