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)
“I’m a hockey player. I know how to shield my emotions. I didn’t show anything.”
“Yeah, me too, dickhead. That’s how I know what you’re up to.” He gives a chin nod. “What’s the story?”
I fiddle with a coaster, stalling. Is this part of being vulnerable? Fuck if I know. Before I can respond though, the bartender arrives with my scotch.
After I thank him, I knock back some liquor, then meet Corbin’s eyes. “Yes. I’m into someone, and it’s fuck-all complicated, and that’s all I’m going to say.”
I don’t tell him anything more. It’s not because Jason’s his agent too. It’s because it’s not my story to tell. It’s Isla’s, and she won’t want me breathing a word of it. Which means this whole practice date thing has to stay on the down-low. ’Tis the season for secrets, I suppose. Except, that doesn’t entirely sit right with me. Especially since I don’t think Isla’s into the whole forbidden thing. Sure, we had that night at the Candy Cane Diner, but that was before I hoisted her against the exterior wall of her parents’ house and grinded against her in the dark. If we keep this up like I want, will she have a hard time explaining—to anyone—what we’re up to? Isla prefers to be on the up and up. And won’t practice-dates feel a little like sneaking around?
I set those thoughts aside for now though as Corbin lifts his beer in a toast. “To…second chances?”
I shudder but clink my glass to his.
Yeah, this is going to be the toughest date of my life. Isla gave me a challenge I’m not sure I can meet.
As I shoot the breeze with Corbin about hockey and the Christmas carolers, the words second chances echo in my brain.
Insistent.
Like a reminder of something to do.
When Corbin says he needs to take off to meet some friends, I’m a little relieved he won’t be here when Isla arrives. He is good at reading people. What if he can read her? That might make Isla feel…uncomfortable about all these secrets.
The seed of an idea takes root.
“Good luck with your complicated thing,” he says as he pushes away from the bar. “Also, I was right. I was right. I was fucking right.”
“Get out of here.”
“So you can watch the door and pine for your mystery woman.”
I have no choice but to flip him the bird. As he leaves, he mimes checking the entryway.
Maybe I’ll order another round of carolers for him.
As I settle the tab, the idea starts to take shape a little more. It doesn’t solve the vulnerability issue, but maybe it solves another issue—one of vulnerability for her?
My phone buzzes, and it’s Isla.
Isla: I’m over in the corner in a booth. You were with a friend, so I didn’t want to bug you.
She was early after all. I spot her easily, her head bent over a book—something with a red and pink cover. Her chestnut hair cascades over her shoulders, and she sweeps it off her face as she reads. She looks incredible: lips glossy, hair shiny, pink sweater screaming date night. The entire ensemble is like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. When I reach the table, Isla looks up. Nerves flicker across those blue eyes. But hope, too, chased with longing. Her eyes sweep up and down me quickly, and they tell me she’s remembering the other night up against the house.
Yep, I’m pretty sure my idea could protect her too.
“Ready for practice?” she asks.
I’m ready all right. To be vulnerable. Maybe not in the way she asked for. But in another way. It’s a way that I’m pretty sure we both want.
I push the nascent idea to the back of my mind for now. First things first.
I sit next to her, leaving no space between us. My thigh touches hers. I cut to the chase. “You said to be vulnerable. Here goes,” I say, taking a beat and a breath, and maybe, possibly, letting the anticipation I see in her eyes build even more. “I want to kiss you until you can’t think straight, undress you by the fire till you’re hotter than the flames, and devour you under the mistletoe all night long.”
29
GET A ROOM
ISLA
Rowan has to pick up his daughter in a little less than an hour. Where exactly can a woman get devoured under the mistletoe all night long on short notice?
The moment the door to the North Pole Nook swings shut behind us, Rowan says, “Are your parents home?”
“They’re binging holiday movies so they can rate them for their socials tomorrow,” I say, quickly. “They just got a new sponsor.”
“Your parents have sponsors?”
“Tinsel Takes has been trending. They find and rate all the holiday movies you could ever possibly want to watch.”
“I’ll have to check it out.”
“A Christmas jammies maker is their sponsor this week—” Why the hell am I rambling about my parents’ side hustle as we race walk down the street, passing a hot cocoa cart? Oh, right. Because we can’t go to their house to satisfy our holiday horniness.