Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
She’s not mine. But I don’t want her to be anyone else’s either. Or for anyone else to consider that she might be available. As far as I’m concerned, if she’s off-limits to me, she’s off-limits to the world. And Josh might need a little lesson in that math, especially when he’s at a vantage point that lets him look down her cleavage, which he’s surreptitiously doing.
Given her tendency for clumsiness, it’s funny that on the ice is the one place I don’t worry about Penny. She’s got skills, equally at home with graceful spins from her figure skating days and hockey drills from her time practicing with Dominic. Still, when Josh finally steps onto the carpet and lets Penny go, I let out a sigh of relief.
In total, the silly game and exit takes less than four minutes, but being this close to Penny, having some guy touch her, and not being able to intervene is an unexpected hit to my mental game. I slap my helmet a few times on each side, internally yelling at myself to get my shit together because we’ve got a game to win.
“You good, bro?” Dom says, skating a tight circle around me.
“Yeah, just worried this is gonna be a bloodbath.” I wish I was talking about the game with the Beavers. And maybe, on some level, I am.
But mostly, I think I’m gonna destroy myself if I keep trying to protect Penny.
Chapter 5
Penny
“Hello?”
“Penny, this is Carolynn at Yesteryear Antiques,” the voice on the other end of the line says.
I instantly sit up straighter on the couch, where I’ve been vegging this morning, recovering from last night’s three-hour cheerfest by doomscrolling an online marketplace for jewelry. I shop every chance I get—pawnshops, estate sales, antique stores, auctions, you name it. Anywhere I might find jewelry, I’m there, scouring for heirloom pieces I can rework and sell. My favorite places, like Yesteryear, keep an eye out for me, calling if they get anything they think I’ll be interested in.
Carolynn is the owner of Yesteryear and has become a friend, often telling me about her grandkids and her desire to retire to Florida someday. But so far, she hasn’t been able to relinquish ownership of the store, which she started with a hope and a prayer and turned into a bustling business for herself and the people who rent booth space from her.
Clutching my phone tighter to my ear, I say brightly, “Hi, Carolynn! Got something pretty for me?”
“I’ve got a ring here . . . never seen anything like this . . . so beautiful,” she whispers in a way that lets me know she’s looking at it as she speaks. “I know you’ll want it, so I put it back for you, but you need to get down here. Now.”
I don’t bother asking for details. If Carolynn says I’ll want it, I will. And their hold policy is only two hours if you haven’t paid and twenty-four if you have.
“Say less. I’m already on my way. Right down the street, in fact. Be there any minute,” I assure her, though none of that is remotely true. What I am doing is pulling clothes from my closet, feeling the ticktock of my two-hour hold time as I begin doing some mental math gymnastics . . .
If I take ten minutes to get dressed, plus it’s a thirty-minute trip, that’s forty. I need gas, too, so add ten, but I can grab a drink at the station, so no coffee stop, which means minus fifteen . . .
“Just hurry. Don’t hurt yourself or anything else.” Carolynn chuckles, all too aware of my bad luck with the fragile breakables in her store. “Great performance last night too.”
“Thanks, it was a good win,” I murmur, trying to balance while shoving my legs into jeans.
The last period was rough, like sandpaper-on-a-sand-covered-ass-with-a-sunburn-from-a-day-on-the-beach rough. Dom and Griffin had kept the Beavers’ offense at bay, and just when the game couldn’t get any more tense and aggressive, Wilson had gently snuck one into the net on the Beaver goalie’s left side like he was buttering hot toast. Best of all, we won.
Her laugh rings in my ear. “I don’t care about those boys and their sticks. I saw you dancing your heart out while Todd was watching the game. I meant that you had a great performance, Penny.”
Touched, I freeze, mid-pantsing, to say, “Oh. Well, thank you.” And like I couldn’t control my mouth to save my life, I blurt out, “I haven’t even left home yet.”
“I know. Just get on down here. I’ll have the ring for you.”
I stare at the ring I’ve slipped onto my finger, speechless. The center diamond is round and easily five karats, surrounded by smaller baguettes set in thick bezel-style gold. And when I look through my monocular pocket loupe, it’s nearly colorless and flawless. It’s a truly amazing piece of art.