Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
She lifts her glass in appreciation, then goes on with her story, still laughing. “They went through with it! Can you believe that? Fake dating arrangement and all, he and Luna showed up to the Cartwright estate with a stupid, albeit cute, dog in tow. And like it always does for golden-boy Carter, it worked out.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “He privately manages Elena Cartwright’s investments now and Luna takes care of her art collection.”
Maddox chuckles. “I’d say it more than worked out.”
“So, it’s only you and Cameron at Blue Lake?” I ask, making mental notes about her family like I’m studying tapes of an upcoming playoff opponent on the way to the Cup.
So far, I’ve gathered that Carter and Luna fell in love through a fake dating scenario, Cameron and Kayla both work at Blue Lake, staying out of each other’s way while trying to best their father’s legacy, Cole is Kayla’s twin and is apparently a bit terrifying (which is laughable considering she’s also scary as hell), Chance is some sort of do-gooder, buttoned-down, Boy Scout type, and Kyle is renovating his house, adding a dog wash station and a water bubbler to further spoil his already-spoiled dog.
Kayla has been regaling us with stories about her family, who seem to be the most important people in her life, given they’re all she’s talked about. No work, no friends, no favorite sports team, just various stories of her family. They’re her whole circle, her reason for being, her everything. In some ways, I get it. Maddox and I have to be super careful about who we let into our inner circle too, especially since history has proven that to some people, we’re not much more than a ticket to a life they want. I’m sure that’s even more so the case when your last name is Harrington, like Kayla’s. There’s no ‘meeting someone random at Starbuck’s and becoming besties’ when you’re the walking, talking embodiment of rich and powerful.
Even so, she’s been very open with us, almost as though her deepest, most important need is a connection outside of her tightknit group. Or maybe just a different type of connection.
Of course, it was awkward at first, but Maddox did the heavy lifting of getting Kayla and me out of our shells and keeping the conversation going about something other than sex, which was difficult when Kayla kept moaning at how good everything tasted, especially the chocolate mousse dessert Maddox slipped her a taste of… from his tongue. I had said—completely seriously—that I knew something that tasted better and I’d been craving it for months. Kayla had blushed at first, but she came back strong, telling me to be a good boy and maybe I’d get a treat. It'd nearly done both Maddox and me in. So, carrying on a normal conversation is a serious win in my book.
“Yes, the lone remaining loyalists. At least according to my dad,” she says wistfully, her hand to her chest. But, very intentionally changing the subject from her father, she points from me to Maddox. “Enough about me. Tell me more about you two, like how this happened? And I don’t want the internet version.”
“You looked us up?” Maddox asks, flashing a pride-filled grin. “Did you see my stats last season? Best ever… to date.”
I shouldn’t be surprised. Hell, with the type of family she has, I wouldn’t be surprised if a full, FBI-level background check from her apparently wound-up, control-freak brother was standard MO before any dates. But I don’t think that’s what happened. I get the feeling she was the one typing our names in and reading all about us, and that feels important. Like we passed a test, and I’d be willing to bet big that Kayla’s tests are tough. As they should be.
“Maybe,” she drawls out. “But tell me everything.” She puts her elbow on the table, rests her chin in her hand, and looks ready for a detailed storytime.
This is Maddox’s arena, not mine, so I let him take the lead. “Riggs and I drafted onto the Devils,” he starts, leaning her way. “At the time, we were young and stupid, and all our hockey dreams were coming true. We were two peas in a pod back then.” He grins at me, both of us remembering that time. “We lived, slept, and breathed hockey, every minute of every day, and because we were both rookies, we became friends, on and off the ice.”
“Wait, two peas in a pod?” Kayla repeats, doubt written in the cute crinkle of her brows. “You two?”
No one would describe us that way these days, but it was true back then. Now, we’re more the Yin and Yang of polar opposites—Mr. Congeniality and Mr. Asshole, with him obviously being everyone’s favorite charmer and me being the second one in the buy one, get one free equation of us.