Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I’ve seen it,” Tommy says. “Your tension on the ice. You’re hesitating. Your head’s too in the game, and you need to turn your brain off for a while.”
“That’s the last thing I need. I need to focus more. The team is in a slump. The Dragons were on track to make the playoffs easily. Now … if we don’t win against Toronto this week, we’re out. It’s like we still haven’t gelled even though I’ve been with them for two months. It’s not like you and me where we clicked right away.”
Tommy leans against the bar. “Why do you think that is? Could it be that I knew your secret since before you were called up?”
For all I know, our bond does have something to do with my game. Tommy and I had trust. I’ve been playing for New York for only two months. I don’t know the guys on my team well yet, and it shows.
“So, you’re saying I should come out,” I say. “At least to the team.”
“At least to someone on your line. Hell, start small. Come out to Maddox or Damon.”
Tommy is married to Maddox’s sister, and Maddox happens to be my agent’s boyfriend. The reason I met Damon was because of Tommy’s connection to him.
“I know they’re, like, your family, but it’s weird hanging out with my agent. I’m scared I’m gonna say something or do something stupid in front of him. I need to be professional.”
“Pfft, he works for you.”
“Doesn’t mean he won’t drop me faster than you can say power play if I fuck up. Until I’m ready to make it public, Maddox and Damon aren’t an option.”
“Fine then—a complete stranger who doesn’t know who you are or what you do. Maybe it’s time to start taking those steps—”
I eye him suspiciously. “Have you been talking to my mother?”
He chuckles. “No, but I’m saying it could help your game.”
“You should worry about your own game, old man. You’re at seventy-five percent of the points you had at the same time last year.”
Tommy ruffles my hair as if he finds my heckling cute instead of the wicked trash talk I’m trying for. “Just think about it.”
We’re finally served drinks, and I gulp mine down so fast I order another one straightaway before the bartender can run off again. My defenses are down for all of five seconds while I’m distracted with the bartender, and I can only blame myself for not anticipating Tommy’s big brother antics.
Someone brushes by me, and next thing I know, Tommy hip-checks me into them.
“You’re a dead man,” I say through gritted teeth.
“What did you say?” a masculine voice says behind me.
Shit. I put on a smile and turn to face the poor guy Tommy’s picked as some sort of target for me. “Sorry. My friend can be a bit—”
My words die when I come face to face with my blond Superman. Strong jaw, nerdy framed glasses that he didn’t have in Boston and don’t suit his pretty boy face but somehow make him look even better, and a chin dimple that could make anyone—man or woman—want to touch it. Or lick it.
With the glasses, he’s no longer Superman but an actual Clark Kent. And that makes him hotter.
Huh, who knew I liked nerd kink?
Recognition sets in for him too. His mouth hangs open.
We both forget how to use our words. I suddenly can’t remember how to talk, what I was saying, or what my name is.
Clark composes himself first. “A bit …”
“Uh …”
“Rough,” Tommy says for me. “Sorry about that.” He claps my shoulder. “This guy here can help you with getting a new drink.”
It’s only then I notice the beer dripping off the lapels of Clark’s tux jacket. He fills out the royal blue suit perfectly with tight lines wrapped over an even tighter body. He’s tall—well, still shorter than me, but most people are—and lean, and I try not to stare.
“My brother-in-law is waving me over, so I’m out,” Tommy says.
He’s totally lying. Maddox is at the other end of the bar talking with Matt, but I don’t care. I practically shove him in their direction.
Before Tommy goes, he leans in to whisper in my ear. “At least make a friend, you loner.” With a slap to the back of my head, Tommy walks off.
Clark watches Tommy leave. “Did he call you a loser?”
The tips of my ears burn, and I can only hope they’re not bright red, but being a loser is probably less sad than being a loner. “Smack talk,” I say, finally finding my voice. I shrug. “Hockey players.”
“You both kind of look more like corporate businessmen.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You. It’s … you.”
He points to his chest. “Clark. Did you forget your boyfriend’s name?”
“Ooh, I didn’t get the chance to tell you. We broke up. You cheated on me.”