Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74956 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes. “A real genius would have thought of the whole ‘getting out’ part.” I turn back to Tank, my brows pinching together. “How did you know to come down here, anyway?”
He clears his throat, paling as he shrugs. “I don’t know. I just had a feeling someone might be...” He waves his hand vaguely. “I don’t know. It sounds crazy, but I had a feeling. So, when Coach ended the meeting early, I came straight here.”
“You had a feeling?” I ask, as the hair lifts on the back of my neck. “What do you mean you—”
“Hey, is everyone okay down there?”
We turn to see Grammercy jogging down the hall toward us, his Louisiana drawl thick with concern.
“I just had the weirdest feeling someone was stuck down here,” he adds. “Like a voice in my head saying to come check the storage room in case some other poor soul was trapped.”
Stone and I exchange wide-eyed looks as Tank mutters, “You too?”
“Me too, what?” Grammercy asks, slightly out of breath as he reaches us. “Y’all okay? I got stuck in here last week. Just about lost my shit and had to pee in my water bottle.”
“We know,” Tank, Stone, and I say in unison.
“Yeah, Stone and I got locked in while he was helping me grab a box from one of the higher shelves,” I lie, cutting a glance toward the open door. “Then, we realized we’d both misplaced our phones, and couldn’t call for help…”
“Yeah, me too,” Grammercy says. “And I never take my phone out of my pocket, y’all. I swear, I think that poltergeist snatched it out of my bag or something.”
An awkward silence falls as we exchange spooked looks and the fluorescent light overhead flickers once, twice, before it steadies.
“Let’s get the heck out of here,” Grammercy whispers. “Coach is going to be way less pissed when he finds out you weren’t late, just the latest victim of…whatever lives in there.”
“Or died in there,” Tank mutters, in a thin voice that isn’t like him.
“Right.” Stone straightens, his professional mask sliding into place. “I’ll just grab my phone from the bathroom and meet you guys in the locker room in a few.”
“I’ll walk with you.” Tank claps him on the shoulder. “Make sure you don’t get locked in there, either.”
As they head down the hall, Grammercy between them, Stone glances back at me. Just for a second, just long enough to shoot me a look that makes my heart race for reasons scarier than a hockey storage room haunting.
It’s a look that says we’ll talk later, because we clearly have unfinished business.
I take a breath and then, after a beat, I head for the second floor to start my day. But my mind is already racing ahead.
To tonight. To the conversation Stone and I need to have.
The one about where we go from here.
But I’m not scared about that anymore. Okay, maybe I’m still absolutely terrified, but in a good way, like I used to feel stepping onto the ice for a big game. Nervous energy mixed with excitement, and the hope that something amazing is about to happen.
That I’m going to make something amazing happen because I have the skills to pay the bills.
And Stone is part of the reason I have those skills.
He isn’t just my fuck buddy anymore. He isn’t even just the guy who makes me laugh or helps me remember how to have fun.
He’s a man who sees me, challenges me, and makes me want to be brave. Who makes me think that maybe I’m more than a one-trick pony. Maybe I can have ambition and ease, drive and play, professional success and personal connection.
For the first time in my life, I’m at least ready to try.
Even if it means breaking a few of my rules along the way.
Chapter 10
Stone
I’m good at a lot of things.
I can grow a patchy beard in under a week, arrange flowers like a boss, and make a mean omelet. I’m a gifted athlete, possessed of a solid sense of humor, and can win the heart of any dog with an ounce of common sense in sixty seconds or less.
But lying to Coach Lauder?
That’s not my forte.
Or my favorite way to start a week…
“I really am sorry about missing the meeting,” I say, holding his steely gaze across the desk in his office in the corner of the locker room. Our old head coach had an office upstairs in the admin area with tons of windows and a view of the river. But Lauder likes to be down here, in the thick of things, where he can keep an eye on us. “I know how much you value punctuality. When I realized we were locked in, I felt terrible.”
“That storage room door has been a pain in my ass for months.” Coach leans back, his chair creaking beneath his solid frame. His eyes narrow behind his wire-rimmed glasses, but his gruff tone isn’t as pissed sounding as I expected it to be. He almost sounds a little…amused. Or as amused as Coach ever gets, anyway. “Remy texted a minute ago. Mentioned you were helping her grab some boxes for that kids’ program?”