Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Have you thought about the words coming out of your fucking mouth right now?!” Hennington high-pitchedly huffs. “I don’t want – nor need – your strategy for bagging your coach’s-”
“One of my coaches.”
“-sister!” Her hands fall to her hips and firmly clench. “Tell. Me. He. Already. Knows. Groff.” My jaw lowers again, yet nothing comes out, prompting Hot Rocket to redirect her glare to my date. “Tell. Me. He. Already. Knows. Gillian.”
“Uh…” a loud hiccup bounces her entire figure. “Not in um…” Two more make themselves heard. “Those words?”
“Those words or any words?” growls the woman most likely considering a trade for me right about now.
Instinct pushes me to wind my arm protectively around my Slayer’s waist and declare, “We’ll find the right ones, GM. Promise, aye.”
“And the right time,” croaks Gilly as she warmly leans into my hold.
“There is never going to be a right time,” Hot Rocket informs on a shake of the head. “However, for the sake of this team, this family, I’m only going to say this once.” Sternness overwhelming her expression precedes her stare boring into mine. “You have two options, tendy. Tell him or don’t date her.”
Relief threatens to bear hug me. “You’re not gonna tell him first?”
“That’s not my job,” she swiftly states. “That’s your job,” her chin kicks itself at me, “as one of his players. And that’s your job,” the action is replicated at Gilly, “as his sister. My job,” Hennington stabs herself in the chest with a pointed digit, “is to make sure this family has the least amount of off ice problems possible for that Whora The Explorer Ramirez to find and report on.” The lean forward executed is beyond menacing. “Do. Not. Make my job any harder than it already fucking is. Clearskies?”
Chapter 11
Gillian
“Wait, you’re serrie?” Bronny abruptly stops scooping sour cream onto his homemade chicken nachos. “I’m supposed to change my toothbrush?!”
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my record print covered scrubs top – that Thayne surprised me with like a peace offering the day after the team calendar nightmare – is attached to an overly enthusiastic, “Yes!”
Bronny tilts his head to the side in a challenging fashion. “No cap?”
“What? No.” Disbelief crinkles my forehead. “You should always put the cap back on toothpaste when you’re not using it.”
“No, he’s askin’ if you’re bein’ honest,” Thayne deciphers between grabbing us plates for dinner. “And yeah, dude. She’s serrie.”
Curiosity has him quirking an eyebrow. “How serrie?”
“Game seven double overtime,” I reply just as he shoves a loaded chip into his mouth.
“What?!” he grumbles around the contents. “No-huh!” Frantic crunching is followed by swift swallowing. “You’re messin’ with me.” One hand is casually flung our way resulting in a tiny tomato landing on the floor near my bare feet. “Next, you’re gonna say I should be brushin’ my teeth twice a day.”
Shock plummets my jaw to the ground. “Ohmygod, you should!”
“Huh,” Bronny grunts and shoves another chip into his mouth. “Really?”
“Go,” instructs Thayne on a small chortle, hand lovingly landing on the small of my back. “Go sit down and stop breakin’ my Gillybean’s heart.”
“Her ‘Achy Breaky Heart’,” I playfully poke in return, brown stare meeting his hazel gaze.
It’s his turn to let his mouth become agape. “You jus’ Billy Ray Cyrus me?”
“Yup.”
“Skipped right over Elton John and Kiki Dee-”
“And Bonnie Tyler.”
“-to go straight for the man whose politics I don’t agree with, but whose most famous song notably increased the popularity of line dancin’ the year it came out?”
“Sure did.”
Awe instantly spreads throughout his expression. “Remind me again, how soon is too soon to propose? I’m thinkin’ a yellow diamond since those are my favorite jellybeans.”
Warm giggles precede me lightly elbowing him. “How about we start with getting Arthur in there on the schedule for a cleaning?”
“Bronny,” the teen calls out from where he’s settled in the living room recliner.
“Arthur,” my voice is thrown in his direction, “was an educational kids cartoon that I’m thinking we may need to be binging tonight instead of La Hermana Amorosa.”
“Learn later, see if Valentina is finally gonna realize her sister Noelle is havin’ an affair with her husband, Thiago, now,” he insists while reaching for the remote.
It’s impossible not to smirk.
Okay.
So, sue me.
I like that they like the telenovelas I’m into.
It’s fun to have someone besides Rhonnie and Owlfonso to ramble about it with.
Plus, I…like that Thayne and I haven’t even been dating that long and already have our own little family vibe going on.
Doesn’t seem to matter what we’re doing; Bronny wants to be a part of it.
He was happily with Thayne on Monday when he popped by my place to drop off the “I’m Sorry” scrubs and hand dripped cardamom coffee, excited to take credit for finding the influencer that helped his brother make the perfect cup.
Wednesday, he came with us to the Weird Music Festival – which paired culinary creations from around the world with unusual instruments – after convincing Thayne it would be a great immersive experience for the inevitable “What Did You Do This Summer” essay assignment his school district forces them to write every year.