Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Christ, that’s humbling when little girls are your fans, and I forget all about Farren for a few glorious moments as I squat down to chat with the tiny cutie. I sign her jersey, pose for photos, promise her that she can be a hockey player when she grows up. When they finally amble off, I look back to the VIP area, ready to make my approach, except now Farren’s gone.
A faint surge of disappointment hits me, and I scan the area. Where’d she go? Did she leave before I could talk to her?
I’m pulled by another touch to my arm and I turn to find a woman standing close, her smile as suggestive as her outfit—a Titans jersey worn as a dress, cinched at the waist with a belt, and thigh-high boots that make her legs look impossibly long. While it’s sexy as hell, it’s inappropriate given the snowy weather outside. But I suppose beauty is pain. Her red lipstick is immaculate, and her platinum-blond hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that arcs upward, then falls to her mid-back in a froth of curls.
She slides a finger down my forearm. “You were amazing tonight.”
“Thanks,” I say with a genuine smile but keep my response neutral, even as she bats her lashes.
“Can I get a selfie?” She waves her phone already in hand. She steps closer, angling herself beside me. “Do you mind?”
“No problem,” I say, though my attention is elsewhere.
She tilts her head toward me, pouting her lips playfully as the camera clicks. “Is it wrong of me to notice that you’re the hottest player on the team?” she says, her voice dropping into something I think is supposed to be sultry.
I chuckle politely, trying to extricate myself. “That’s definitely a first but I’m glad you’re a fan of the game.”
Her hand tightens on my arm as I step back. “Maybe I could buy you a drink sometime?”
Before I can respond, I catch a flash of dark hair out of the corner of my eye. More than recognizing who it is, my entire being senses a ripple in the air around me.
Farren.
She’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching the interaction with a faint smirk. There’s no jealousy in her expression, just amused indifference, which somehow twists the knife a little deeper.
The blond notices my distraction and follows my gaze. “Oh,” she says, stepping back. “Looks like you’ve got company.”
“Something like that,” I murmur, turning toward Farren as the woman disappears into the crowd.
Farren arches a brow, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re quite the ladies’ man tonight.”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess.”
She steps closer, her voice low enough so that only I can hear. “Do you even notice when someone’s throwing themselves at you? Or are you too busy signing autographs to care?”
I smirk, leaning casually against the bar. “Maybe I was too busy looking for someone else.”
Her lips curve into a knowing smile, and she tilts her head. “Smooth. I’ll give you that.”
“Where’d you go?” I ask, unable to keep the curiosity out of my voice.
“Bathroom,” she says simply. “Why? Miss me?”
“If you want to call it that,” I admit, and she snickers, the sound curling around my ribs like a tickle and I can’t help but laugh in return.
We move to the side of the bar, away from the fans and the noise. It’s still public enough to keep things casual but private enough to talk.
“So,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Spur-of-the-moment visit to see Rafferty?”
She shrugs, her gaze flicking toward the bar before settling back on me. “Needed a change of scenery. Calgary was starting to feel stifling.”
“Interesting choice of words,” I muse. “Sounds like more than just a visit.”
“I think I’m going to stay for a bit. Besides, looks like Rafferty’s got himself mixed up in some crazy stuff with this stalker woman.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Only your brother.”
“Only Rafferty,” she agrees with a grin.
“I saw you sitting with Tempe at the game. What do you think of her?”
“She’s fabulous,” Farren says, her eyes shining. “I mean, I couldn’t make up that story if I tried, but it’s going to turn into something serious. Mark my words.”
“I think you might be right,” I agree.
“Have you spent any time with her?” she asks. “Is she as good for him as I think she might be?”
“Yeah,” I say softly, rolling around in my head all I’ve come to learn about Tempe in the few times we’ve hung out. “She’s super sweet, completely genuine. And obviously, a good sport to put up with your brother’s crazy shenanigans.”
Farren’s expression goes a little dreamy. “That’s good. I want him to be happy.”
It’s funny how that comes across. It’s almost as if she needs him to be happy and I wonder if that’s just her love for him, as I know they’re tight, or is it wishful thinking on her part for something she herself wants?