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)
I shrug and take a seat, pretending to be bored while a flicker of irritation sparks inside me. “The part where I’m old enough to make my own choices.”
“Kole.”
“Dad.”
He shoves a hand through his hair. “I thought you hated hockey. What’s going on here?”
“I do hate hockey. Playing it, anyway. Watching isn’t so bad.”
“I just don’t get it. You’re a smart kid. What the hell could a hothead—a talented hothead—like Asher Dalton have to interest you?”
I’m thinking his dick isn’t the correct answer here. I drop the flippant attitude. “He’s not always like that. The guy he shows you and the team is a front. It’s because he wants to keep his distance. With me, with his family, he’s a completely different person.”
Dad changes track. “You’re premed. You need to be focused on that. Asher’s a distraction.”
“We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now, and I was helping him study before that. I’m still top of my class. I’m keeping up. If you want to talk distractions and time wasters, I’d argue that picking up sweaty jocks and weekend trips away are a bigger distraction than a boyfriend.”
That makes him hesitate. “I … I thought it might be a way for us to spend some time together.”
“I know you did.” Like Asher, people only see the surface level with Dad. He’s gruff and focused, but underneath he’s a giant teddy bear. “And we have. It’s been good. But you can’t use the excuse of me needing to focus on school instead of Asher when you have me doing that. Especially because we both know we wouldn’t be having this conversation if it wasn’t Asher.”
He darts a quick look at me and away again. “You can quit the equipment manager thing.”
“No. A bet’s a bet. And I’ve liked spending time with you too. But Asher and I aren’t breaking up.”
“I’d say he doesn’t seem like your type, but when it comes to people who are helpless or lost, they’re the ones you can never resist.”
I’d thought that about Asher at first too. “The fact you think he’s either of those things proves you don’t know him at all.”
“And you do?”
“Maybe better than anyone.”
Dad scoffs.
“I know you think I’m being naïve, but you can just go ahead and think that, old man. Because when we go back out there, you’re going to treat Asher like you would any other boyfriend I brought home. You’re going to be embarrassing and intimidating, but you’re going to make him feel welcome. For me.”
“You’re too much like your mother.”
I jump from my seat and round the desk. Dad looks surprised at first as I grab him in a rough hug and rock him back and forth in the most patronizing way I can manage. He pats my elbow, and when I think I’ve made him uncomfortable enough, I pull away.
“Oh, and I have a favor.”
“Uh-oh.”
I leave the office and dart upstairs, before returning with a wrapped package.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“A sweater that matches ours. Mom got it for him.”
“No.”
“Yep. You’re going to give it to him.”
“There is no way in hell.”
I pretend to pout. “If Mom finds out we didn’t give it to him, she’ll be pissed. And I can’t since Asher and I agreed to no presents. You don’t want me to make him feel bad on Christmas, do you?”
He gives me a flat look.
“It’s Christmas. Besides, it’ll mean so much more coming from you.”
“Give me strength,” Dad says, running a hand down his face. “I’m still not sure I even like the idea of you two together.”
“Do you like the idea of me being happy?”
He sighs, knowing I’ve got him. “Pulling out the big guns, huh?”
“Whatever it takes.”
He tosses the present on his desk, and I go to leave, but I’m still not sure he gets it. Not fully. The last impression I want him to have is that this is some kind of fling, or me acting out, or—I shudder—that Asher is a pet project.
I catch my breath, then slowly let it all out again. “This is, umm …” Serious? I hope so. “I really like him. A lot. I don’t know if we’ll make it long term or whatever, because there’s still a lot to figure out there, but when we’re together, it’s sort of hard to remember what it was like before him. I don’t want to remember. Please don’t screw this up for me.”
He glances toward the hall where the unmistakable sounds of Em and Ben fighting echo toward us. “You better get back out there before he works himself into a fit, worrying about what we’re talking over in here.”
I let out a small laugh. “Don’t act like that’s not exactly what you wanted.”
“You said I can still be intimidating.” He stands, and I don’t miss that he picks up the present. “Can’t have him thinking that dating my son will cut him a break on the ice. We have a season to win.”