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)
“I have no idea.” She suddenly bursts into hysterical laughter that has me and Riggs glancing at each other in concern for her mental well-being. “I turned. My phone. Off,” she manages to huff out between giggles. “I’ve never done that. Ever.”
“Shit, girl. Your brother’s definitely gonna SWAT us and take us down for kidnapping.” I look at the dark woods around us dramatically. “What was that?” I jerk my head the other way. “Did you hear that?”
“Don’t panic, but there’s a red light on your forehead.” She taps her own forehead, right in the middle. “It’s probably fine, though, right?” She laughs harder, louder… lighter.
Kayla Harrington is like an entirely different woman out here in the woods, where the rules and restrictions of the city and her life fall away. She’s always beautiful, especially when she’s expertly cutting someone who’s gotten too big for their britches down to their appropriate size, but this bare-faced, laughing, dare I say, giddy woman at my side? Stunning.
Still, I worry that her pendulum is swinging too far the other way… too far away from her comfort zone, where she cares what her family thinks first and what she feels second. And when a pendulum swings one way, it inevitably goes back before finding a point of balance.
“Totally fine. But maybe I’m gonna go inside for a few minutes, just to, you know, let them target Riggs first. I don’t have to be the fastest. Just gotta be faster than him.” I give my larger, but slower, friend a sly smirk. I could outrun him with both arms tied behind my back. Hell, I could outrun him with one leg tied behind my back.
As she starts to get herself back under control, Kayla waves her hands. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore. I want to talk about… you two. Or hockey. It’s off-season now, but tell me what life’s like when the season starts.”
The question is casual as can be, but it puts ideas into my head. Ideas like what it’ll be like to leave her for a stretch of away games, and I already don’t like it. Sure, according to the guys on the team, the best part of away games is the coming home reunions, but you know what’s better than haven’t-seen-you-in-days sex? Sex every damn day.
“Well, in addition to our daily workouts, I usually spend the off-season studying. I watch last season’s games on a loop, dissecting my play, the Devils’ play, and other teams’ plays. After the draft, I’ll do the same with the college kids who got drafted so I know what they’re bringing to the ice. I learn and improve, find weak spots and fix them if they’re my own, or make plans to exploit them if they’re someone else’s. That way, I’m ready to hit the ice, fresh physically and prepared mentally.”
“Usually?” she asks, catching that little nugget.
“I seem to be a bit distracted this time.” She’s wearing a soft-looking sweater set to ward off the night’s chill, but even covered, I let my eyes trace over her body slowly, enjoying every inch. Even the ones I have to imagine beneath the knit fabric. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s been my best off-season yet.” I flash her a cocky smirk, imagining I can see a blush on her cheeks, but it’s probably the glow of the fire since Kayla wouldn’t blush about a damn thing, especially a compliment she deserves.
“I spend my off-season healing up any injuries, then focus on strengthening and flexibility so I don’t reinjure myself during the season. Lather, rinse, repeat.” Riggs rolls his shoulder, probably not even aware he’s unconsciously checking it. He’s been religiously doing his physical therapy and Zeke says it’s good, but I watch his face for any sign of pain. Thankfully, I don’t see any.
“We’ll report for training camp in September, have a few weeks of practice with the rookies and special teams and do a few exhibition games. Then, the real fun starts. We’ll play eighty-two games from October to April, then, assuming we make the playoffs…” I pause to send a glance skyward and cross my fingers. “That goes until June.”
Kayla listens silently, but I can see calendar pages virtually flying around in her head.
“About half those are on our ice, so we play, shower, and drive home,” Riggs says, trying to minimize how insane our schedule sounds. “The other half… the team has a rule about sleeping in our own beds whenever possible, so we fly out after the games. We get home, but it’s not the same as if we had a nine-to-five.” His jaw is stone, and I know he’s remembering how Eliza would bitch about him waking her up when he got in late, to the point he often resorted to sneaking in as quietly as possible and sleeping in the guest room of his own house.