Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
His cocky smile widens. “Got it. Temporary insanity. So none of it was true, and you actually hate my new tux?”
“No!” My mouth flops open, and then I clamp it shut again. “That’s not…”
He grins.
I let out a growl of outrage. “Now you’re teasing me? Really?”
“Too soon?” he asks with a wide smile.
“Definitely,” I hiss. “We’re never joking about this. Or mentioning it to anyone. Ever.” God. If Mr. Sharp thinks I’m spending my time sexting his players, I’ll lose my job.
His expression softens. “Aw, Darcy. Don’t take it so hard. I’ve forgotten about it already, okay? We’ve got bigger problems to solve.”
“I know,” I say quickly, my shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Like winning game seven.” This is familiar territory. I’m good at my job, and I’m invested in the team’s success, like a good little admin.
“There you go,” he says. “We obviously need to focus on the greater goal. And just think—if we advance to the final round, we’re headed to Colorado.”
“Yes, sir,” I say breathily.
He freezes. Then he rubs a hand over his face. “And you realize—if we’re in Colorado, we won’t even have to go to that stupid wedding shower. What the hell is a dance-off? I’d rather die.”
I blink. “Wait,” I say slowly. “Are you talking about the Fletcher-Randolph wedding?”
“Of course.” He shrugs his big shoulders. “Why do you think I bothered to fit a new tux during the playoffs? I have to go to the wedding, too. How do you know Maribel?”
I drag oxygen into my lungs. “The, uh, bride? We’ve never met. I just…” I shake off my surprise. “I’m related to the groom.”
“Oh? How?”
“He’s, um, my brother.”
It’s Eric’s turn to blink. “Wait, what? I heard Theo has a twin sister. That’s you?”
Slowly, I shake my head. “I’m the other sister, the one nobody mentions. My family is, um, messy.”
His expression darkens. “So many of them are, I guess.”
“Right?” I let out a nervous laugh. “And weddings only make things weirder.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Isn’t that the truth.”
“So, how do you know Maribel?”
“She’s an old family friend. She came to the game last night, actually. I gave her and Theo my comp tickets.”
I can’t help it. My mouth falls open. “My brother came to our game in New York? I didn’t even know he liked hockey.”
“Well, yeah.” Eric rubs the back of his neck, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “No text from your bro when he’s in town, huh?”
I feel myself redden, because our family is just the weirdest. “He probably forgot he has my number. We didn’t grow up together.” That’s an understatement.
“Oh.” He looks befuddled, and I don’t blame him. “Didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”
“You didn’t, I promise. You know what is a sore subject, though? A dance competition at a wedding shower.”
He grins. “I know, right? I’m going to have to give Maribel a hard time about that.”
“See that you do. And please win game seven tomorrow. There’s a lot riding on it. Career goals. Sponsorships. And the opportunity to skip a party where everyone is expected to perform onstage.”
“Message received.” He gives me a conspiratorial smile, and I feel my heart lift. And just for a second, everything is fine. Everything is back to normal.
But then I hold his gaze a little too long, because I’m too tired to exercise self-control. And he’s just so pretty. Suddenly, I’m all too aware that we’re standing a few feet away from each other and from a hotel bed.
He must be psychic, too, because he quickly clears his throat and points at the plate he brought me. “I’d better go so you can eat that.”
“Right,” I say hastily. “Yes, Captain.”
His eyes flare, but I’m not sure why. Maybe because he’s realized that I don’t have full control of my impulses, and he’d better flee before I embarrass us both. Again.
He heads for the door, but then pauses with his hand on the knob and turns to look at me again. “Look, I’ll make a deal with you. If I can’t figure out how to win that game tomorrow, and we find ourselves at the same damn party next weekend, we’ll form a pact of mutual self-destruction.”
I only hesitate for a second. “You mean—the dance-off?”
He nods. “We’ll brave it together. As partners.”
“You’re on,” I chuckle. “Now go win game seven for the people of New York.”
With one more panty-melting smile, he turns and leaves.
Chapter 5
It’s Tito’s!
Eric
Is your shoulder okay?” My mother frets. “On a scale of one to ten, how’s the pain?”
I stare up at the cloudless sky above the Florida stadium and hold back a sigh. “My pain is only a one and a half, Ma. I’m good.” And I’d be even better if I could get off this call. That goes unsaid, though, because my mother has a lot of anxiety, and these daily phone calls are the only thing that keeps her feeling steady.