I gulped the water, trying to get him to see my point. “You’re rich, and I’m not.”
He shrugged. “Money’s not all that—and I know many people would disagree with me, but I’m serious, Keelie. I have a big house, and it’s empty. I have the money to buy nice things, but I have no one to buy those things for. I rarely see my parents, and I don’t have any siblings. I travel too much to have a pet.”
I set the glass on the green-and-black-swirled granite bar where I’d stopped—right at the edge of the kitchen. “That sounds lonely.”
“It is.” He set his glass next to mine as he came to stand next to me. “I know parts of my world are weird, probably even scary.”
“Very scary,” I muttered. “I don’t own fancy dresses or know how to do those cat-eye makeup tricks I see on celebrities. I wear comfortable clothes that kids spill on, nothing like your ex.” I slammed my lips shut, willing the blush not to blaze across my cheeks.
It did anyway.
Cormac cupped my face. His fingers were warm, his palm large enough to cover the whole side. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling. From the first moment we’d touched, something had sparked between us. That wouldn’t change—but that didn’t mean I should pursue more between us either, though I wanted to. Desperately.
“I’m not used to getting what I want.” I opened my eyes.
“Ah. You work hard, then harder, to get the results.” He nodded. “That’s what I’ve done every day since I was eleven and set my sights on the NHL. Hard work and perseverance—that’s what got me here. As for Shannon, I can tell you she’s in the past.” He pursed his lips. “Actually, I can also tell you that comparisonitis often ends poorly, with me, at least, feeling like I didn’t live up to some expectation. I don’t like it. Instead, I do my best to meet, and preferably surpass, my previous attempts.”
I leaned farther into his hand, wishing he’d touch me more. “You seem to have all the answers.”
He shook his head. “Not true. I’ve had some experiences, and I learned from them. Hopefully, I grew…eventually. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t flail my way through or wish them away.”
I inhaled, drawing on my courage. “I’m worried you’ll realize you could do better, and your rejection will crush me.”
Finally, he stepped in close enough for our body heat to mingle. I lifted my hands and rested my palms on his chest, my fingers curling into the softness of his T-shirt.
“Do you know how many women I’ve dated since Shannon and I separated?”
I mashed my lips together, hating how much I wanted to know.
“None. I took a few nice ladies out for dinner, but there was only one woman I dated—we went on four, maybe five dates.”
I searched his face. Cormac’s open expression called to me. Truth gleamed from his eyes. “And if I’m honest, it was because I missed having a physical connection with someone. Or at least I thought I did. There wasn’t any…I guess emotionality. Just a rather lackluster release…” He cleared his throat, seeming to realize I wasn’t interested in that much detail. “So, I ended up hating the total experience, and I haven’t asked another woman out since. Until you.”
“Dating can be really hard,” I said. Then I rolled my eyes at myself—what an inane reply.
His lips quirked. “Understatement of the year. But that’s because it’s challenging to find someone we connect with, right?”
I nodded. “I knew I wanted to get to know you, right from the beginning.” Again, my face flamed.
“Because I was famous?” he asked.
I shook my head, though I could understand his reason for asking. “No. I mean, I knew you were a hockey player, clearly, but I’ve only ever seen a game when it’s on at a restaurant or something. I’m not a huge sports fan.” Realizing I’d dug myself a hole, I hurried on to say, “That’s because I don’t understand all the rules in hockey. I know it’s very athletic, doing what you do on narrow blades, and that you work out a lot…”
His eyes twinkled. “Keep talking. I like this whole direction of conversation.”
I giggled. “I knew who you were—how good you are at hockey. But that had nothing to do with my interest in you. You were so kind to Andy, so patient, andthatman, he’s the one I wanted to get to know.”
Cormac’s smile grew broader. “I like that kid. By the way, I want to get him tickets to our next game.” He hesitated, then blurted, “I have a request.”
“Shoot.”
“I want you to come to the game, too. As my CATS.”
“What?”
“We call them CATS—comrades, allies, teammates, spouses. We wanted to differ from other sports that have WAGs, wives and girlfriends. So you’d be my comrade and ally, which leaves teammate and spouse as possible additions.” He winked.
“How…very forward thinking of you.”
