Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
She sniffles. “We’ve been talking for a couple weeks, and we just exchanged pictures today. I would have met him, but when I sent him my picture, he messaged back saying, ‘I don’t date big girls, sorry. Not all guys are assholes like me.’”
Yeah, fuck Mark. He’s a clueless idiot.
“You’re beautiful. More than that—you’re a ten. It’s his loss. Don’t waste your time on Tinder bullshit.”
Her expression softens and her gaze meets mine. “I wish I didn’t care. It’s not that I need a man. But I do want ... someone, you know? I’ve been single for years, and sometimes I just want someone to hug me, or tell me we’re going on a date, or ...” She cringes, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear all this.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Her eyes are blue, and they remind me of a day at the beach when there’s not a cloud in the sky. It’s unsettling how much I want to hug her and tell her I’m taking her on a date. Have I turned into a perv who wants a younger woman to make himself feel younger?
She squares her shoulders. “It was nice of you to listen. I’ll have a pity party with my sister tonight.”
“What does a pity party involve?”
“Pajamas, wine, chips and guac from our favorite Mexican place, and ice cream. We usually watch a rom-com.”
“Give yourself tonight to feel like shit and then forget about it. Move forward.”
A smile plays on her full, pink lips. “Is that what you tell your team after a loss?”
“Might be,” I admit.
She sighs softly. “I should have introduced myself to you before I started asking the players to film stuff for me. I was just ... intimidated, I guess.”
I pinch my brows together. “Intimidated? By me?”
Her smile threatens to grow wider. “I heard you’re ... unapproachable.”
I furrow my brow. “Unapproachable?”
“Like talking to a tall, prickly cactus in a bad mood. That’s what one person said.”
“The fuck?”
Sounds like someone needs to sack up. Just because I’m direct, that doesn’t make me prickly. And if it does, I guess I’m prickly. I have shit to do and I don’t like small talk.
“So anyway, I was intimidated, which is unlike me. That was unprofessional, and I apologize.”
“We can figure it out. There are boards with plays and formations in the locker room, and we can’t have those visible in videos.”
She nods. “I understand. I’ll work with you from now on.”
I should tell her to work with one of my assistants, because it’s not in my pay grade to help the social media coordinator. But I don’t. There’s something about her coming to me for permission on a regular basis that I like.
It’s official. I’m a perv.
“We’re doing a thing at our practice facility tomorrow,” I say, taking a step back. “Talia arranged it. Me and some of the players are playing modified hockey with kids who have disabilities. Is that something you’re interested in?”
Her face lights up. “Are you serious? I’d love to be there to film. I’ll need parental consent since they’re minors, but I could call Talia and work on that tonight.”
“You can ride to Templeton with me. Meet me at my office at one.”
“Okay, see you then.”
I head for the door, turning to look at her one more time. “Enjoy the pity party.”
Her response is a soft, “Thanks.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Jules
My sister Blair is my best friend, and her sense of humor is even more irreverent than mine.
“It got a whole lot funnier once I looked him up online. He’s a zaddy.”
I pour my glass of wine to an appropriate fill line and then keep pouring. “You always know how to make me feel better.”
“Come on, Jules. That photo of you looking tragic is my new phone wallpaper. I needed something to make me smile every time I see it, and you with mascara running down your face will do nicely. Sending me that selfie was a great call.”
I went to the bathroom after Coach Turner left me in the break room earlier, and I wanted to change my identity and start a new life when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I thought I’d had the worst possible day, but no. I was mortified knowing I had stood there getting warm all over when he called me beautiful, when my eye makeup was on my cheeks.
“That mascara is getting a scathing review.”
“Are we ... sharing that glass of wine?” she quips.
I flick a glare at her. “We are not.”
“Only a little for me. I have a big test tomorrow.”
Blair is in nursing school, and she spends more time studying than she does attending classes. She worries about disappointing me, no matter how many times I tell her it’s impossible.
“If you need to study, I understand,” I say. “I can watch a movie with the boys when they get home.”