Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Whoa, this is fancy,” I murmur in awe, ignoring the disorientation.
I place my hands on the cool stone ledge and take a few deep breaths. I lift my gaze and study myself in the mirror. I took my time with my hair today, made possible by a brand-new hair dryer that showed up outside my bedroom door this morning. Clearly from Penn, but it was such a thoughtful gesture, it confused me more than anything. He’s the furthest thing from thoughtful that I can imagine, and yet, he was so gentle with me when he managed to free my hair from the jaws of the prior one.
I study my outfit—dark skinny jeans, suede booties, and a soft cream sweater tucked in slightly at the waist. A long, gray wool coat pulls the whole look together, along with a chunky purple knit scarf that’s a subtle nod to the team colors. Unashamedly, I’d scoured Penn’s place for something Titans-branded but came up empty. I suppose Penn doesn’t wear much merch when he is the merch, but I did find this purple scarf in the coat closet. I didn’t ask his permission to wear it, and I hope he doesn’t mind, but I wanted to at least look like a Titans’ fan.
“You’re looking good, Mila,” I whisper to myself.
And I feel good. Nervous. But good. I can do this. I know I can because compared to running from a stalker, this is like a stroll through Disney World.
With another deep inhale followed by an exhale, I exit the restroom. Jackie is nowhere to be seen, and I note that there are a handful of people milling about. I assume VIP guests or dignitaries, but they all look unapproachable in their tailored suits and highball drinks in hand. I take a tentative step farther in, not sure where to go or who to talk to, when a woman approaches, her slate-blue eyes locked on me. I know who Brienne Norcross is and this is not her.
The pale-skinned beauty has glossy brown hair threaded with golden tones and offers me a warm smile as she approaches. She’s wearing slim black pants and a deep plum turtleneck that flatters her lithe frame. Confident but approachable, she moves with the kind of calm authority that makes people look twice.
“You must be Mila,” she says, smiling and holding out her hand. “I’m Willa. I’m dating Jack Kingston.”
We shake and I can’t think of anything to say but, “Um… okay.”
She grins at me. “I can see you’re not expecting me. Penn told King you’d be here and asked if I could watch over you. I wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to sit in the owner’s box, so I said sure.”
For some reason, that makes me laugh and a wave of relief hits me. Another person who’s as awed as I am to be here, even if she’s got more experience being a part of this team by virtue of her relationship with a player.
“It was completely shocking Penn asked for a favor. He never asks for anything. Or talks. Or interacts.”
That makes me laugh again. “Yeah, that tracks.”
Willa loops her arm casually through mine. “Come on, let me introduce you to Lilly. Her fiancé is Boone—he and King both play on Penn’s line.”
She guides me down to the seating area where a woman with long, shiny brown hair and bright blue eyes waves from one of the front-row seats. She’s dressed in a white Titans’ jersey—Boone’s name and number bold across the back—paired with dark jeans and crisp white sneakers. There’s something effortlessly pretty about her, with a warm smile that immediately puts me at ease.
“Mila,” Willa says, gesturing between us. “This is Lilly. Lilly, Mila.”
“Hi!” Lilly offers me a warm handshake. “So nice to meet you.”
We all settle in, and I take the seat between the two women.
Lilly taps my knee, her expression bright and curious. “So… how do you know Penn?”
I hesitate, giving a practiced smile. “We knew each other back in junior hockey. Just… old friends and I’m visiting Pittsburgh. He’s actually letting me stay at his place for a bit.”
Willa and Lilly exchange a brief glance. There’s a pause, not awkward, but definitely loaded. These women are smart. They know there’s more. But they don’t press, and I’m grateful for that.
“How about you two?” I ask quickly, shifting the spotlight. “Tell me all about you and how you met your guys.” And I realize that makes me sound like Penn is more than my friend, so I correct myself. “Not that Penn is my guy. We’re just friends.”
Willa chuckles and nods. “You and Penn are just friends. Got it. So, I’m a doctor—”
“And you met King by treating him,” I guess.
Willa snorts. “It’s really not all that interesting. I was coaching a youth hockey team—even though I knew nothing about hockey.”