“Make yourself at home,” he says, walking into the kitchen, which is open to the living room.
I look around Aiden’s apartment. It’s very simplistic and clean. The kitchen is pale blond wood with white marble granite countertops. The furniture looks Scandinavian to me—naturaland minimal. There’s a cream-colored sectional sofa and an ottoman serving as a coffee table—with nothing on it. Small, light-wood tables flank each side, with nothing but lamps and remotes on them. A large flat-screen TV hangs on the opposite wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows provide a view of the patio and the ocean and beach below, the lights of Miami twinkling all around—a breathtaking sight.
I set my purse down on the sofa, continuing to take in the space that Aiden calls home. The dining area has a round table and four chairs. Nothing on it. I move into the kitchen—Aiden hardly has anything on his countertops, either.
I chuckle. “I can see very clearly now why you couldn’t live with Wyatt.”
Aiden looks up from the steak he’s seasoning with salt. “I might have undersold what a neat freak I am.”
“You are incredibly neat. I’m not a messy person—but I’m not this tidy, either.”
“I can only function in chaos on the ice,” Aiden says. “Off it? I like things neat.”
I think about what would happen if Aiden and I—and this is purely hypothetical speaking, of course—were to be involved. His life would become instant chaos the second my dad found out about us.
I swallow. Aiden’s calm, ordered life would become very, very messy.
So that’s another reason why we can only stay friends, isn’t it?
“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have offered you a drink,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “What can I get you? I have water, sparkling water, beer. That’s it, I’m afraid.”
“A sparkling water sounds perfect,” I say.
Aiden stops what he’s doing and opens the fridge, stooping down and looking inside. “I have lime and black cherry.”
“Lime, thank you.”
“You got it.”
Aiden retrieves a can and grabs a glass, pausing to fill it with ice. He pours me a drink and then sets it down in front of me before he goes back to preparing the steaks.
“So is your steak handling as good as your puck handling?” I ask, taking a sip of the bubbly water.
“I think so. I also like the fact that you know what good puck handling is.”
“I do. Can I help you with anything?”
“Nope. You’re my guest. Are you okay with roasted veggies and sweet potatoes?”
“I’m fine with that,” I say, taking a seat on one of the tall chairs at the counter.
“I’ll confess I didn’t make those,” Aiden says, inclining his head toward some vegetables in glass containers. “I have a lot of prepared foods from a nutritionist. But I promise I’ve learned how to cook a steak.”
“Medium-rare?” I ask, quirking a brow at him.
“I can do medium-rare. Only because that’s what I like to eat. I perfected that one.”
“Then it’s my lucky day.”
His eyes meet mine. “I think it’s my lucky day, too.”
Despite knowing the boundaries we can never cross, my eyes dart to his full lips.What would it be like to kiss him?
I might be all about green flags and breaking rules tonight, but that’s one rule neither one of us is willing to cross.
For Aiden’s sake more than mine.
I lift my gaze to meet his, and I find Aiden is already watching me. “I know this is a bad idea,” he says simply. “You being here and all.”
