“Yeah?”
I nod. “Putting together events and clubs and fun stuff for the town is allIdo. It’s what I spend my time and energy on. Even when I’m not in the office, I’m thinking of things or getting supplies ready or making phone calls. And it’s really amazing when people come up and tell me how much they enjoyed something or how a town tradition has meant a lot to their family or how they’ve had something I planned on their calendar for weeks or even months.”
He gives me a smile that warms me from my chest to my toes. “You do get it. You work hard, put yourself out there, and it’s awesome when people care about that.”
I nod. “It is.”
“So we’ll do this thing. This bonkers hockey is going to be amazing.”
“Thanks, Alex,” I say sincerely.
“This is why I’m here, right? To bring people into that arena. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at.”
I squeeze his hand. “Right.”
But I will admit as we walk away from Jackson Square to his truck and then head back to Rebel, I feel a tickle of unease.
Yes, this is why Alex is here. His name, his stardom, are also supposed to help us.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I want this to be more than that.
I want to help the hot, famous, hugely talented, multimillionaire pro-athlete.
And I also want to do a whole bunch of thingstohim. Inappropriate, dirty, will-definitely-ruin-me-for-other-men-and-break-my-heart-when-he-leaves things.
Which is why, when he pulls into my driveway and puts his truck in park and turns to me and says, “I had a great time tonight,” I look at him for a long moment, then lean over and press a kiss to his lips and say, “I really do love spending non-naked time with you.”
And then I get my ass out of the truck and head insidealone.
CHAPTER 14
ALEX
Not gettingNora Delaune naked is something I’m going to regret forever. I just know that. I have never been on a date like the one last night, and I want to go on fifty-seven more with her. Even knowing that I’m not going to get her naked at the end of the night.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to.
I really want to. More than I did at the beginning of the night, and I really wanted to at the beginning of the night.
Still, she’s my girlfriend.
She seems to think that she’s just a friend, and I heard all of her explanations last night, but I’ve been thinking about it. Her. Last night.
I can’t remember the last time I thought about a date for hours after it ended and then woke up in the morning thinking about it. Especially without the woman next to me in bed.
I grin and reach for my phone on the spindly bedside table. I shake my head at the crocheted doily thing it’s resting on and the lamp that has birds and flowers and tree branches carved into the base.
I text her:I think there’s a problem with your theory about just being my friend who’s a girl.
She answers within just a couple of minutes, and I wonder what she’s doing. It’s only seven a.m.. I’m shocked I’m awake considering the time difference between Portland and Louisiana, but I feel pretty good.
Nora:Oh? Tell me more.
Me:I understand what you’re saying about not getting naked and that does make it different, but we’re going to be kissing. And touching. Acting besotted with one another. That’s a weird gray area at least.
Nora:Besotted? Wow, I didn’t peg you for a guy who would use the word besotted.
Me:Don’t distract from the topic. If I’m kissing you—which I will be—and touching you—which I will be—and staring at you as if you are the best thing since the caveman decided to hit something across the ice with a stick—which I will be—then I think you’re still my girlfriend.
