Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
I wrinkled my nose. “I’m in class until three.”
“Oh.” Jett raked his fingers through his hair. “Maybe next week or—”
“After practice,” I practically shouted. “Will that work?”
Silence. An owl hooted in the distance amid the usual racket of crickets, but the wooded pathway along the lake was eerily vacant now. Except for us. Maybe that was why my heartbeat sounded louder than normal.
Or maybe it was Jett. Geez, he was intense.
“See you at five.”
“Wonderful! Excellent!” I flashed a megawatt grin and gave two thumbs-ups, stepping backward and—stumbling over my own two feet.
Jett grabbed my arm, saving me from falling flat on my behind. “Easy there.”
He was so close, I could smell the sweat and heat of him…and I liked it. More than a little.
Yes, Jett Erickson was a decidedly handsome man—roguish and rough, like a pirate or a highwayman in a regency romance. Don’t judge. I’d read a few of those. However, he wasn’t my type of person. He was too big, too mysterious, too sporty, and probably too straight…all of which made him bad infatuation material.
I cleared my throat and primly adjusted my glasses. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
Jett tipped his chin, his lips curling at one corner. “Later, Maloney.”
“Later,” I repeated, waving as he walked away.
When I was sure he was gone, I pumped my fist in the air triumphantly. Yes! I’d done it. I had my jock.
Now I just had to collect data, run a few flawless experiments, and write a riveting piece.
Oh, yes…and not fall in lust with my hockey hero subject.
Piece of cake.
CHAPTER 4
JETT
“Two scouts will be at your game this weekend with Trinity. They’re a solid middling team—not too easy, not too tough. You guys should beat them with your hands tied behind your back, but a W will do. How are you feeling? Is your knee bugging you?”
My agent was a sturdy middle-aged man with a thick mustache and thinning hair dyed an unnatural shade of brown. At least that was how he’d looked last time we’d seen each other. It had been a few months since our previous in-person meeting. Randall was a busy man with an impressive clientele…who also happened to be a friend of my dad’s and an old teammate of Coach Beekman’s.
He’d taken me on as a favor to my old man. However, I knew Randall wouldn’t waste time with me if he didn’t think I had potential. And I didn’t really mind these occasional phone calls. Randall was a nice enough guy and someone I absolutely wanted in my corner, but sometimes I wished he didn’t know so much about me.
Like my knee problem.
It was an old injury that flared up once in a while, but it never stopped me. Probably because I was a pro at managing it. I iced it three times a day and did whatever exercises were necessary to strengthen the muscles surrounding my kneecap.
Truthfully, it kind of hurt. I shouldn’t have extended my jog with Malcolm yesterday. I had strict rules about how much time I spent on any nonessential extracurricular activity, especially if it impacted my knees. Then again, that had been more of a brisk walk than anything.
And just like that, I had a dopey-ass smile on my face.
I couldn’t help it. The memory of the uber-serious science guy lying in wait for me in his oversized sweats and scruffy sneakers with his nose in a book made me chuckle. He’d been so earnest and yeah…he was kinda cute, too.
Don’t worry. I knew Malcolm was out of my league. Too smart for me by half.
I still liked him, and I respected his tenacity and grit. He’d shamelessly stalked me for days. Days.
Melanie, my favorite barista at Coffee Cave had wondered if I knew I had an admirer.
“He’s adorable,” Mel had singsonged. “Glasses, wears V-neck sweaters, and carries a backpack the size of a small microwave. Ring any bells?”
“Uh…”
“I think he’s got a crush on you,” she’d teased.
My ears had gone pink for sure, but I’d scoffed and moved on. I knew better.
Malcolm hadn’t been following me with hearts in his eyes. He’d wanted something from me. I was used to that. Hockey was a big deal at Smithton, and not to brag, but my sport had made me a mini celebrity here.
Seriously. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d paid for every item on my tab at any establishment in town. The crew at Coffee Cave comped croissants or charged me half of what I owed for my daily cup of joe. The staff at Bear Depot always offered me the table at the window and brought a treat on the house—onion rings, fries, a sundae, a milkshake. Yogi’s Frozen Yogurt Shop wouldn’t take my money at all.
They were sweet perks, but they came with an expectation to win games. No problem. I wanted that too, and I’d always liked the attention—invitations to exclusive parties, free drinks, willing partners…sign me up.