CHAPTER 1

"Rosalie, I think I'm gonna take off early." I looked over at my boss, expecting the usual look of annoyance, but she surprised me with a smile.

"Go ahead, kid. Take off. You've been gone all day as it is. Besides—it's been slow. It's no problem."

I gave her a side-eye "What's that supposed to mean?"

She propped herself up on the counter and drummed her fingers on the tile. "Every time tall, dark, and handsome comes in, your brain goes kaput and you're in la-la land for the rest of the day

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Am I that obvious?"

She wasn't wrong. It was like the sky parted and the brightest burst of sunshine came through whenever he came in. I didn't think I was that transparent, but there wasn't any way I could keep my cool when I saw him.

"You seriously are. And days like today when he doesn't show up? You're even worse. I get it. I do. I may be all washed up and married, but you can't deny that man is nice on the eyes."

I unwrapped my apron and wadded it up in a ball. "It's not like I have a chance—I mean, I'm so not his type. He's not my usual type, either. But, I don't know. He's so damn pretty."

She rolled her eyes—something I was used to coming from her—and hopped down from the counter. "Shoo with you. I have work to do, since all my clerks are lazy."

It was my turn to give her an eyeroll of my own, but I followed her instructions and started toward the back to grab my things.

"See you bright and early tomorrow."

On Mondays, I usually volunteered at the animal shelter, but I wasn't in the mood. Usually, being around all that fur and fuzz put me in a great mood. Made me feel alive and happy. Today, I felt a bit off, so I went straight home and decided to board myself up in the house and mope.

If I wanted to admit it—and I didn't—I was a little bit wigged out about that guy, Edward. My daily eye-candy. It was pathetic that the only reason I knew his name was because I had to ask for it when he ordered. And honestly, after he told me the first time, it was engrained in my brain. But I asked him every single time, just so I could hear his voice.

Pah-thet-ic.

I'd never had a problem talking to guys before. I wasn't exactly the most gregarious girl on the planet, either, but he shook me up. When it came to him, I got so twisted up and tongue-tied. I blamed that on his blasted smile. It sent me into a tornado of emotions I couldn't even label. I was addicted to it.

Rosalie loved to tease me about him. And mostly, I let her. There wasn't much she wouldn't tease me about, honestly. And I liked that. I hadn't had someone close enough to me to tease me that way in a long time.

She'd tried to get me to go on a date with who she called my 'fan club' for months. There were a few of them who were pretty cute, and most of them had been nice, but I think Rosalie finally understood my crush on Edward. He mattered.

Had he not been my first customer on my very first day of work, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have been ruined for other men. They had no chance in hell now. He'd robbed me of any interest in the opposite sex.

I hadn't gone on a date in nine months. And sex, well, we hadn't been friends in almost a year. Self-love with his name whispered into a dark room was about as frisky as things got. Pathetic, but true. Saddest part was that it was more satisfying than actual sex had been in the past. Imagining his face, those eyes and his damn smile left me breathless and aroused.

I shook my head and laughed at myself as I grabbed my half-eaten carton of ice-cream from the freezer. If he had any idea about the things that went on in my perverted mind… holy hell! He'd probably run as fast as he could to register a restraining order on my crazy ass. I was gone for the guy, and the only thing I'd ever said to him involved coffee orders and have a nice day.

"Your life is officially the lamest thing ever." Talking to myself had become the norm, too. After my stray cat got sick of my weird conversations and ran away, it was all me, myself, and I alone with our obsession with Edward Cullen.

I was embarrassed to admit that I'd Googled him after overhearing my co-worker say he was a hockey player. It was a sad day at the Swan house when I pulled up page after page about him. He was a star, and not just a great player for the area, he was like a legit, big time sports star.

He didn't come off that way, though. He wasn't some cocky jock or anything. I'd seen interviews with other sports stars on TV and the internet and they all acted like their balls were 14K gold. He was quiet. Serious. Whenever someone asked him a question, he gave a thoughtful, intelligent answer. No smirks or winks from this guy. He took it all in stride.

Sports weren't my thing. At all. In fact, hockey was nowhere near my radar. I knew the basics—they played with a stick and the ball thingy was called a puck. I knew they played on ice and that was about the extent of my knowledge of hockey. Same went for baseball and football. Ball, bat, foot, ball. I didn't get it, gave up trying to figure it out when I was ten years old and my dad tried to force me to watch it on TV, and I never looked back.

That said, I found myself spending a lot of time wondering about Edward and what he did. What made him choose to be a hockey player? Was it his childhood dream? His passion? Did he live and breathe hockey, or was it a way to pay the bills and stay out of the rat race? Some days I made myself crazy wondering about him and what he thought about and did.

Over-thinking was kind of my specialty. If I could get paid to overthink and analyze things for a living, I'd have a much bigger television and a swankier couch. For sure. I'd always thought too much, read too much into everything. Anything I saw or heard I had to tear apart and figure out. I was too curious for my own good. My dad called me a dreamer. Everyone else thought I was a weirdo.

"He probably thinks I'm a weirdo, too," I muttered into the empty room. I popped my spoon in my mouth and savored the creamy sweetness. My life had become this huge joke. To say I felt pathetic was a serious understatement. He hadn't come in for weeks, and I had started losing hope of ever seeing him again. I mean, sure, if I wanted to, there were plenty of ways of stalking him, but I wasn't that far gone. No, I lived for my brief moments at work. When he'd walk in all scrubbed down and pretty, smelling like spicy soap and freaking sunshine. Wearing that damn V-neck t-shirt I loved—the one so worn out it had holes—and his sunglasses tucked into the collar, giving me a peek at the hair on his chest. And those jeans, the way they snuggled up around his ass like a prayer.

It was his smile, though. It made every part of my body quiver. When I say every part, I mean, every part. I lived for those days he'd walk into the shop, share his pretty smile, and then walk out the door with his black coffee, lemon muffin, and my heart.

*waves*

So, long time no see, y'all.

I am sorry to those of you who were reading Slapshot and waited and waited for me to complete it.

I finally did it. I just hope you enjoy it.

xo -jami