Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“The thought of leaving them with a stranger doesn’t sit right with me, but it’s clear Zoe can’t handle them anymore, and she shouldn’t have to. You can’t sacrifice the team or your college education because of it. I’ll … find a solution.”
I purse my lips. “You know I don’t mind helping with them.”
“I know, but they’ve—no, I’ve disrupted your life too much already. I’ll organize more ice time for the two of you if you think it’ll help.”
I glance at Simms, who’s looking at me like I’ve grown two heads. What is it? I haven’t been a dick in the last two minutes? I’m tempted to prove all his preconceived notions about me correct, but I’m exhausted. Plus, with two more years on the ice together, we really do need to work out how to play nice if I’m going to see a Frozen Four.
“We need more time on the ice,” I say. “With Kaplan too. And without an audience. I can sense the team anticipating when we’ll fuck up next, and it’s pressure none of us need.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” West says.
“Can we go now?” I ask.
He steps away from the door.
Kole’s standing next to Beck outside Coach’s office, and I scowl at him.
Oh, he tries to put on an innocent smile, but I’m not buying it.
He steps forward and pats my cheek. “Good boy.”
“Wow. Could you be any more condescending?”
“Yes, I can. Would the good boy like to go for some ice cream as a treat? I’m buying.” His hazel eyes shine up at me as he waves to Beck and grabs my hand to drag me through the locker room.
“I’m not saying no, but so you know, you owe me so much more than fucking ice cream.”
“I’ll even throw a cherry on top.” He winks, and I hate that it’s that easy to make my anger at him disappear.
“I’ll have a scoop of the rocky road,” Kole says. “And he’ll have …” He turns to me.
“A chocolate brownie sundae with the works. Chocolate sauce, nuts, and two cherries.” Just because I’m not mad anymore, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to milk it.
“You earned it.” Kole slaps my shoulder. “You used your big-boy words and not your fists. I’m so proud.”
A joke about using my fist for other things is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. One, because we’re in a very public place. And two, I wouldn’t want him to think I was serious. I might be open to a lot of things, but that’s on the nope list for me.
We’re given our ice cream, and we find a table in the corner of the small place. It’s super late for somewhere like this to be open, but we’re far from the only ones in here—probably because it’s after a game and everyone is still out.
As I take a bite of gooey brownie and chocolate ice cream, I hum happily because this is what heaven tastes like.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” Kole asks.
“Not even close.” Sauce dribbles onto my lip, and I lick it off. A weird, strained noise comes from Kole, and I can’t help smiling.
He’s fixated on my lip, but when he sees I’ve caught him staring, he averts his gaze. “You know, I did promise to tutor you. For free. That has to earn me some forgiveness.”
“Oh, and that sounds like so much fun too,” I say dryly. “I’m thinking …” I decide to tease him some more because I’ve finally found something that makes Kole Hogan uncomfortable. Me flirting with him. Hello, future ammunition. “You could do something … else.”
He stares at me expectantly.
“Something that we’d both enjoy.” I scoop another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth slowly.
Kole catches on to what I’m doing. “Not gonna happen, big guy. You aren’t my type.”
“Your staring would suggest otherwise.”
“Oh, you’re hot, and I think we’ve already established I know it and you know it, but geez, all you hockey players can talk about is hockey, and I get enough of that at home.”
“For what I had in mind, there wouldn’t be any talking at all.” Shit. I don’t know if this is teasing him or me because now I’m imagining doing very hot things to him.
He laughs out loud. I’m starting to think I should be offended.
“Do lines like that really work?” he asks.
“You tell me.” I shift back in my seat and don’t miss the way he eyes my long torso.
His Adam’s apple bounces, and he looks away. “Like I said. Jocks aren’t my type.”
“What about emotionally unavailable guys who treat people like shit? Because I’m that too. Don’t pigeonhole me, dude.”
“Sorry, that doesn’t really do it for me either.”
“Shame. I’m really good at sex.”
“Sure you are. Like you’re super good at communicating.”
“I speak words good.”