“Careful, I could get used to this,” she teases as she climbs up into my Range Rover.
“The fact you’re not already accustomed to it tells me a lot about your life up until now,” I state before closing the door and stalking around to the driver’s side.
She sits silently, fiddling with her purse in her lap, as I start the engine and back out of the space.
“Will you…should I expect…do you have…”
I glance over at her when she continues failing to finish whatever question she’s trying to ask.
“Take a breath,” I instruct.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers before finally asking her question. “Will I have to cook for another person in your life?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “I don’t have anyone else at my apartment. The only other person who will be eating there is you.”
“O-okay. Good to know.”
As silence falls between us, I reach out and turn the music up. It’s not uncomfortable, but the air is heavy with questions Freya wants to ask but is too scared to do so.
As much as I want to prompt her to say what’s on her mind, I also don’t really like talking about myself, or having anyone diveinto my life, so I just let her be as I head toward her parents’ place.
“I’m sorry, it’s a long round trip for you. I’ve been looking for a place of my own a little closer to the city, but everything is crazy expensive.”
“It’s not a problem,” I assure her. I love driving, but other than going back and forth to the arena, I don’t often have a reason to do so. “At least I know you’re home safe this way.”
“Well, I appreciate it.”
Only a few minutes later, I pull up outside her childhood home. A house that sits right next to Coach’s.
“It looks like someone else appreciates it too,” I say, pointing to where her dad is standing at the windows.
“He’s probably trying to refrain himself from coming out and fanboying over you. Don’t tell him I told you, but you’re his favorite goalie in the league.”
“I’m honored.”
“So, I’ll see you in the morning then.”
“You will. Just let yourself in and do your thing.”
She nods, but I can see her hesitation.
“I’m already looking forward to breakfast,” I tell her honestly as I open the door and turn to climb out.
“What are you doing?” she asks in a panic.
“Coming to open your door,” I tell her before doing precisely that.
It might dark, but it’s impossible to miss the way her cheeks blaze with heat as she slips out of my car.
“Goodnight, Cole. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Chef. Sleep well.”
I stand there and watch as she walks toward the house. When she’s almost there, the front door opens and her dad stands there, his eyes on me.
Lifting my hand, I wave at him before getting back in my car and heading home with a smile.
My season has just gotten that little bit better.
