Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
“You kept us on our toes,” Brittany adds, sounding earnest.
“And you’re the cutest,” Tiffany says then turns to Corbin. “I just love the way you said Good job to Mabel every time.”
Brittany smiles my way. “And you were like We can do this to him.”
Huh. We said that? I barely realized. But that is pretty nice. I steal a glance at Corbin, and the shock in his eyes disappears, replaced with…affection when he looks at me. He steps closer, drapes an arm around me, and drops a quick kiss to my cheek. “Because I love doing things with you,” he says, and it’s for them.
I know it is.
But it feels like it’s for me.
I lean into his side embrace, enjoying this part of the fake date so much. He drops his nose into my hair again. I swear he can’t stop doing that. After a quick hit, he pulls back and breathes out, like he’s inhaled relaxation and sunshine.
Brittany and Tiffany coo. “Aww, I just love this. Are you going to his game tonight? You two are so encouraging,” Brittany says.
“You’re couple goals,” Tiffany adds.
I wasn’t planning to, but I kind of like the sound of it.
“I love it when she comes to my games,” Corbin jumps in, giving a squeeze of my shoulder and leaving the invitation in my…court.
It feels like a real invitation, so I RSVP. “The bakery closes at six, so I’ll be there.”
“Wearing my jersey,” he adds, in that possessive tone that sends sparks down my spine.
Tiffany waves to Ronnie. “Picture time.”
We smile for the camera, and all of the smiles, from all four of us, feel strangely real.
It’s weird. But weird good.
“I’ll tag you and mention your smash cakes. You were such good sports,” Brittany says after Ronnie tucks the phone away.
“That would be amazing,” I say, since publicity is publicity.
“And we’re so glad you aren’t sad,” Brittany adds, patting my arm.
“Ronnie, we can’t stand Dax,” Tiffany says. “Can you please tell Romance Beach he’s such a tool?”
Ronnie laughs. “I have no say over that show, and you know it.”
“But tell them we don’t like him. We do love Mabel though,” she adds.
“I’ll pass it on.” Ronnie offers me a hand and I shake. “You really are a good sport. And your smash cake is shockingly brilliant. I underestimated you.”
That makes losing worthwhile. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
They leave, and once they’re gone, I turn to Corbin, whispering in awe, “He just apologized.”
“As he should,” Corbin says, but I’m not sure I agree.
“I don’t think you’re wrong, and on the one hand, Ronnie was harsh that day,” I say, then blow out a breath, and face the facts head-on. “But I was impulsive. I was also distracted. I think I’m doing a better job now managing…well, managing myself.”
“Fair enough,” he says.
I pause, noodle on that a few seconds more. “And I think it’s because of you.”
He shoots me a curious look. “How so?”
“You have a calming effect on me,” I admit. But he’s giving me more than that. His faith has been a boon to my self-confidence.
His lips quirk up in a smile but then it burns off. “I was hoping to have a horny effect on you.”
“You have that too, but you also have a calming effect. It’s a compliment. Accept it.”
A hint of a smile returns. He tucks a strand of my hair over my ear. “I accept. And I’ll see you tonight. In my jersey.”
A real invitation indeed.
35
THE HAPPINESS EFFECT
CORBIN
It’s funny how at the beginning of the season something felt slightly off on the ice. Like we’d lose a few more face-offs than normal. Like we’d be a millimeter late skating past the neutral zone.
Tonight, my blades are a step ahead. I slice through the ice, a spray shooting off them as I curve around the back of the net, evading a Sea Dogs defender—none other than my friend Tyler Falcon. Tonight, he’s my enemy.
And man, it feels extra satisfying to fly past him and around to the front of the net where Lake’s signaling he’s open.
I slip the puck to our winger and he’s ruthless, gunning right for the spot between the goalie’s legs. But the goalie drops down to his knees and blocks it, sending it back to the ice with a flick of his wrist.
No big deal. We’ll get another chance.
Tyler reaches for the rebound, jamming his stick into the middle of the action.
But nope. I’m feeling possessive tonight. That’s mine. That’s my chance. I want it now.
I strip it away from him since…fuck pickleball losses. This is the game that matters.
Ivan cuts off Tyler, slipping me the puck with ease. I spin around, scan the ice. The net’s in my sight. Their goalie, Max Lambert, is a formidable beast though, shifting back and forth, guarding his property.
Now’s not the time to mess up a chance. But Riggs is open so I feed him the puck, staying close.