Pike (Sin City Saints Hockey #2) Read Online Brenda Rothert

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Sin City Saints Hockey Series by Brenda Rothert
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Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Pike (Sin City Saints Hockey #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Brenda Rothert

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B09GDR7ZYV
Book Information:


In Sin City, the stakes are high. Bet big and you may win it all—but you could also lose far more than you bargained for.

Indie Garrison is in over her head. Ditched by her husband in the dead of the night, she’s suddenly a broke single mom living with her sister. Sure, she and pro hockey player Pike Morgan got off on the wrong foot in a big way, and admittedly, it was entirely her fault. But Indie’s been fooled by a man for the last time, and no matter how hard Pike tries to break down her walls, she’s not falling for him. At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself.

Pike Morgan is at the top of his game. Being drafted by the new Las Vegas expansion team was ideal for the bearded, blue-eyed NHL goalie who’s only serious about two things: hockey and partying. When he accepts a bet from a teammate, he finds himself wooing a spirited woman who wants nothing to do with him. Once he gets to know her and her young son, though, he regrets his wager. If Indie finds out the truth, she’s going to hate the player and the game.
Books in Series:

Sin City Saints Hockey Series by Brenda Rothert

Books by Author:

Brenda Rothert



Chapter One

Indie

* * *

“Mommy, I’m sick.”

“I know, baby.” I kiss my son’s forehead, noting that it feels warmer than average, and hold him closer. “It’ll be our turn soon.”

The woman sitting next to me and my three-year-old son coughs loudly. She didn’t even cover her mouth. I narrow my eyes at her, but she just turns her head to look in the other direction and ignores me. The waiting room of our pediatrician’s office is crowded this morning, parents and kids filling nearly every chair. We’ve been here for close to an hour, but I can’t complain because they worked our appointment in at the last minute when my son woke up with a fever this morning.

“Nolan Garrison?” the receptionist calls out.

I grab my purse and Nolan’s diaper bag in one hand, keeping my other arm wrapped tightly around him. I stand from my seat, expertly balancing everything, and walk up to the receptionist desk.

“You’re Nolan’s mom?” The receptionist looks up from her computer and I nod.

“Yes. Indira Garrison.”

“And what’s going on with Nolan today?”

My son moans softly and buries his face in my chest.

“He has a runny nose, a sore throat, and I’m pretty sure he has a fever but my thermometer at home is broken.”

“I’m hot, Mom,” Nolan says weakly.

I drop my purse and the diaper bag to free up a hand so I can pull up the back of his shirt. He’s soaked with sweat and burning up.

“Still at the same address?” The receptionist asks me.

“No, I moved in with my sister recently.” I give her the new house number and street name.

“Zip code?”

“Sorry, I’m not sure what our zip code is.”

She frowns. “Is it here in Vegas?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Let me see if I can find it for you.”

Nolan whimpers, and my aggravation flares. My normally active toddler is lethargic and has a fever. Who cares what zip code my sister lives in?

The phone rings, and the receptionist answers it.

“Oh, hey,” she says into the phone, smiling. “Yeah, we’re slammed…I’ll see if he can reschedule…oh, she did? Girl or boy?…Aw, congratulations to her…okay, I’ll call back as soon as I get a chance to ask him…” She laughs. “I know. It seriously might be afternoon…okay…thanks, Dee. Bye.”

The phone rings again and she immediately answers the call. I glance at her name tag. Joan. Joan is making her way to the top of my shit list. She makes an appointment for the person on the phone and turns back to me after she hangs up.

“Okay, I guess we’ll have to work on that zip code later,” she finally says. “Let me just click to this other screen…okay, here we go…insurance. Do you still have the same insurance?”

“I don’t know.”

She lowers her brows disdainfully. “You don’t know?”

I curse my husband Dean for the thousandth time and then tell Joan the ugly truth. “My husband left me three weeks ago. I don’t know where he is and honestly, I don’t care. His boss told me he quit his job, and I don’t know if Nolan and I are still covered by the insurance.” My throat wells with angry tears. “But my son is sick, and this is his doctor’s office, so…can we see the doctor?”

“Oh, dear.” Joan looks over at another woman, sitting at a computer, behind the receptionist desk. “Nhira, can you call and check on a patient’s insurance status for me?”

I look at the round clock on the wall beside Joan. It’s 10:50 a.m., and my shift at the job I just started begins at noon. By the time we finish here and I get Nolan back to my sister’s house so she can take care of him, change clothes, and make the drive to work, I’ll be pushing it.

“Can I just pay for it?” I ask, leaning my cheek against Nolan’s head the same way I do when I’m rocking him to sleep. “I have a credit card.”

“Well, an office visit is one hundred and thirty dollars, and that’s without tests or labs.”

“I can’t be late for work. And if he’s still covered by my husband’s insurance, I’ll get a refund, right?”

Joan taps some keys on the computer and furrows her brow. “I’m not sure.”

“Excuse me,” a man says, leaning in front of me to address Joan. “I’ve been waiting for thirty-five minutes for my daughter’s appointment. How much longer is it going to be?”

“What’s her name?” Joan asks.

I roll my eyes, and Nolan whimpers again. I’m on the edge of losing my patience.

Waking up three weeks ago to a note from my husband of four years, informing me that he withdrew every penny from our joint bank accounts and was leaving town, had thrown my whole life into a tailspin. All I’d had in my wallet that day was a ten-dollar bill. There was no time to cry, because without money to pay rent, I immediately had to pack our things and sell the furniture. Then I’d been forced to use that money to pay the car payments and the utility bills I found out Dean had let lapse. I was broke now, with less than fifty dollars to my name until I got my first paycheck from the coffee shop.


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