Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Endearing?” he offers, grinning like he can see inside me, even though no one can.
“I was going to say unexpected.”
“Sure you were.”
Before I can respond, Jessica reappears, moving through the lounge with professional efficiency. “Gentlemen, we’re ready to board. Please gather your belongings and follow me to the aircraft.”
The guys start collecting their gear, the lazy afternoon energy shifting into travel mode. Tanner shoulders his bag and gives me a look that tells me the conversation isn’t over.
“You know what your problem is, Grizz?”
“I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”
We file toward the exit, following Jessica across the tarmac toward the gleaming aircraft. The thing is massive, painted in the green and black Vipers colors with the team logo emblazoned on the fuselage.
“Your problem,” Tanner continues as we climb the boarding stairs, “is that you’re used to people either kissing your ass or being intimidated by you. This Daisy PR chick? She’s doing neither and that’s got you all twisted up inside.”
“I’m not twisted up about anything.”
“Right. That’s why you spent twenty minutes telling me about a conversation that could have been summarized in two sentences.”
We step into the main cabin and the interior is right out of a five-star hotel suite. Leather seats that recline fully flat, personal entertainment systems, actual tables instead of those fold-down trays. There’s a lounge area in the back with a full bar and several flat-screens. Even after having flown on these charters since I arrived in the league almost ten years ago as an eighteen-year-old, it still surprises me just how much better flying private is.
I hadn’t even been on a plane until I was flown to the draft as a seventeen-year-old. Before that, junior hockey was long drives across the Canadian prairies in buses that had no heat during the winter and no air-conditioning during the summer.
Tanner snaps me back to the present. “Sounds like there’s some serious sexual tension between you and this Daisy chick,” Tanner opines as we settle into our seats. “Is she hot?”
“Yeah… she’s beautiful in that girl-next-door kind of way.”
Tanner snorts. “Oh yeah… definite sexual tension. And there’s only one way to solve that.”
I stare at him, completely picking up what he’s putting down. “Are you insane?”
“Think about it. She’s smart, she’s tough, she doesn’t take your shit. When’s the last time you met a woman who challenged you instead of just agreeing with everything you say?”
“She’s not a woman. She’s a complication.”
“Same thing, most of the time.”
The engines start up as the cabin crew finishes their safety preparations. Outside the window, the terminal grows smaller as we taxi toward the runway.
“Besides,” Tanner adds with that predatory grin, “hate sex is the best sex. All that aggression has to go somewhere.”
I close my eyes and lean back in my seat. It’s going to be a long flight… but Tanner’s not wrong about the hate sex.
Chapter 7
Grizz
The Texas sun blinds me the second we step off the plane. Heat rises from the tarmac in visible waves, the air thick enough to chew. Dallas greets us with a wall of humidity and a welcome committee of fans waving jerseys at the edge of the runway fence.
Tanner’s already talking about food. “Grizz, you see this new steakhouse downtown?” he says, sunglasses on, scrolling his phone. “Just opened last month. They do Wagyu flight tastings and bourbon pairings. I made a rez.”
“You really are something else, bro.”
“It’s called professionalism.”
I smirk, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “I thought professionalism was showing up to practice sober.”
He grins, shameless. “You’re confusing professionalism with moderation. Entirely different skill set.”
We pile onto the team bus that will transport us to the hotel. The guys are joking, long legs stretched out after the flight. Everyone’s in good spirits because a winning streak early in the season can turn a locker room into the most fun place in the world. Downtown Dallas flashes by through tinted windows… glass towers, wide streets, cowboy hats mixed with Teslas and boutique hotels.
When we pull up to the hotel, a throng of Vipers fans are already there, pressed against metal barricades. Mostly kids and adults wearing our jerseys, holding Sharpies and iPhones. A few hold up signs.
One reads MARRY ME GRIZZ; another says GRIZZ MODE ALWAYS ON.
I smile politely and sign a few quick signatures. I’ve learned that giving them thirty seconds now saves me thirty minutes of guilt later. Besides, if there’s a group of people who are never on my fight list, it’s the fans. They’re why I do what I do.
Inside, the air-conditioning is heavenly, and our hotel is beyond posh. Langley only books five-stars because he thinks luxury translates to loyalty, and it’s not a bad bet.
I grab my room key and head for the elevators before Tanner can start recruiting me for his evening plans.
“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging to catch me. “You’re my roommate, remember?”