Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Chapter Nine
Aspen
"Are you finished pouting yet?"
I turn a dark glower on Noah. "I'm not pouting. I'm annoyed. There's a difference, you know."
"If you say so." His lips twitch, letting me know he doesn't believe me.
"You and Jack aren't allowed to be friends. You're bossy enough on your own."
"You're just mad because he's on my side."
"He's only on your side because he likes your team."
Noah grins at me. "So you're big mad, huh?"
"Yes! I don't see why I can't work for two hours while you go to practice. It's not like I was alone," I complain, tossing my head back against the seat rest. "Jack is there. There are customers. No one is going to try to shoot me in a store full of customers, Noah."
"When we tell Nash what happened, I'd like to be able to tell him that I didn't let you out of my sight until we had a bodyguard sitting outside your door, Dimples. Otherwise, he's going to be pissed that I didn't tell him immediately."
"I thought you said you weren't spying for him."
"I'm not, but this isn't something you just fail to mention."
He's right. This is major. But I'm not over the fact that Jack basically kicked me out of the shop and Noah helped. Having them on the same team is highly inconvenient for me. I can only imagine how much worse it'll be if Nash gets wind of the fact that I'm buying the shop and tries to pick up his life to move here. I'll never have a moment's peace.
"What kind of favor do you owe my brother, anyway?" I ask Noah. He never did tell me.
"I don't owe him a favor."
"So you agreed to keep an eye on me for the fun of it?" I blink at him. "There's no way you're that bored."
He laughs quietly, rolling to a stop at the light outside the arena. "I'm not bored at all. But he's a friend and I know how important you are to him."
"Well, that's kind of a letdown," I mutter, making him laugh again. "You don't even have useful dirt on him that I can use against him later." I glance at him curiously. "Does he have any on you?"
"Nah," he says, pulling into the parking lot of the arena. "I'm very well-behaved."
"Right," I snort, not believing that for a minute. "I bet your teammates have all kinds of dirt on you." I smile at the prospect. "Huh. Being dragged here against my will is starting to look promising."
"Don't believe anything they tell you," he says, pulling into a spot at the back of the arena. There are a few other vehicles already in the lot. "Especially not the big one."
"The big one? Uh, have you looked at the roster lately? You're all big, Noah."
"I'm talking about Atlas. He's insane."
"That's basically a prerequisite for being a goalie," I remind him. Nash tells me stories about the goalies all the time. As far as I can tell, they're all crazy. I think it's because they spend so much time in the goal with nothing to do but talk to themselves.
"He's the reason I have a tattoo on my ass."
I stop in the act of unbuckling my seatbelt. "What?"
"It's a long story."
"I've got time."
"He wanted Mexican food, which he can apparently only get in actual Mexico," Noah says. "Don't ask me why because I don't know. So he dragged my ass down the Nuevo Laredo on our first weekend off. Tequila is fucking stronger there. A lot stronger."
I burst into laughter. "Tequila is not stronger in Mexico, Noah."
"It is if you drink enough of it," he mutters. "We drank way too goddamn much of it. The next thing I know, I'm at the hotel, staring at a hockey puck tattooed on my ass."
I laugh so hard I can't breathe. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as I try to picture him trying to figure out what happened.
"It's not funny. The damn thing says Get Pucked."
"No, it doesn't."
"It does."
"Stop," I wheeze, pretty sure I'm going to die if I don't breathe soon. "Oh my God. I'm telling everyone."
He growls, reaching over the console to drag me into his arms.
"I will spank your gorgeous ass if you tell a soul," he vows, but he's smiling so the threat isn't very effective. It's even less effective since I kind of like the thought of him spanking me. "You're taking that secret to the grave, baby."
"Maybe," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck. I pull him down toward me, eager to feel his lips against mine again. I might be addicted to his kisses. Who am I kidding? I think I'm addicted to him. He's slipped seamlessly into my life, turning it upside down and inside out.
He's changing me in ways I didn't expect. It's profound and subtle at the same time. I feel more like me than I think I ever have before. I'm less alone than I have been in two years, but I feel more in control of my future than ever. As if some part of me instinctively knows that he's what led me here. This is what I was running toward.