Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I’m referring to my detour to the Blizzard team, but I see Briar’s smile fade slightly as she unconsciously leans toward Harley. “Unexpected can be good, though. It’s the surprises that life throws at you that make it fun. When things get too boring, I always try to sprinkle a little ‘unexpected’ in on my own. Like we’ll head out on a road trip with no destination in mind, and every once in a while, we’ll stop and decide ‘left, right, or straight’ and see where we end up.”
“Last time, we ended up lost and Mom had to go into a sketchy gas station to ask for directions because there was no phone signal,” Harley informs me.
Briar laughs. “And we got the most delicious saltwater taffy we’ve ever had at that gas station, didn’t we? So it wasn’t all bad.”
I think that’s how she sees the world. Nothing is bad, it’s just good that hasn’t happened yet. Even the way she talks about being a single parent, which can’t be easy, is kindhearted.
“Mmm,” I groan dramatically, patting my stomach. “I love saltwater taffy. I don’t think I’ve had that in ages. Where’d you say that gas station was?”
Harley looks at Briar, who laughs. “Sorry, I have no idea. We were so lost I couldn’t even tell you what part of the state we were in. It was just a one-and-done experience to be appreciated for what it was.”
“Then, to the unexpected,” I conclude, raising my tea in the air.
Briar and Harley pick up their sodas and clink the plastic glasses to mine. “To the unexpected,” Briar echoes.
She gives me a questioning look, like she hasn’t quite figured me out yet, but is definitely trying. Unfortunately, she’s looking for schemes and strategies where there are none. I’m a “what you see is what you get” type of guy, with no dark depths to plunge into and explore. I’m a simple man—I want to play hockey, spend time with people I love, and make the best of the life I’ve been given. I think Briar wants that last one, too, but she’s got infinitely more layers than I do. Her glowy, bright exterior and quick smiles make it seem like she’s had it easy, but there’s so much hurt inside her. She’s covered it up with big mom energy and magic, but it’s there. I see it. I see her.
“Like getting to practice with my favorite nine-year-old,” I tell Harley, and his eyes almost pop out of his skull. I tilt my head, adding out of the side of my mouth, “To be fair, you’re the only nine-year-old I know personally.”
“The guys are going to be so jealous,” he whispers in disbelief. “Especially Connor.”
“Just a bit of ice time between friends,” I say with a shrug. It’s no big deal to me. I had fun with the kid (and his mother), but I can remember being his age and know how much it would’ve meant to have the opportunity to play with a professional that I looked up to. “And who cares what Connor thinks? Not you.” I plant that little seed in the kid’s mind, hoping to get the chance to water it and see it grow.
Harley grabs Briar’s hand, shaking it, and therefore her, wildly. “Mom, did you hear that? Dom says we’re friends!”
She smiles at him, but her eyes cut my way for a split second. I swear she can see right through me, so it’s a good thing there’s nothing but good intentions in my heart. “I heard. That’s really nice of Dom, isn’t it?”
Fuck.
She pointedly refused to call me Dom at the bar, and now that she has, I like it. A lot. Especially with that little glint in her eye that says she knows it’s an intimacy she declined before and is giving me now.
She might be the only friendly face I’ve met since getting to town, but I’m not feeling particularly friendly right this second. I clear my throat, telling myself again that she’s not looking for something romantic, and she’s especially not wanting anything like the dirty thoughts running through my mind—of my hands threaded into her messy hair as she sucks my cock or her giraffe sock–covered feet on my shoulders while I lick her pussy. Or even a sweet little kiss where I can taste the spicy ranch she’s been dipping her fries into.
Be cool, Dom. Be chill. Breathe. Don’t be one of the assholes she’s dealt with before.
“Yeah, kid. We’re all friends. You, your mom, and me.” The words are sawdust on my tongue, but a necessary reminder. Mostly for me, considering Briar seems to be laughing behind her blue-eyed stare, all too aware of the effect she has on me.
“Unexpected friends,” Briar declares as she reaches for another sweet potato fry. “Much like capybaras and crocodiles, who get along surprisingly well considering one is the prey and one is the predator.” Briar meets my gaze directly, a question hiding in the science lecture–toned words. “Capybaras will even ride on the crocodiles’ backs, floating along on the most dangerous paddleboard in existence.” She moves the fry through the air like the swimming crocodile and then snatches it between her teeth.