Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Rowan has the decency to wince. “Shit,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand across his beard. “I didn’t mean…It’s just…”
I won’t let him ruin my night though. I smile even wider than before. “And I guess we’ll find out who’ll bid on…fucking romance.”
I spin on my heel and let the noise of the party pull me back to the crowd of guests and the task at hand—mingling and networking. I’m determined to prove Cupid’s Confidante is more than just a clever name—and no grumpy hockey player soured on love will bring me down.
3
CHRISTMAS CAROL TORTURE AND OTHER WINNING BIDS
ROWAN
Good thing she walked away. If Isla had stayed around any longer, some of her niceness might’ve rubbed off on me. Can’t have that happening.
But I do need to track her down later. Apologize for my rude comment about the matchmaking package, even though I didn’t know that was her company. Though, probably to her, the crime’s the same—dissing love.
For now, though, her walking away gives me the chance to check out her ass, which looks phenomenal with that black pencil skirt hugging her curves just right. Her chestnut hair spills down her back in glossy waves, and there’s a spring in her step. Of course. She’s unrepentantly upbeat even as she disappears into the crowd, a sea of sparkly dresses and sleek black suits swallowing her up.
Once she’s out of sight, I figure it’s time to track down my friends.
Rolling my shoulders, I shake off the lingering effects of my interaction with the sexy-as-sin sister of my best-friend-slash-agent, who picked me up and made me get my act together when my life went sideways. As I cut through the crowd, my phone pings with a text.
I pull it out, hoping it’s Mia. She’s spending the evening with my mom, but she likes to text me cheesy dog and cat jokes.
Last night, she cracked herself up with: Why did the Chihuahua bark at the stranger? It needed a break from barking at the lamppost.
But instead of my daughter’s, Jason’s name flashes on the screen. Shit. Does he know I was admiring how good his sister looks in that skirt?
No, you idiot, he can’t read your mind.
Still, I click open the message cautiously.
Jason: Checking out the auction catalogue and I decided you have to bid on the Christmas train ride in Evergreen Falls.
I scoff. Does he really think I’d do that? Before I can type a snarky reply, another message pops up.
Jason: One, it’s one of your hometowns. Two, Mia will love it.
Jason: Just try to prove me wrong.
He’s fast, shooting me down before I can shoot him down, even though I wouldn’t call Evergreen Falls one of my hometowns. I just happen to own a cabin there. Still, he’s right that Mia would love that. She’s into all forms of transportation—ferry rides are a favorite. But Mia also understands that Christmas isn’t exactly a big deal for me, so she totally gets why that would never happen.
Rowan: Nice try, but my kid’s smart enough to know Santa’s not real, and life’s better when you’re realistic.
Jason: Santa’s not real?! Great, now you’ve crushed my dreams too. Bid on the damn train ride, Scrooge.
Rowan: Is that an order from my agent? Because I was thinking of the women’s hockey tix. Gotta support the ladies we share the ice with.
Jason: Here’s a novel idea—bid on both. And yes, that’s an order.
We’ll see about that. I tuck my phone away, smooth a hand over my dark gray shirt, and scan the room for Miles and Tyler. I find them chatting with their partners—Miles with Leighton, who’s got a camera slung around her neck and is snapping pics, and Tyler with Sabrina. Behind them, in a corner, I spot more of my teammates. Looks like the whole gang’s here. Still, they’re Christmas-ing it up, goofing around and posing for pics on a Santa-style grand red chair, so I’m not particularly tempted to hang out with them. Which means…I’m free to pop in my earbuds. I check the time. I’ve got a few minutes before the bidding starts.
But just as the smooth, warm voice of the host of The Competitive Edge podcast begins talking about the psychology of elite performance, Leighton waves at me, waggling her camera.
Ah, hell.
I turn off the podcast and weave through the crowd, nodding politely at sponsors in their fancy suits and sequined dresses. By the time I reach my friends, Leighton’s ready.
“Picture time,” she announces.
Before I can protest, Miles raises a hand. “I know pics at galas are on your annual grievances list,” he says.
I shoot him a what gives look. “I don’t have a list.”
Miles snorts. “Right.”
“I don’t!”
“Rowan has a hate list?” Sabrina asks eagerly.
“Of course he does, babe,” Tyler says to her.
“I need to know more,” Sabrina says. “Every detail.”
“Don’t feed the animals at the zoo,” Tyler tells her.