Mister Hockey (Hellions Angels #1)(34)
“Penny for your thoughts.” Jed returned her back into the present. “Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere good,” she replied. “It’s like I have this voice in my head. Not a crazy one telling me to go hold up a 7-Eleven or wear a tinfoil hat,” she hastily tacked on. “We all have chatter going on in our minds to some degree. But whenever I stop and listen to my thoughts, more often than not, they are sort of acting like assholes.”
Jed nodded once. “Sports psychology is big business, much of it devoted to tackling this very thing. The research is clear. Athletes that commit to practicing positive self-talk see upticks in their performance. Giving in to negativity reduces success.”
“You sound like a motivational video,” she teased.
“I shot one of those last week,” he deadpanned.
“I can’t tell if you are kidding, but then, they don’t let you have that C on your jersey for being a slouch.”
“So you want to open a children’s bookshop, but are afraid you aren’t cut out for it?” He frowned faintly. “Why?”
“Because I love books. But I don’t have the first clue about running a small business.”
“You know what people are reading. Understand the market.”
“But what if I fail?” Hearing him behave like this wasn’t a ridiculous idea made the idea more real.
Lord knew she thought about it enough. Even knew the perfect space on a tree-lined street in the Cherry Creek neighborhood, a charming brick-and-mortar building with big bright windows and hardwood floors. It was located next to a popular coffee shop and close to a toy shop and kid’s clothing store.
She even had the name picked out: Itsy Bitsy Books.
“But I don’t know anything about finance,” she blurted, although the business plan shoved in a binder on her bookshelf begged to differ.
“But. There’s that word again.” He crawled over her, kissing it away. “I happen to know a guy who knows a guy. And that guy got a degree in Finance from Stanford. And that guy knows how to negotiate contracts like nobody’s business. Here’s my secret. A few people know it, but I need you to hear it before we go any further.”
Nerves bubbled in her belly even as she forced a determined smile. What could he possibly confess that made him go dark and impenetrable? Almost as if he was cloaked in shame. “Go on.”
“Look. You should know, I’m not a big reader . . . I get distracted and restless. My mind starts to wander. But you, you live and breathe stories. They’re your oxygen or something.”
“It’s true.” She reached out and touched his perfect, square jaw. “Books are proof to me that magic really does exist in the world.”
“I don’t want you to think that I’m not smart,” he muttered, still not making direct eye contact. “In school I was always in remedial English. My dad would give me shit.”
Rage on his behalf bubbled in her belly. “I’d never think that in a million years. Honestly, I bet a reader does live inside of you. It’s a matter of finding just the right book.”
“You make it sound like a challenge,” he said ruefully, even as the wrinkles in his brow smoothed.
She regarded him steadily. “I see a guy who needs the right story and then there will be no looking back.”
“That a fact?” He peppered kisses down her neck, over her breast, to her belly and kept right on going.
“Call it professional intuition, but I’ll find you a book.”
“Right after I eat you like a sundae with a cherry on top.”
He made good on the promise and as she came beneath his clever mouth, another voice in her head appeared. One that marched over to the negative mumbler and punched it hard, right in the nose, then grabbed it by the back of the head and forced it to bear witness to the activity below, Jed West going to town on her pussy like a champ.
What was she even thinking about? This was like a perverted remake of Inside Out.
She crashed her head back in the pillow and covered her face with her hands to muffle a giggle.
“This funny, is it?” He stuck a finger inside her and pushed right in the spot that sent her back arching.
“I’m happy,” she gasped. Because for once, it was as if everything was possible, like maybe all her dreams really could come true.
Chapter Thirteen
Jed pretended to watch the TiVo’d Denver Nuggets game from last night, but spent more time glancing over at Breezy who sat, feet propped in his lap, wearing nothing but one of his old college jerseys, frowning into space.
“Okay, so what was your favorite childhood story?” she asked at last. “Not counting The Giving Tree.” Her joking tone belied the serious expression on her face, guess she meant what she said, about finding the magical book that would get him excited about reading.
“Okay, okay. Hang on.” He thought it over. “There was this one, it was weird and I don’t remember the name, about a little boy who dreams he is in a baker’s kitchen. There’s this whole bit about how he was in the milk, and the milk was in him.” He laughed, embarrassed. “I don’t know how to explain it, it sounds stupid when I try to—”
“In The Night Kitchen!” She clapped her hands. “An interesting choice. More surreal then I would have pegged for you. Fascinating.”