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)
“Yeah, that’d be us.”
“You mind if I …” He points to the urinal behind me and adjusts the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder.
“Oh, right. Sure.” I move toward the sinks so he doesn’t think I really am creeping in the bathroom for a hookup.
“So why are you hiding?” he asks, and I don’t know if he’s actually interested or just trying to break the awkwardness over the sound of him taking a leak with me lurking here.
“They’re on my case about my ex.”
After he’s zipped, he turns around and eyes me from top to toe again, and I can’t say I hate it. If anything, my instinct is to puff out my chest and flex my biceps.
“They want you to take him back?” He moves beside me to wash his hands.
Interesting that he assumes I’m gay. Although, the whole accidentally hitting on him thing probably helped him come to that conclusion. This is where I should normally deny it—where, under any other circumstance, I would—but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to lie to this cute stranger. He just scrutinized me hard enough that if he was going to recognize me as a winger in the NHL, he would’ve already picked up on it.
“They want me to come out at work so he’ll want me back,” I say. That’s a vague explanation, because it’s not like I’d be coming out to an office of twelve people; it’d be coming out to the entire world. Tabloids would jump on it faster than a drug-addicted popstar.
The guy winces. “Tough situation. One that rarely works without resentment.”
“The thing is, I’m twenty-four. I have a long career ahead of me, and I don’t want anything to throw me off. I want to be established first.”
“What do you do? Let me guess …” He mockingly assesses me this time, his finger rubbing across the thin layer of blond scruff on his chin. I wonder if he’s using this as an excuse to rake his gaze over me again. His eyes seem to lock onto my arms a lot, which are covered in so many tattoos there’s no bare skin anymore. “I think, despite the tats, you’re gonna be a contradiction. You’re bulky and tatted up, but I bet you’re in something like corporate business.”
I know way better than to tell him the truth. “Something like that. Very much a man’s world, anyway.”
“Right. Real men don’t like dicks,” he says dryly.
“Real men don’t know what they’re missing.”
Our eyes lock, and he relaxes into an easy smile as he reaches for the paper towels. For the first time in a long time, I find myself appreciating a man who’s not Ash. Not just in a he’s hot kind of way, but in a way where I actually feel a flutter of something in my gut. A couple of months ago, I didn’t think that’d ever be a possibility.
I hold my hand out for him to shake. “I’m—”
The door opens again, and this time it is one of my brothers.
I drop my hand fast.
“What the fuck is taking so—” Vic spots the guy next to me. “Oh. Gotcha. Hurry up and do what you gotta do. I’ll stall.” After dropping that, Vic turns on his heel and walks out.
“So, that was one of your brothers,” the guy says, his tone amused.
“You see what I have to put up with?”
“He didn’t seem so bad.”
“You know why we’re here at all?”
“At the Honey Bee?”
“It’s because they want me to be comfortable in my surroundings, as if I can’t be okay at a restaurant that’s not a gay hangout.”
He tries to keep his face passive, but a hint of a smile comes through. “It’s great they love who you are.”
“You go have dinner with them then,” I grumble.
He stares at the door and then back at me. “All right.”
“Uh … what?” I can’t have heard that right.
He steps closer. “You need them off your back about your ex, and I’m utterly fascinated by this odd family dynamic you claim to have. Doesn’t hurt your brothers are hot. Any of the others gay too?”
I feign offense. “What am I, chopped liver?”
He blatantly checks me out again, and I’d totally call him out for having the subtlety of an enforcer pummeling another player, but I like him looking at me.
“Not a big fan of guys on the rebound. Sorry.” Yet, he’s still staring at me.
“Hey, I’m over Ash. It’s my family who has the issue with him.”
That might be a tiny lie. I’m still dealing with being single, but I’m not pining after the guy or anything. I made my choice, so now I have to learn how to be an adult. Ash and I got together when I was nineteen, so I went from living in my parents’ house to a billet family while I was with the AHL, and then into an apartment where Ash took care of everything. These past six months have been the first time in my life I’ve been truly alone.