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)
“No. I don’t care how many greasy, artery-clogging patties—”
Leaning in extraclose, I rumble, “I like the way you look when you pretend not to care.”
A smile grows on her face. “Fine, you can eat whatever monstrosity of cheeseburger you want. Just gimme that Snickers.”
I hold it up, teasingly high, but I only make her reach for it once before handing it over. I want her to eat, to take care of herself, and maybe, let me take care of her a little too. It’s what I’m good at, and I don’t think she’s had anyone do that for her in a long time. Maybe ever.
“Uh-oh, Harley. I think we’re too late. She’s getting hangry.”
Chapter 8
Briar
“Who is that?” Trina purrs. Literally. She sounds like one of the cougars housed here at the Berkshire Zoo. She’s also peering across the walkway with quite the hungry look . . . at Dominic presumably, who is sitting on the ground outside the gibbon habitat with Harley.
“A friend,” I answer vaguely. I’m not trying to be coy, I just don’t know how to phrase this situation. And a lifetime of experience has taught me, even a single stray comment about Dom could end up splashed across the sports pages. I don’t want to cause him, or myself, any unintended drama.
Dominic’s clearly wise to the game too. He isn’t exactly famous in that paparazzi-chasing sort of way, but since there’s a chance someone might recognize him, he’s wearing a ballcap pulled down low and sunglasses. Paired with his khaki T-shirt and black jeans, he blends into the zoo personnel quite well, and no one should identify the professional hockey player in their midst. Or at least, that’s the hope, and so far, nobody seems to be giving him a second glance.
Except Trina and me, and neither of us are the least bit concerned with Dominic’s job as an athlete.
“Can I be his friend too? Girl, look at the chest muscles stretching the hell outta that shirt. Those nipples are downright bitable.” She takes a snarling bite out of the air.
“Trina!” I scold, but when she rawrs, complete with clawed fingers like a big cat, I can’t hold back the giggles.
Despite my declaration that Dominic is a friend, that’s getting harder to argue. He picked us up early this morning, with a bag full of bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches and a cup of coffee for me already on the console. It’s a small gesture, but it means something, like he wants to take care of us. And the more it happens, the more I’m starting to like it.
He drove us to the zoo while switching between his own coffee and a gross-looking green protein smoothie, asking questions about my job the whole time. Once we arrived, he opened my door, helped me out of the jacked-up truck, then made sure Harley wasn’t overdoing it on his still slightly tender ankle. I gave him a quick tour of the gibbon area, basically pointing out the viewing windows and the closest bathrooms, and then I had to get to work. But dragging myself away from them was hard, and I’ve spent most of the day wondering what they’re up to.
The answer seems to be . . . happily watching Caprice and her baby.
Dominic is not what I expected, nor what I thought . . . about hockey players or about men in general. I didn’t think men like him existed in real life. Men who are kind, generous, and supportive, and who don’t expect to be revered by the mere right of having been born with a penis. At least in my experience, he’s a complete anomaly.
And fine, I’ll admit that his chest looks pretty nice too. So does the cocky yet not arrogant smile, the gentlemanly manners, and the way he stood up to Tyler without escalating things. It was nice to have someone on my side for once.
And while he keeps calling us friends, I can feel the way he looks at me. He wants me, but he’s not going to force things. He’s not going to make me do anything that I’m going to regret. Instead, he seems to be rock solid, strong enough to silently say, Here I am. When you’re ready—if you’re ready—I’m still going to be here.
It’s reassuring, but the truth is, all that strength, all that restrained intensity, also feels overwhelming. I’ve spent a lifetime having men in my life tell me I’m not good enough. Dominic’s dark gaze not only says I’m good enough, but that I’m a queen.
It might make a good fairy tale, but jumping from Cinderella to princess is scary, especially when I already made that leap once and ended up so much worse off, in many ways.
“I think I’ll go check on him,” I tell Trina, and she gives me a knowing look. “Them! I mean, them! Harley and my . . . friend.”