Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“You put me first?” Maxim grinned. “I always knew you had a crush on me.”
I rolled my eyes. His teasing was another thing I was used to. Sure, I knew the man’s hockey stats, but that didn’t mean I had a thing for him. “Funny,” I said. “You’re always mooching off my brother,” I teased right back. “You were easy to find.”
He smirked. “I’d be easy for you.”
“Good,” I fired back. “I need you to be easy.”
“The fuck you say?” Caz snapped as he shut the fridge and spun around. He cocked a brow at his friend, but there was no real threat in his tone. He knew Maxim liked to mess with me. I think it was like a rite of passage to pick on your best friend’s little sister.
“For my work!” I snapped at my brother, then looked to Maxim.
Maxim laughed, shaking his head.
“Seriously, Maxim,” I said, softening my tone and totally ignoring my grumbling brother. He was the definition of cock-block, not that I had any interest in Maxim. Just, my brother being who he was, not many guys had the balls to pursue me. And even if they somehow made it past Caspian’s wicked intimidating grill-sessions, they often couldn’t stand the heat of the life. Which was fine. I’d had one relationship, and that was just about enough as far as I was concerned.
“Would it be possible for you to play nice with Sterling?” I asked. “Langley wants to do some family promos to highlight our sponsorship with the Ronald McDonald House this season. It would be super beneficial for the organization, the team, and our image.”
All teasing left Maxim’s eyes as he shrugged. “I’m a professional,” he said. “I don’t let anything stand in the way of the game. If it’s good for the team, I’m in.”
“Great,” I said, sighing a little. One down—
“Don’t expect Sterling to be as mature as me,” he said.
I furrowed my brow. “Why didn’t you ever mention him? Why is it such a secret—”
“Not much of a secret anymore,” he cut me off. “Now that you and Langley want to parade us around—”
“Not what we’re doing,” I interrupted him and fashioned him with a glare for good measure. “This was me asking. I’m not threatening your contract if you don’t comply.”
He tipped his chin up.
So that was a plead-the-fifth on the brother questions. Got it.
“Okay,” I said, blowing out a breath as I grabbed my purse. “This has been super fun.” I glanced to Caz, who was in the middle of building a sandwich four slices of bread high, before returning to focus on Maxim. “Maxim, thank you for being a professional. I’ll text you the details as soon as I know them.” I spun on my heels, my heart hiccuping a little at the thought of my next obstacle—Sterling. A huge obstacle, since he’d done everything to avoid me since he’d seen me being friendly with Maxim.
“You can text me any time,” Maxim called as I walked toward the front door, and I rolled my eyes.
I settled into my car, butterflies flapping in my stomach. Somehow I knew convincing Sterling to do anything with Maxim beyond throw punches would be ten times harder than it had been with Maxim. But the challenge sparked something in my blood…
Or it could be that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Sterling since the night in the elevator. I quite possibly hated him for that reason alone—the last thing I needed right now was a distraction, but holy hockey Gods, Jansen Sterling was the distraction. All carved muscles, crushing blue eyes, and a smirk that promised pleasure. And he’d been so…sweet in the elevator. Not mocking my fear, but helping to disarm it. That alone would be enough to have me intrigued, but add to it his pure, primal vibe at Scythe? It was a terribly irresistible combination.
Getting him to agree to the promo spots might be impossible, but I couldn’t deny how much I wanted to be the one to get him to agree.
I just had to hope like hell he’d listen.
3
Sterling
The locker room hummed with the kind of palpable excitement that only existed during preseason. There was always an energy before a game, but it changed depending on our record and where we were in the season. If we were doing well and headed toward playoffs, it was a fierce, almost cocky atmosphere. If we were playing like shit, there was always a bitter tang of desperation in the air. But preseason? That shit was magic. Anything was possible.
We had yet to find out who we were as a team or whether our individual talents might be swallowed up by massive egos or welded together in a united purpose.
For the last few weeks, we’d been practicing, and it wasn’t like I didn’t know the lines or couldn’t remember how to depend on Nathan or Hudson, but this wasn’t the same team I’d left three years ago. There were two new rookies this year alone, and a lot had changed in the year the expansion draft had forced me to Bangor.