Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“The fewer people who know the truth, the better,” I say once we’re in our seats and alone. “Especially on my team.”
“Want me to post that selfie on my socials?”
Ugh. That’s something I’ll have to do, too. And when my friends and former teammates see it, I’ll get flooded with messages. I’ve never posted a photo of a woman on my social media.
“Yeah,” I say. “And send it to me. I’ll post it too.”
She gives me the devilish smile I know all too well. “Caption it, My heart and add a heart emoji.”
I groan. “Come on. Everyone who knows me knows I’m not cheesy.”
“You are for me.” She rests her chin on her hand, grinning. “By the end of this, I’ll have you posting about how you’d crawl through broken glass just to kiss my filthy, unmanicured feet.”
I glare at her across the small table. “What’s your handle? I have to follow you.”
“I’m MaraTorres19 on all of them.”
“What’s the nineteen for?”
“My favorite constitutional amendment.”
I roll my eyes. “Nerd.”
“Caveman.”
I pick up my menu. “Me hungry, so figure out what you want to order.”
“I think we need pet names for each other.”
I slump in my seat, dreading what she’ll come up with.
“Mine should be about your ass, because obviously,” she says.
I sit up straighter. “Obviously what?”
She lowers her brows. “You’re going to make me say it? It’s a great ass. There.”
“You like my pro dumper?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Why did you just ruin it?”
“No, not like that. That’s what we call a strong ass in hockey.”
“I’ve noticed other guys on the team have decent asses, but yours is exceptional. Don’t let it go to your head, though.”
“You want me to sign a picture of it for you?”
She scoffs. “No.”
“I should call you my little habanero.”
Her jaw drops. “Fucking racist. I’m about to raise my price.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant like because you’re hot and spicy.”
“Uh-huh. And I’ll call you my little Neanderthal.”
I focus on the menu, fighting my urge to keep escalating the argument. That’s usually our style. We both want to get the last word in. But that’s Mara all the time, and I’m not like that with anyone but her.
Conflict gives me anxiety--unless it's with her. Weirdly, I enjoy our interactions, even when she frustrates the hell out of me. It’s kind of an outlet.
“We can easily get away without meeting each other’s families because we can say things are still new,” I say. “But I’ll need you for some holiday stuff with my team. There’s an ugly sweater party Wednesday evening. Can you make that?”
“Sure.” She meets my gaze. “As long as I get to pick out your sweater.”
I sigh softly. “Fine. You won’t be able to shock my teammates. Better pick one fast, or it won’t be here on time.”
“It’ll be fine. You can do expedited shipping.”
I guess this is my life now. Playing hockey and amusing Mara. But it won’t be forever. We can fake a hot and heavy relationship for a month and then say she dumped me and I’m devastated. That should buy me time with Anson.
And if nothing else, this year’s holiday season will at least be memorable.
Chapter Ten
Mara
* * *
“This is the saddest excuse for a lunch I’ve ever seen,” Jayden mutters to me.
We’re standing in the staff lounge for our office, and if I wasn’t so hungry, the scene before me would be funny. For the holiday potluck, one person brought in a pan of cheesy potatoes, which are gone. Everyone else picked up trays of cookies from the store.
I pick up a hard chocolate chip cookie and take a small bite. “Well, we brought in cookies, so I guess we can’t complain.”
“I’m still complaining. After the morning I had, I think I’m entitled.”
He did have a shitty morning. Someone bumped into him in the elevator and spilled coffee all over his dress shirt, and he didn’t have an extra in his office, so he had to go to court in the wet one. The judge dressed him down for showing up looking like that, and then another judge dismissed the charges in a DUI case because the defendant’s blood sample was mishandled.
It was a criminal case, so another attorney from our office was handling it, but we did some of the legwork on it. The defendant has served jail time for DUIs in the past, so it’s likely he’ll be out reoffending soon.
Bruce walks into the lounge and surveys the spread, shaking his head. “This is why we need a sign-up sheet.”
“What did you bring?” I ask him.
He looks at me, his nostrils flaring. “Are you ready for our meeting?”
I nod, fighting my urge to smile. I work through lunch often, but the men in the office turn into hangry beasts when they don’t get lunch.
Once we’re in his office, Bruce opens a desk drawer and pulls out a bag of pretzels, then sits down in his squeaky chair. “Okay, did you review those cases?”