Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Foster grumbles, sipping from his glass.
“It is,” Mila replies, elbowing him with a playful glare. “Welcoming committee has snacks and wine.”
“Don’t forget matching pajamas,” Mazzy adds with mock seriousness. “It’s practically a requirement.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. I didn’t expect this—any of it. Not the reaction from my friends. Not the way Winnie has gotten into my head. Not the scary possibility that maybe this isn’t just an experiment for her.
They keep talking, the banter rolling, and I sip at my beer, letting the friendship wash over me. This team—it’s everything I never knew I needed. It’s never been like this on other teams and I’m guessing it’s my biggest stroke of luck yet.
But that girl? That sharp, funny, beautiful woman with the hypercritical rabbit and the overthinking heart?
She might be something more.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I know it’s her before I even glance down. What time?
My mouth kicks up into a grin. Tomorrow just got better.
CHAPTER 11
Winnie
I’m right on time and this almost never happens. Buttermilk threw up a carrot after overindulging and then I spent way too long debating what to wear before landing on a navy wrap dress with white sneakers and a denim jacket. Admittedly, I took a little longer with my hair, putting beach waves in it, and okay… more makeup than I normally wear at school but far less than a full beat.
Casual. Cute. Like I didn’t try too hard, even though I absolutely did.
I pull into the lot of the little diner Lucky picked—Griddle & Grind—and spot his blacked-out Tahoe. Of course he beat me here. He offered to pick me up, but after a few more texts last night, I knew his time today was limited since the team is flying to Dallas this afternoon, and I insisted I meet him here.
Inside, the place is the perfect mix of cozy and classic. Booths with cracked red vinyl seats, coffee pots clinking behind the counter, and the smell of bacon thick enough to bottle. I spot him right away, already seated in a booth at the back, nursing a coffee and scrolling through his phone.
He looks up the second I approach, his smile instant. Warm and easy, like we do this all the time.
“Hey,” he says, standing to greet me, eyes moving down my body and back up again. “You look beautiful.”
My face goes hot and I want to kick myself. Who blushes from a simple compliment? “Thank you,” I murmur. “You look beautiful too. Shit… I mean handsome.”
“You’re fucking adorable when you’re flustered.” He laughs and gestures to the booth. “Perfect timing. I ordered us coffee, but you can switch to tea if you want. I know you like floral ones but not sure the type.”
I slide into the seat, touched that he remembered that detail from our first date. “Elderflower and chamomile. Good memory, but I’ll stick with coffee this morning.”
He shrugs. “I’m a good listener.”
The waitress swings by with a mug for me, which she fills, and I add cream and sugar. I nod down at his cup. “Black. No nonsense.”
He taps the edge of his mug. “Real men drink it black. None of that cream-and-sugar shit women love.”
I blink at him, surprised by the sexist remark. My voice is tight. “Really?”
Lucky tips his head and laughs. “No, not really. I just wanted to see your expression when a man hands you something so ridiculous. On your videos as you break down your dates, you’re always funny about it, but I wanted to see if you actually get offended.”
I shake my head, my lips curving. “Yeah… I obviously do get offended.”
“Men are stupid much of the time. I mean… I’m not saying I have all the answers when it comes to women, but there are some dudes that you know were homeschooled by a pigeon.”
I snort hard as I’m taking a sip, almost drawing the liquid up my nose and down into my lungs simultaneously. “So,” I say, after a slight coughing fit during which he grins at me. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
He lifts a brow. “We’re starting off with hard-hitting questions, huh?”
I nod. “Always. Can I ask you something kind of nosy?”
Lucky glances over at me, mockingly. “Absolutely not. This is a deeply private and guarded space.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m serious.”
“Fire away.”
I sip my coffee and place the mug down. “What’s your dating history like? And don’t say ‘extensive but respectful,’ because I’ll throw the sugar canister at you. And also… this is strictly for scientific research.”
He grins, clearly amused. “Fair enough. My experience has been casual, mostly. A lot of short things. Nothing significant.”
I tilt my head. “By choice?”
“Partially,” he says, more thoughtful now. “I mean, hockey’s kind of the third person in every relationship I’ve ever had. The travel schedule sucks. The fame thing complicates trust. And sometimes, people just… want to be part of the brand, you know?”