Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
The woman digs through her purse with frantic fingers before glancing at me in desperation. “You wouldn’t happen to have a Sharpie, would you?”
“Umm,” I glance around the counter before opening a drawer and pulling out a marker. “Here you go.”
She squeals before plucking it from my fingers and passing it to River. “My husband is going to die when he sees this.”
River scrawls his name across the smooth surface. “Here you go,” he says, handing it to the boy. “That’s for when you score your first goal.”
I roll my eyes before I can stop myself. Of course he has a puck on hand to give out to fans.
Who doesn’t?
And apparently, the man is also good with kids.
I hate the part of me that’s touched by the small gesture.
It annoys the hell out of me.
I don’t want to feel anything where this man is concerned.
The woman gushes for a few more minutes before pulling out her phone and asking to take a selfie, which he agrees to. After more than two dozen photos, she orders a donut for her son and then finally takes off, probably posting all the pics as she goes.
River’s gaze resettles on mine as he steps up to the counter. “Hey, Callie.”
His voice dips, turning low and intimate. The deep baritone of it wraps around me before squeezing tight. There’s a gentleness to it. For some reason, I imagine this is the exact tone he’d use when attempting to calm a skittish animal.
“Hi.” I go for cool. “What can I get for you?” When he continues to search my eyes, as if picking through all my thoughts, I blurt, “We’re kind of busy here. So…”
He breaks eye contact long enough for his gaze to drift across the now-empty tables as he pops a brow. “Really? Kind of seems like I just missed the morning rush.”
My face heats as I shift behind the counter. “I meant that we have prep to finish up.”
The corners of his mouth tip upward, as if he’s used to my iciness and doesn’t mind the burn.
“Could I get a black coffee, medium roast?” He points to the second row in the display case. “And maybe one of those cinnamon things.”
“Scones,” I say flatly.
“Yeah, a scone,” he echoes, like it’s a foreign word.
I quickly bag the pastry and hand it over, hoping to put an end to this conversation.
Instead, he continues to linger.
“So, how’ve you been?” he asks.
My hands tighten on the counter as his eyes continue to probe mine for answers I refuse to give. “I’m fine.”
What else am I supposed to say?
That I’m one bounced payment away from losing everything I’ve worked so hard for?
That I have no one to call?
No safety net to fall into?
He looks like he wants to say something else, but I turn away before he can get the words out.
A man is the last thing I need right now.
Especially one who stood on the sidelines while my life unraveled once before.
It’s a relief when the door opens again and another customer walks in.
Dismissing River, I focus my attention on the woman.
2
River
Newsflash: I don’t need or want coffee.
I don’t even like coffee.
And even though the pastries smell delicious, they’re not something I usually eat. I’m more into protein, not empty carbs.
It took me a few years, but I finally worked up the courage to stop by Lakeshore Sweets. Now, I’m here every day after practice like clockwork. I couldn’t keep myself away if I wanted to. I’m like a junkie in need of a fix. The five minutes I spend in here, or ten if I can find an excuse to linger, are the best part of my day.
I try to soak in every detail, knowing this encounter will have to sustain me until the next one.
The first time I caught sight of Callie Westbrook was years ago, when Zane started bringing her around like she was a shiny new toy he couldn’t wait to show off. What I didn’t expect was to fall for my teammate’s pretty blonde girlfriend.
I wanted her from the second she smiled politely and looked me in the eye like she had no clue how beautiful she was. And I wanted her even more with the passing of each day.
Each month.
Each year.
And don’t even get me started on when she was pregnant with another man’s child, her stomach rounded, glowing in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with Zane and everything to do with the kind of mother she’d be.
And I hated every fucking second of it.
I hated watching her in the stands during games, wearing Zane’s jersey. I hated knowing the guy couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, even when she was carrying their daughter. I hated knowing she deserved the fucking world and got so little in return from him.