Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
But as I watch him, his ease with people, his charm, I realize my reaction didn’t truly come out of nowhere. It was born from the last month and a half of getting to know him.
Later, after we’ve cleaned up, we head to the car. “We can mark off number six now,” I say.
Wes shakes his head, sad boy face in effect. “No, we can’t.”
“Why? That was volunteer work for you and me.” I’m confused. Why wouldn’t we cross it off?
He sighs deeply, and once we’re alone in the car, he runs a hand down my leg. “Doesn’t count. I said yes because I was feeling jealous and possessive.”
My reaction is slow—a blink, then a long stare. Before Tom even arrived at the book display, Mister Hockey was jealous of the attention I might have received from the firemen? “You showed up today because you were pre-jealous?” I’m secretly fizzy from this revelation as we leave, pulling into traffic.
“And justifiably so,” he says, owning it. “But we still need to work on the list.”
It’s a good reminder that we have a project to focus on. Wes is around for a few more days, then he travels again for a stretch of games. Time will run out if we’re not careful, and we won’t get to finish the list.
“What if we volunteer at a dog rescue for the next month? Seems we should do the volunteer part more than once anyway. So it should be a month-long thing,” he says as he drives along a hilly city street.
A warm, hazy sensation spreads in my chest. A month feels like it means something. It feels like a part of figuring this out. Like it’s somehow something that connects us even more to each other.
Settle down—you’re living together for at least another month. That’s all it means.
“We should,” I say, keeping my voice even so I don’t read something that isn’t there at all in the let’s do it for a month idea. “And a dog rescue feels right. For both of us,” I say, trying to ignore the flutters in my chest. Then I notice the sticker curling at the edges of his shirt. “Did you wear this sticker, too, to stake a claim on me?”
He nods, proud and certain. “I did.”
Funny—there’s something I want to stake a claim on. Something I’ve been imagining since I moved in with him.
Maybe it’s something I can do after the game. And just like that, I have a plan for tonight—what to do during the game, and what to do after.
34
THE GLEAM AND THE GLOW
Josie
As I get ready for the game, I can hear Greta’s voice loud and clear. There’s only one thing to do with a baggy shirt. Belt it, baby.
I tighten a peach crocheted belt around my waist as I peer in the mirror. Yep, it’s a shirt dress now, and this belt’s shade looks good with the royal blue of the Sea Dogs jersey that lands right above my knees. I’m wearing dark gray leggings under the jersey.
Seriously, why don’t hockey teams make jerseys for regular-size people? Fine, they don’t have regular-size people playing the sport. And this is one of Wes’s actual jerseys, not simply the kind I could pick up in the team shop. But Christian will never know that. Since, well, the team shop sells all sorts of sizes. Christian also won’t know for another reason. My brother doesn’t pay close attention to my clothes—nor should he when he’s playing hockey.
Still, my nerves rattle around as I look in the mirror, checking out the outfit. I look like a hockey girl. It’ll be obvious to everyone I am. Including my brother. And I feel weird not telling him, given the way he’s helped me out.
As I’m tugging open a drawer to find something else to wear, the doorbell chimes. That’d be Maeve, since she’s meeting me here. I race to the front door and let her in.
“Hello, tiger,” she says approvingly, eyeing me up and down.
Yeah, that’s bad. “The whole outfit screams I’m fucking the forward, doesn’t it?”
“No. It’s not the outfit that says that,” she says, blunt and direct.
My stomach pitches like a pirate ship at an amusement park. “Then what gives the secret sex life of this librarian away?”
She smiles wickedly. “Your eyes. They have that well-fucked look.”
“Eyes do not get a well-fucked look.”
She parks her hands on my shoulders and spins me around so I’m facing the mirror by the front door. “They do. See?”
I peer more closely but come up empty. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s a gleam. The gleam of getting some,” she says knowingly, staring back at me in the glass. “And damn, I am jealous. You got the glow on your skin and the gleam in your eyes.”
I laugh, and my worry slinks away for now. Maeve just has that carefree effect on people. I’m not going to stress about my clothes or my brother. “We all deserve a glow and a gleam, don’t we?”