Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I widened my eyes. “Calamity.”
“Precisely. If I happen to meet my demise on the slopes, I bequeath you my editing equipment and task you with the chore of publishing my thesis in my stead.”
“You’ll survive,” I assured him with a straight face.
“Will I, though?”
“If not, I’d also like first dibs on your signed X-Men poster.”
Robin glowered without heat. “Fine. What will you do during the holiday break?”
“I’m going to Toronto.” I didn’t bother hiding my excitement. It had been three months since I’d stolen away for a weekend of apple picking, and I missed everyone terribly.
Robin pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose and smiled. “Most excellent. Give my warmest regards and felicitations to your family. How long will you be gone?”
“A week? Maybe ten days. I’m not sure,” I replied.
“Take your time. You could use the rest.”
True.
I’d spent Thanksgiving in Smithton, same as always. I hadn’t been able to justify a trip for a long weekend with finals looming. For me, it had been an ordinary Thursday.
Robin had invited me to come home with him, but I hadn’t wanted to intrude…or fly to Maine with the threat of inclement weather on the horizon. And I’d had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy to hide my near-constant communication with my “we’re only friends” booty-call with my nosy friend in close proximity.
So what was going on with Ty and me?
Well…
If you must know, I was in the midst of a secret raunchy sex-affair with the hunkiest hockey player on the planet, and it was amazing.
Not the secret part. However, the raunchy, lusty, tear-your-clothes-off-and-fuck-till-you-drop part was swoonworthy.
We were ravenous. We couldn’t be in the same room without being glued to each other. Could you blame me? Ty was anyone’s idea of a gorgeous male hunk. But every once in a while, I’d notice him staring at me as if I were something special. That was a new one for me, and I liked it.
I found myself rearranging my schedule to fit Ty’s, which was trickier than it sounded. I ran a business out of my house, for Pete’s sake, and Shay and Robin came by frequently to work on the show. They always called first, but I couldn’t chance them walking in on a porny soundtrack of, “Yes, yes, please, fuck me, Ty.”
No…no way.
Our modus operandi was to meet for coffee or lunch under the pretense of working on a segment in the new year…should anyone ask. Funny enough, no one did. If one of his teammates happened to be there, he’d invite them to join us because first and foremost, we were friends and that part of our relationship—or situationship, if you will—wasn’t a secret.
“People should know we’re friends, Red. I like you, I respect you. Why hide that?”
I’d blushed at the sentiment, even as I cautioned myself not to read too much into it. But being the object of Ty’s attention and desire made my head spin. He was a popular jock. Hockey fans of all ages adored him. He couldn’t walk anywhere on campus without someone calling his name or wishing him good luck.
Yes, I was well-known too, but I wasn’t like Ty. The world I’d created made me an outsider. I reported what others did or might want to do in Smithton, but I personally didn’t do much. My real world was painfully small. It was funny that Ty would be the one to draw me out with seemingly innocent invitations.
Meet me at Coffee Cave after class. I’m at the corner table by the window with Jett and Malcolm.
I’d stared at his text, worrying my bottom lip. Jett and Malcolm? I don’t think they want to have a latte with me.
Yes, they do. Get your fine ass over here, Red.
I’d been too distracted at the notion of sitting down with those particular friends of Ty’s to be bothered by the silly nickname. This could be a total disaster.
It wasn’t.
Jett and Malcolm were a bit of an odd couple. Jett was as tall and big as Ty with dark hair and brilliant blue eyes while Malcolm was slight, lean, and wore glasses. They looked like what they were: a hockey player and a physics professor.
I was a tad intimidated by them, but they’d been perfectly cordial. They’d asked about my classes, the house I rented, and somehow that had led to an in-depth conversation about gardening.
“I have rose bushes on the side yard, hydrangeas for days, and…peonies,” I’d gushed, aware of Ty’s knee pressed again mine. “Now it’s very blah, but you should see them in springtime.”
Malcolm had smiled. “I’m partial to hydrangeas myself. Did you know that each color has a symbolic meaning? Pink for love, blue for forgiveness, white for grace, purple for friendship, and green for renewal.”
“Green hydrangeas?” Jett had furrowed his brow. “There’s no such thing.”