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)
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince me or himself. “Sex is biological, but we need to stay focused. This is our year for the Cup.” Even as he says it, he glances toward Kipson, their supposed weak link.
“And everyone feels this way?” I question, sure there must be one man with some damn sense.
Pacholek shrugs. “Look at Coach,” he instructs, and I glance over my shoulder to find my new boss with a young brunette glued to his hip. “He’s married to a woman half his age and she isn’t with him for his dick or for love. It’s for the bank account and they both know it, even though she puts on a good show of being the queen at Coach’s side.” As I watch, Coach leans into the waitress with a little too much familiarity to simply order a beer and his wife intentionally turns her head away as though she didn’t see it. “She’s wife number four, I think.”
I am not a man who’s looking for love and I don’t have time for some romantic fantasy story, but I’ve been in a relationship or two in my lifetime and I understand the value they hold. Especially after seeing my parents, who are ridiculously, adorably in love after decades together. And of course there’s Penny and Griffin, who, despite my early reservations about their relationship, prove one simple truth. Love exists, it’s real, and it makes you better. It doesn’t distract you from what matters, it brings it into sharper focus.
So the Blizzard being a whole team of dick slingers? No wonder they fell apart when it was put up or shut up time in the playoffs. And no wonder Kipson’s wife bailed on him. It must’ve been hell to withstand this type of constant barrage, for both Kipson and his ex.
I scan the room . . . from Coach and his sugar baby wife, to Anderson, who does in fact have a woman hanging on his every word like she’s ready to suck his dick in the bathroom, to all the other players in the bar, who are grinning, chatting, and mingling. I look at every woman too. Of course, not all women are looking for love, either, certainly not in a bar and not with a professional athlete, but they deserve more than to be a hole on rotation for guys who probably won’t remember their names tomorrow. I’ve never believed in so-called puck bunnies.
Yet this is my team now? The one I’m supposed to help?
A wave of nausea overtakes me, bile trying to rise up my throat. I need to get out of here. I knew this was going to be an awful year, but things just got so much worse. A whole season of locker room stories and one-upmanship? I can’t do it.
I slam my beer and leave the empty glass on the table, stepping away. Pacholek calls after me, “Dom? You good?”
I ignore him. I ignore all of them, heading for the door.
The only thing that stops me is . . . her.
Chapter 2
Briar
I watch him out of the corner of my eye. I don’t know why. I don’t have time for a simple conversation, much less dating.
All I wanted tonight was the free drinks and appetizers-for-dinner my dad promised. This bar’s got a pretty decent kitchen. And honestly, sitting home alone while my son, Harley, is with his sperm donor gets boring. I always miss him when he’s gone . . . and worry the whole time too.
But Dominic did grab my attention for some reason. Maybe in the way our conversation ended.
He walked away easy enough, not upset at my dismissal, and the guys he went back to pretty obviously laughed at him, yet he didn’t grit his teeth or look angry. That’s . . . unusual.
Except now, as he strides across the room, heading for the door, he looks downright furious. Until he sees me.
I watch as he pulls that anger in, tucking it under a facade of calm, cool, and collected as he approaches once more. “Look, I’m sorry about before. I didn’t know you were Coach’s daughter. They told me to do some shitty fuck, marry, kill thing and I just pointed you out because you’re beautiful and honestly, were the closest woman to me. When they told me to come talk to you, I just wanted to get away from those fucksticks, but apparently it was all some sort of hazing thing. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense, to you or to Coach.”
The way the words roll off his tongue—fast and impulsive, like a stream of consciousness he doesn’t even try to control—makes him seem genuine, and I can definitely see the guys pulling that sort of prank on a newbie so I choose to believe him. Mostly. “They’re assholes, the whole lot of them. Anderson especially.” I cut my eyes across the room to the slick-talking goalie who never wants for female company. Puck bunnies basically line up to hop on his dick, which I don’t understand.