Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
He grins at me, wiping a washcloth across his forehead to catch the sweat. “Figured I should spruce the place up a bit. It’s not every day an NHL player picks my daughter up for a date.”
“That’s great, Dad. Thanks.” I get a bottle of water from the fridge. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope, I got it. You look nice, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“The guys are coming by later; hope that’s okay.”
Oh crap. I didn’t even think about that. I manage to smile and tell my dad it’s fine, but inside I’m just praying Don doesn’t lay into Victor about a mistake he made in a game once. When it comes to his sports teams, Don neither forgives nor forgets.
I don’t have long to worry about it. When there’s a knock on the door at 6:00 p.m. sharp, I grab my handbag and hurry into the living room. There’s no hope of scooting out of here quickly, though.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Victor is saying as he shakes my dad’s hand.
“You too. Come on in.”
Don’s the first one off of the couch, and his eyes are shining with excitement. “Victor, it’s a real pleasure. I’m a lifelong Blaze fan.”
Victor smiles as he shakes hands with the guys. “Fantastic, thanks for your support.”
“Hey,” I say, my coat and bag in hand.
Victor turns away from the guys to face me. “Hi.” He grins, but makes no move to touch me. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“You kids have time for a beer before you go?” Dad asks.
It’s the last thing I really want, but I know it would mean a lot to my dad, so I appreciate it when Victor readily agrees and accepts the cold can of Old Style my dad passes him.
“You guys are having a great season,” Dad says, gesturing for Victor to sit on the couch.
“Hey, thanks. You must be the one who taught Lindy about hockey.”
“Oh, yeah.” Dad gives me a warm look. “She was always my little game-watching buddy. Brought a note home from her teacher in third grade ‘cause she got in trouble for saying the Bears got fucked in the ass in the playoffs. No idea where she picked that up.”
Everyone laughs, although mine is a half-hearted please don’t let this get any more humiliating kind of chuckle.
“Hey, you guys got that new goalie watchin’ film?” Chuck asks Victor. “He doesn’t seem to know his forwards like West does.”
Victor shakes his head. “Jonah’s one of the best. We really miss him.”
“When’s he coming back, anyway?” Don asks. “We need him.”
“Hopefully soon.”
Victor handles more questions and advice with ease, and as soon as he finishes his beer, Dad stands up and says, “We’ll let you kids get out of here. You got better things to do than hang out with a bunch of old-timers.”
“Bye, Dad.” I give him a quick hug. “Bye guys.”
Everyone shakes Victor’s hand again, and we’re almost out the door when Don says, “Victor, be good to our girl or we’ll beat the shit out of you with a lead pipe.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence before Dad laughs and says, “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
“I hope not,” Don concedes. “But I do have a lead pipe in my garage. Just sayin’ is all.”
He sips his beer, as casual as if he was discussing the weather. I grab Victor’s arm and hustle him out to the front porch.
“I’m sorry,” I say, cringing.
“What for? That was great.”
I scoff. “Have you ever picked a woman up and been threatened before?”
He waves a hand dismissively. “They’re just looking out for you. They seem like a good bunch.”
He takes my hand as we walk down the stairs and escorts me around to the passenger side of his black SUV. After situating himself in the driver’s side seat, he looks at me with a smile and reaches into the back seat.
“Before we go, I have something for you.”
He grabs a big, rectangular box wrapped in shiny silver paper and a big red bow. I flush with surprise as he passes me the gift.
“Oh wow. Thank you.”
It’s the most beautifully packaged present I’ve ever seen. I run my hand over the smooth wrapping, admiring it.
“Open it,” he says, giving me an impatient look.
I tear into the paper, revealing a plain white box. When I pull the top off, I find a charcoal-colored wool coat with black buttons and a silvery-white faux-fur-trimmed hood.
“Oh my gosh.” I take it from the box, shocked by his generosity. “This is for me?”
“It is; do you like it?”
“I love it. It’s…it’s absolutely gorgeous and I love it. Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He starts the car and looks over at me, winking. “But you’re still welcome to borrow mine anytime.”
I put the coat on as soon as we get to the downtown pub we’re eating at. It fits perfectly, and is hands down the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.