Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Instead, she’d gotten a promotion at work.
It was a relief.
But that fear hasn’t gone anywhere.
Knox McNichols claps me on the back with a gloved hand. “Cheer up, fucker. We won tonight.”
I grunt in response.
There isn’t much that comes before hockey.
Lilah’s the exception.
The second I step into the locker room, I yank off my gloves and toss them onto the bench as I reach for my cell. My pulse kicks up as my fingers tighten around the slim device and I unlock the home screen.
There’s not a single message or missed call from her.
With a frown, I check my inbox.
Still nothing.
“What the fuck?” I mutter before firing off a text.
Me:
Where are you?
I strip off my jersey, grab a towel, and check again.
Nada.
Me:
Everything okay?
No response.
My jaw clenches, and I force myself to breathe through the unease clawing at my ribs.
Me:
Lilah. Call me. You’re starting to scare me.
I swear to God, when I finally get my hands on that woman, I’ll spank her damn ass. I groan as an image of bending her over my lap and smacking the rounded curve of her bottom shoves its way into my brain. The last place I need to pop wood is in the locker room with a bunch of naked dudes.
I’d never hear the end of it.
Jaxon Wilder watches me with a slow-growing smirk.
“Damn,” he drawls, kicking back against his stall. “I didn’t realize you were so whipped.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, stuffing my gear into my locker with more force than necessary.
Jaxon raises his hands in surrender, but the grin remains firmly in place. He’s the newest member of the Railers, having just come up from playing for a minor league team. “Relax, man. She probably got held up at work.”
Maybe.
Although my gut is telling me there’s more to the story.
And the one thing about my gut is that it’s never wrong.
By the time we walk into The Rail Yard thirty minutes later, I’m wound so tight I can barely sit still. The place is packed with the usual post-game crowd, buzzing with energy. A flickering neon sign says “Da Bar” in glowing blue letters. Inside, brick walls and dim lighting give it a gritty charm. It’s the kind of hole-in-the-wall place you only find if you know what you’re looking for. A stuffed bear wearing a Railers jersey stands guard in the corner, and hockey memorabilia—signed pucks, vintage sticks, framed jerseys—fills every inch of wall space. Music hums through the speakers as conversations blend together.
The only thing I’m able to focus on is the weight of my cell in my hand.
I head to our usual booth in the back and drop down onto the seat. The waitress delivers a beer that I barely touch as my knee bounces under the table.
I can’t stop checking my phone every two minutes.
“No word yet?” Knox asks, lounging across from me, his arms sprawled over the back of the booth. A few girls vie for his attention. There’s never a shortage of them buzzing around, hoping to capture his interest. Much like his older brother, Colby McNichols, Knox is a favorite with the ladies. It’s doubtful he’ll settle down anytime soon. His career has exploded over the past season, bringing him even more attention, not to mention sponsorship deals, than before. He’s on his way to becoming a household name.
With a shake of my head, my gaze combs over the crowd for what feels like the millionth time. “Nope.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” There’s a pause. “She still with that lawyer boyfriend? The pompous one?”
My jaw tics. “Yup.”
Unfortunately.
“It’s always possible she’s with him. It’s kind of a normal girlfriend thing to do.”
My eyes narrow as I glare at him. “She never misses a home game.”
Oliver drops onto the seat next to Knox. “Here’s a thought. Maybe it’s time to stop pining for her and move the fuck on.”
Perfect.
Just what I need.
Another unwanted opinion.
Knox nudges our teammate. “Ouch. That’s some tough love right there.”
Oliver shrugs. “Look around, Sanderson. There’s not a girl in this place who wouldn’t drop her panties if you even looked in their direction. All you have to do is wipe the scowl off your ugly mug and give someone the green light to proceed. How long has it been since you got laid? A few weeks?” When I remain silent, his brows rise. “Please don’t tell me it’s been longer than that.”
I press my lips together and refocus my attention on our teammates who are horsing around near the bar. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?” I grouse.
A smile spreads across his face. “Come on, Cap. You know you’re the only one I want to bother.”
Knox, the asshole, decides to jump on the bandwagon and give me shit. “Damn. I didn’t realize it had been so long. No wonder you’re wound tight.”
Before I can tell them both to mind their own damn business, Knox snags a random woman walking past by the wrist. “Hey, sweetheart.”