From Fling to Ring (THE SAN FRANCISCO AFTERSHOCKS #2) by Mika Lane EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Mika Lane
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.3 MB
- Price: Free
TYLER
There she is.
Only, ‘she’ is the last ‘she’ on earth I want to see at this moment. Or,
probably, ever.
My gut churns, which is beyond lame because I probably have onehundred fifty pounds and at least twelve inches on this woman. I could
seriously pick her up with one hand, yet seeing her here tonight makes my
dick shrivel, and my libido, previously quite healthy, dry up like spilled
water in the desert.
Does the way this woman keeps showing up wherever I go qualify her
as the dreaded s-word?
Stalker.
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That might be a shitty thing to call a person, but when someone you
used to date keeps showing up in your life, what the hell else is it?
I look at my buddies Rake and Jonas for support, but they’re busy
talking through Rake’s last-season injury, and how it will or won’t impact
his upcoming season.
Not that they’d give a shit about my little problem, anyway. They
always tell me to be more selective about who I date. Easy for them to say.
They found their soulmates—their term, not mine.
It sucks when a relationship gets to this point. Not that it happens often.
But when it does, it’s ugly, messy, and in my case, has the potential to be
very public.
I grab an overcooked shrimp off the tray of a passing server and chase it
with my third Singha beer. The catered food at this place is always a
crapshoot, but at least they can’t mess up the beer.
I look around the old-school San Francisco restaurant, likely decorated
ages ago with some well-meaning person’s interpretation of Southeast
Asian chic. Large, lazy fans flap from the ceiling, interspersed with random
red and gold lanterns. The requisite faux balcony high up on one wall
screams ‘colonial’ feel, and fraying rattan chairs and wilted potted plants
make up the rest of the scene.
The San Francisco Aftershocks holds a
couple low-brow events here each year, reportedly because the owner of the
restaurant knows the owner of the team and thinks they’re great friends, or
something like that. We don’t ask questions. We just show up.
This particular team event is behind the bar in an area cordoned off for
privacy, which is really just attracting more attention than anything else.
And in spite of the ceiling fans, the air is filled with the testosterone of a
team of fired-up pro hockey players and the lethal combo you get when you
add alcohol to the mix.
Seriously. Our PR rep, the diminutive Vince Vincent, is running around
like a frantic babysitter, trying to make sure no one does anything stupid.
We’re to save any and all of our bone-headed aggression for the ice.
Which is fair.
It feels good to be back with the guys. Sure, I see Rake and Jonas on the
regular, but the rest of the team pretty much scatters in the off season.
People have lives to live, children to raise, vacations to take, and family to
visit. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I kind of miss them when we’re all blown
to different corners of the earth.
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