I feel my hair leave makeup tracks in my cheek as I peel it away. I try to act like this is no big deal, and through the one eye that isn’t obscured, I take in Aiden, as this is the first time I’ve met him in person.
First of all, he’shuge.I know he’s six four, but seeing him in front of me reminds me of exactly how tall that is. Aiden is broad shouldered and muscular, and it’s easy to see why he’s a defenseman, with this body made for that kind of physical position. His hair is brownish-blond, with thick, unruly waves. There’s a lock of it that’s fallen down across his forehead in a dramatic fashion, nearly touching his eyebrow.
What is it about that wayward lock of hair that’s so damn appealing?
I make myself move on to take in his face. Again, I’ve seen Aiden on TV, so I know what he looks like, I know he’s gorgeous, but I wasn’t prepared for this.
Aiden is evenmorehandsome than he is on TV or Connectivity Story Share, and I can’t believe I’m even thinking that, because I thought he was hot before.
But he’s one hundred percent hotter in person.
I take in his full lips and strong jawline and a scar over his left eyebrow. My gaze quickly takes the rest of him in, looking at the sharp suit he’s wearing. It’s adouble-breastednavy suit. Double-freaking-breasted, with a peak lapel. It’s paired with a crisp white dress shirt and navy tie.
The man knows how to dress.
I finally meet his gaze, and I see Aiden’s brows draw down in a confused V. I don’t even want to think about what a mess I must look like right now. I continue to try and pick things out of my goo, and without a mirror, this is proving harder than it looks.
“You have a feather there,” he points out helpfully, motioning to the right side of my face.
I tap my fingers along my face. I pick out one feather—the annoying one near my nose—and Aiden frowns. “It’s wrapped in your hair,” he says.
“Here?” I ask, moving my fingers upward.
“No, down a bit, to the left.”
I move my hand to the left side of my face and feel nothing.
He begins to laugh, a low, rumbling sound that sends goose bumps rippling across my skin. “Sorry,” he says, his face lighting up in a soft smile. “I meant my left. Your right.”
I stop messing with the feathers and hair, my gaze transfixed on his face. His smile is gentle, and something about it sends butterflies flittering in my stomach.
I don’t move my hand to my right, my fingertips frozen in place.
Aiden pauses for a moment. “May I?”
I blink in confusion. May he what?
“Um, may I remove the feather for you, I mean,” he clarifies.
“Oh! Um, yes, that would be helpful.”
Aiden clears his throat. He lifts his hand toward me, but hesitates a moment before doing anything. For some strange reason, I suck in a breath of air in anticipation. Then he moves his fingertips to my face. I feel his roughened fingertips against my skin, skimming ever so lightly across the surface. He carefully plucks the feather out of my hair, setting it on the table next to us.
I’m about to thank him when he reaches back up, carefully moving my hair off my cheek, then pushing it back over my shoulder.
“There,” he says, “now I can see your face.”
My heartbeat quickens. I know one thing from the way he’s looking at me.He has no idea I’m the coach’s daughter.
“Thank you,” I manage to say. Then I smile at him. “I’m sure the rest of my face is a mess. I need a mirror so I can do damage control. Will you excuse me for a moment while I go to the ladies’ room?”
“I don’t know,” he says, his gray eyes sparkling.
His eyes are so pretty up close,I think, studying them. They truly are a shade of gray, and those unusual eyes are fringed by long, inky-black eyelashes.
“You’re not going to let me go to the ladies’ room?” I ask, quirking a brow playfully at him.
Now his mouth tips upward in a knowing smile. “Ah, but that wasn’t your question,” he says. “You asked if I would excuse you. I said I didn’t know if I would.”
