Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Yes,” she agrees, “my current boyfriend is saying no to whatever future boyfriends want in.”
“Current boyfriend,” I hiss then say her name, “Victoria.” Making everyone laugh, except me.
We leave at the same time as her parents and Nico, going straight to her house so she can pack a bag and then head back to mine.
“Are you ready”—she walks into the kitchen with her phone in her hand—“for us to draft up a statement?”
“I’ll post whatever you want me to post,” I tell her. “I want you to draft it because it matters to you.”
“I honestly don’t even want to put out a statement,” she states. “The only people who really matter are the people who know us.”
“We have to put out something.” She cocks her hip. “Everyone we know has been dropping statements on social media defending us.” Ken was not wrong, every fucking hour on the hour he was posting a comment from one of the guys on the team. I’m sure there were a few people who were pissed off by this, but I couldn’t care less at this point. My main focus was to make sure Victoria was okay.
“I know.” She comes to me and puts her head together with mine. She smiles at the camera; I don’t. “This is perfect. I’m going to caption it. “Put a finger down if you read that misleading article about my dating life.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” he says to me. “How about, drowning out the noise?”
“I guess we could use that also. Would that make you feel better?”
“It would,” I tell her as I grab her hips. “Now hurry up, time for me to get inside of you.”
She gets on her tippy-toes, wiggling her ass in my direction. “That sounds like a good time,” she throws over her shoulder. She posts something on her phone and then reaches for mine, doing the same thing on mine.
“Okay, now that this is taken care of”—she turns in my hands—“time for you to get inside of me.” She winks. “My throat feels a little dry.”
I head into my office the next morning, my head down as I look up and see Eric standing outside my door. “Well, that was an eventful day off.” He snickers at me, and I shake my head.
“Press is coming in today,” I inform him, “to film the practice, apparently.”
“Yup, Ken sent the email out this morning.”
“That should be interesting.” I walk into my office and toss my phone on the desk.
“It should be.” Eric sits in the chair in front of me with a smirk on his face. “Seems to me half the team or better yet the whole team, including a couple who are not happy with you are not happy with Timothy.”
“No shit.” I pull out my chair and sit down. “I dare him to fuck with me today.”
He doesn’t say anything because Ken walks into my office. “Good morning.”
“Why is everyone here so fucking early?” I lean back in my chair.
“Got shit to do,” Ken replies. “You and Jaxon have a press conference after practice.” I put my hands down on my desk. “And we just got word that if we win the next game and get the two points we need, we will officially be in playoff contention. Chasing that wild card spot.”
“I take it that is good news.”
“Haven’t been in this spot in the last four years, so yeah, good news.”
“Great, it might be nice to go a week without my job being threatened,” I mumble, making Ken laugh.
“It’s only Monday, still a lot of week left,” he jokes and I can’t help but laugh.
When the guys come out, we head to practice. Cam comes in right before Eric and I are about to walk out to the ice. “Nice of you to join us,” I tell him, putting on my gloves. “It might be a good idea to get on the ice before the players.”
“Why?” Cam asks, going to sit down at his spot. “It’s not like I’m the one who needs the practice.”
“You lead by example.” I shake my head as he rolls his eyes.
The practice is good, and the boys push hard. I grab my phone from the desk as I head out to the press room, bumping into Jaxon. “We have press,” he reminds me and I nod my head.
We walk into the room and head over to the stairs that lead to the elevated desk in the middle of the room. Some of the reporters are there as I sit down in the chair, and I look around to see Timothy in the back, leaning back with his pad on his knees.
“Let’s start this,” Jaxon urges. “Who is going first?”
“Jaxon,” one of the reporters in the front starts, “this year has been challenging for everyone.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he jokes.