I chuckle because honestly, I don’t know how else to react. This scenario right now just feels so unreal. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m single and sitting next to Eli Hornsby while he flirts with me.
Never in my wildest thoughts would I have ever imagined this scenario to play out.
“Why are you laughing?” he asks, closing the space between us, causing my body to heat another degree.
“Because”—I clear my throat—“this all seems so ridiculous. I mean, what are we doing?”
“Flirting,” he says. “Spending some time together. Some innocent time together.”
“This is innocent?” I ask.
“Yes, if it wasn’t innocent, trust me, you would know.”
I wave my hand in front of my face. Thank God it’s dark in here because I could only imagine the color of my beet-red cheeks at this moment.
“Well, I don’t know what to say to that other than . . . I feel like it’s time I leave.” I down the rest of my drink, and as the liquid flows down my throat, I think about how I should have left half an hour ago, but for some odd reason, I stuck around.
Not sure why.
I set my empty glass on the table and stand from my stool only for Hornsby to stand as well, blocking me from my retreat.
“You seem to be in the way,” I say, looking up at him.
“Because I don’t want you to leave.”
“Well, that’s kind of you to want me to stay, but you see, I fear that if I stick around, I’ll do something really stupid like beg you to nibble on my ear again.”
A grin falls over his lips. “That’s not stupid. That’s actually a really good idea.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s a terrible idea. Really bad.” I reach up and pat his chest, his rock-hard muscles doing nothing to tamper my libido. “I should, wow, you are really muscular.”
He chuckles and then takes my hand in his and sits me back on my stool. “Stay. I promise I won’t flirt anymore. Just don’t leave me on my birthday. I’ve had enough birthdays alone growing up. Give me this one with some company.”
He’s spent birthdays alone? What does he mean by that? That’s so sad.
I realize at this moment that I don’t really know much about Hornsby other than the obvious—what’s put out in the world for fans. But behind those devilish eyes and sparkling grin, I don’t know where he grew up, anything about how he became the hockey star that he is, or pretty much any vital information that made him who he is today.
“Please . . . Penny?”
God, how could I possibly say no to that face?
I can’t.
It’s why I haven’t left yet, and it’s why I find myself asking him to order me another drink and some pretzel bites with cheese sauce.
After a quick trip to the bathroom—with a promise that I wouldn’t ditch him—I settle back on my stool, pleased to see food and new drinks on the table.
“Told you I’d return,” I say while picking up a pretzel.
“I’d like to think it was because you wanted to spend more time with me, but my guess is it’s because of the pretzel bites.”
While chewing, I say, “Yes, well, I am a sucker for carbs.”
He chuckles and picks up a pretzel as well and then smears it in cheese sauce before sticking it in his mouth. For reasons I can’t quite pinpoint, I watch as he eats, noticing the fine muscles in his jaw work as he chews or the way his throat contracts when he swallows. It’s extremely hot and makes me think I should do a collage of the boys swallowing and chewing for TikTok. A good old-fashioned thirst trap. Then again, it might be a little too sexual, and I’m not ready to lose my job, not when I just earned it.
“So, tell me this, Penny, if Blakely was sitting here instead, what would you be talking about?”
I wash my pretzel down with a giant sip of my fourth gimlet of the night and smile when I set my glass down, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.
