Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I liked to push Maven’s buttons.
I wondered what would happen if I pushed all the right ones.
Maven tongued her cheek at me with that little input from our goaltender, and then she turned to him, extending her hand. “Thank you. I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Maven King.”
“Will Perry,” he said gruffly with a firm, short shake.
“We call him Daddy P, though,” Jaxson cut in.
Maven’s brows tugged inward. “Why?”
“Well, because he’s a daddy — like actually a dad. He has the cutest kid you’ll ever meet.”
“But also because he’s iron-fisted and hands out punishment like a dad,” Carter explained. “And he treats the puck like a boy trying to take his daughter on a date and his daughter is the net. No access granted.”
Maven’s cheeks tinged a bit pink at that, and she smiled at Will. “Daddy P. I like that.”
“We all have nicknames,” Carter said. “It’s kind of annoying, honestly, but inescapable, nonetheless.”
“What do you mean?” Maven asked.
“Well, it just sort of happens in hockey. Sometimes it’s a play on your last name, or sometimes you do one stupid thing and it becomes your identifier for years. Sometimes it’s a name earned from performance, like Daddy P is part for his last name, Perry, but also part P for Pickles.”
“Pickles?” Maven’s nose scrunched up.
“Yeah. Because he’s cool as a cucumber on the ice,” Jaxson said.
Maven laughed, and the sound was so airy and light that I wanted to bottle it up. She seemed to be relaxing the more the guys talked to her, and the bite she loved to nip me with was slowly receding, her teeth no longer bared.
“So, he’s Daddy P,” she said, pointing at Will before her finger moved to Jaxson. “And you are?”
“Brittzy,” he said. “My last name is Brittain. And then Carter here is Fabio.”
“Because of the flow,” Carter said, sliding his hand back through his medium-length brown hair before that same hand ran over his scruff. That made Will snort again and pin him with a glare.
No one had better hair than Daddy P.
“Because his last name is Fabri,” Jaxson interjected. “And because his game with the ladies is absolute shit, so calling him Fabio is ironic.”
That earned Jaxson a wet willy from across the aisle.
“And what about you?” Maven asked, finally turning to look at me. When she did, her honey golden eyes danced a little. “What’s your nickname?”
“Mr. King.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because when we get married, I already know you’re too independent to take my last name, so I guess I’ll have to take yours.”
An incredulous laugh burst from her lips, and she shook her head, folding her arms over her chest again. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”
“Like a puppy.”
“More like a dog,” she said just as quickly.
“He’s Vince Cool to the outside world, but with us, he’s Tanny Boy,” Carter said. “Because on our first night out he got wasted on car bombs at O’Briens and kept requesting ‘Danny Boy’ even though the band was playing Southern Rock, not Irish music.”
“Nah, he’s just Pidge to me,” Jaxson said, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and bringing his hands back behind his head. “Always will be.”
Maven hadn’t taken her eyes off me.
I wasn’t sure I ever could take my eyes off her.
“Pidge?” She finally asked.
“Pigeon,” I answered. “Just another word for rookie.”
“Ah,” she mused. “I like that one. Pigeon. Can I use it, too?”
“You can call me whatever you want to. Just make sure you like the name you pick.” I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice. “I have a feeling you’ll be saying it a lot. Maybe in different decibels, too. Might want to try screaming it loud and high-pitched, just to make sure it feels right.”
Maven’s cheeks reddened again, just a light pink flowing over those warm brown cheeks peppered with freckles. I smirked at the sight of that blush, but it wasn’t there long before Maven clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.
“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” she asked.
I leaned even closer. “Be honest. You would hate it if I did.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to.
The smile that played at the corner of her dusty-rose lips told me I was right.
Precious Little Rituals
Maven
Present Me never been so thankful to Past Me than I was the afternoon of the Boston game when I rolled out my yoga mat.
Past me had wondered if it would be necessary to pack, if the staff would be annoyed that I brought it, if I’d even have time to use it. But present me was sighing with relief at the small bit of normalcy as I stepped onto it.
I knew it would be impossible to meditate this morning, to find any way to clear my mind, and I had been right. Everything kicked into gear quickly, and I had barely woken up before I was on the bus with the team headed to the rink for their morning skate.