Even the most stonehearted person on the planet couldn’t resist that pleading look. And I’m far from granite.
“Absolutely, baby,” I promise. “Sleep well.”
She gives me a little wave as she leaves, and I close the door, leaning against it.
It feels like a bomb just went off, blowing my life to confetti.
The shoes.
Kane Saint, (in)famous hockey player.
The awkwardness around his life, his career at—Opti-something.
But Opti-what? And why is it so Opti-weird?
My phone waits on the bed.
I throw myself down and snatch it up, bringing up a new tab to start some deep sleuthing.
I’mpositive I’m going to beat Kane downstairs the next morning, but by the time I step into the kitchen with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, he’s already laying his ingredients out on the counter.
This man brings a whole new meaning to ‘morning ritual.’
For a second, I just stand in the doorway, staring like he’s a ghost.
My Google sleuthing paid off last night.
Few answers and a lot more questions, gaps in his history I never would’ve guessed, some turning into gaping chasms.
Like the company he was involved with,OptiSynth Studios. He was a co-founder and on the board for years before he left it abruptly earlier this year.
According to the tech articles, he stepped away due to ‘differences’ in vision with the rest of the company’s executive team.
I can read between the lines.
In money and business circles, that means there was a blowout. Then he either walked away or they shoved him out.
I can’t guess which.
All I know is, the former co-founder of a premier AI design studio is standing in my kitchen, whipping up blueberry pancake batter along with the cheesy eggs and hashbrowns I’d planned to make.
It doesn’t feel real.
Eventually, he senses me and looks up.
His green eyes blaze when we connect, burning like lanterns before he turns back to what he’s doing.
My stomach flips.
My skin feels too hot.
My toes scrunch like every bad rom-com movie.
God, we should keep our distance.
But I have questions for Kane Saint that desperately need answers.
And it’s awfully hard to look at him the same way now that I also know he had a big ugly public breakup with Daria Purty. I stalked her Instagram for over an hour last night.
