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)
A guilty expression crosses his young face. “Bro, I don’t know… it’s just, like, you’re always checking her out, you know? Like lowkey keeping tabs and stuff? Sorry if that’s weird to say, I’m probably just talking too much ’cause of the tequila, that’s my bad. But yo, check this out—DeLuca and Larkin totally got me with this.” He holds out his key card folder where the room number has been blacked out in Sharpie.
I snicker. “Ah, the old room number trick. That’s how rookies learn. Pretty sure you’re in room 402. I saw them messing with a key folder.”
His face lights up. “Hey, thanks, Cap! You’re the real CEO here tonight.” He gives me a wave and lumbers off.
I close the door and meet Darcy in the middle of the room. She leans against my chest. “Apparently, you look at me a lot.”
“Can you blame me?” I wrap my arms around her.
“No,” she sighs. “But that better be the last interruption of the day.”
“No kidding.” I pull her into my arms. “Look—if this were a year ago, you know what I’d be doing right now?”
“Sleeping?” she yawns.
“No way. I’d either be listening to all the rookies’ troubles, like an overeager camp counselor, or I’d be lying in that bed overthinking the whole game we just played, wondering how I could have played better.”
She lifts her head up and frowns at me. “You played brilliantly.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “The point is that I didn’t have anything but hockey in my life. It wasn’t a good way to live. But that’s not me anymore. The fact that you’re on the road trip with me is super fun, but even if you weren’t, I’m not that guy anymore. I just want you to know—”
Another sharp knock interrupts me. “Calder? What now?”
“No, it’s Brooksie,” rumbles one of our D-men. “You happen to know where Darcy is? She’s not answering her phone. Or maybe you know—what time is the breakfast meeting tomorrow?”
“Eight fifteen,” I say through gritted teeth. “Check your email next time.”
“Okay, okay, sorry, Cap!”
We stand perfectly still for a long beat, giving him time to walk away, and then Darcy kisses my chin. “Do you think it’s possible that we’re not as subtle as we thought?”
“Um…” I let out a nervous chuckle. “I can do better. I can learn to keep my eyes to myself.”
“You might not be the whole problem here,” she says, running her hands up my chest. “Just a thought. You look really hot in the new workout kit. Just saying.”
Darcy leans into me, her smile so familiar that it melts all the tension in my body. There’s something about these stolen moments that makes everything else fade away. I slide my hands around her waist, and when our lips meet, everything goes back to making sense. Darcy is the only person who has the power to make me forget everything except the present moment. The soft sound she makes when I pull her closer, the fact that somehow this incredible woman wants to be here with me—
The loudest knock yet reverberates through the room. Like artillery fire, and now I’ve had it.
“Hey!” comes Sharp’s voice through the door. “You know where Darcy is? Her phone is off, and I just realized I fucked something up. I asked her to plan a lunch for November fourth, but it’s really November fifth, and if she has to do it twice, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
My entire body goes rigid, and a white-hot fury ignites in my chest. My protective impulse explodes, and before I can stop myself, I’m marching toward the door.
Chapter 46
Philadelphia Wishes
Darcy
Eric—” I gasp, but he’s already there, yanking the door open with enough force that it bangs against the wall.
“How,” he says in a voice cold enough to freeze the Hudson River, “is it appropriate for you to ask Darcy to work at this hour?”
The GM actually laughs—that infuriating, knowing laugh that makes me want to choke him. And I can’t believe this is happening right now. This is the precise scenario I’ve worked so hard to avoid.
“Gotcha!” Sharp says, sounding pleased with himself. “How about we make a deal—I’ll be more reasonable about work hours if you two cut the charade. I’m familiar with the ice bucket trip. Might’ve invented it myself.”
Everything inside me deflates, and I let out a sigh. “Deal,” I snap.
“Oh, look who it is!” Sharp says, peering around Eric’s broad shoulders. “That lunch? It’s supposed to be November fifth.”
“I heard you the first time.” I cross my arms and take a fortifying breath, because I have something to say. “You should know that spending time with Eric is my private business. I don’t want to hear any BS about me being a possible distraction during his season.”
“A distraction? Philadelphia wishes, am I right?” He laughs obnoxiously.