Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“I didn’t get any mini donuts,” DeLuca says, pouting.
“I bought them for somebody else.”
His eyebrows go up. “I have a feeling I know who.”
“Doesn’t make you a genius.”
He tilts his head back and looks at the dark sky. “I noticed she’s not spending any more time around your sorry ass, though.”
“I noticed that, too.”
“Why do you think that is?”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling the familiar tension knot there. “She says it’s too messy, working together. That if we break up, my multimillion-dollar contract and I aren’t going anywhere, and she really needs this job. That’s all true, and I can’t change it. But it feels like we’re missing out on something huge.”
“The sex is that good, huh?”
“I don’t bang and tell.” I give him a warning look. “But good sex isn’t that hard to find. This is different.”
DeLuca studies me. “Well, did you tell her that?”
“I told her I really like her.”
“Did you say it like: ‘Hey, I really like you, there’s nobody else like you, and I haven’t felt this way since maybe not ever, and if you could give me a chance, I’ll do whatever it takes’? Or did you just say, ‘I really like you,’ and leave it hanging there like a wet towel?”
I wince. “Um. I definitely didn’t say that first thing. I’ve never said that in my life.”
He shakes his head. “She’s awfully smart, right? So she probably also noticed you don’t really date. You hook up with models and actresses and then peel them off before they get too clingy. So what does Darcy think you want her to sign up for?”
Oof. “Am I really that bad?”
“I’m not judging, E-Train. But you gotta look at it from her perspective. Tell me this—did you ask her out on a date? Like an actual date with dinner and conversation and maybe flowers?”
“Well, no. We’d had a weekend fling, and I only pressed her to upgrade it to a summer fling. I asked her to come over for dinner, and she said, ‘For Marnie’s cooking, right?’ And I said of course. And then she turned me down.”
DeLuca winces like he’s watching a car accident. “So, do I have this right? You have vague feelings of connection with Darcy that you did not articulate. Then you invited her over for takeout from your personal chef and a hookup. And then you were surprised when she said no.”
Ugh. “They’re not vague, though.” I run my hands through my hair. “I think we could be great together. I’m just not used to this kind of thing.”
“So try again. Say it louder. Say it better.”
“It’ll probably just come out sounding like drivel the second time, and then she’ll remind me that we work together and it’s messy, and I haven’t managed to solve that problem. I probably never will.”
DeLuca shakes his head. “You know what your problem is? You’re treating this like a game where you already know you’re going to lose. You’re playing defense instead of offense.”
“I’m not playing at all,” I remind him. “I was cut from the team.”
He groans. “I don’t understand you. You just spent five days defending the top spot on one of the greatest teams in hockey, Tremaine. You’re a beast, and you’re fucking fearless. But when it comes to winning over a woman who already likes you, it’s suddenly hopeless?”
“She’s not just any woman.”
“Obviously, but…” DeLuca waves his hand toward the dormitory building. “What are you going to say to all the rookies crying into their water bottles tomorrow after Coach cuts the roster in half?”
“Not to give up,” I say immediately. “To try again.”
“Exactly!”
I glance around the fire pit. “Where are the rookies, anyway? It’s much too quiet out here.”
DeLuca leans back in his chair. “I dunno. Honestly, I was enjoying the silence.”
As captain, though, I can’t take that attitude. “Excuse me a minute. I’m gonna go make sure nobody is setting the place on fire.”
“Godspeed.”
It takes me a minute, but I find the rookies in the dormitory kitchen. They’ve picked the lock on the door, and they’re eating chocolate chips straight out of a bag like animals. Calder’s got chocolate smeared on his chin, and another kid is trying to see how many chips he can balance on his tongue.
“Captain!” one of them crows. “We’re gonna have a chocolate-eating contest. You can referee.”
“No! No contests,” I bark. “Because one of you will hurl, and I’ll feel obligated to clean up after you.”
“But these are mini chocolate chips,” one of them says. “They go down easy.”
I pick up one of the bags and inspect it. “Mini chips… Does anybody know how to make chocolate chip cookies?”
“Yo, Cap,” Calder says. “My mom taught me when I was little. The recipe is legit right on the bag. It’s actually fire.”
I snap my fingers. “Excellent. You can help me make a batch of mini cookies with mini chips. I want ’em no bigger than a half dollar.”