It was just a feeling. The way she steeled her shoulders and how she looked at her dad with hurt in her eyes. We all had our baggage, and while I never talked about mine, I wanted to ask about hers. Who was the girl who needed a fake date? The girl who bolted before taking more than three sips of a free beer?
“Since we’ll be working together, I feel like we should get to know each other more, hm?” I said, leaning onto my elbows and getting an inch closer to her. She had a light dusting of freckles on her nose and a mole on her left cheek. I instantly pictured the trio of moles I saw on her collarbone.
She sighed and looked everywhere but my face. “Why? You seem like trouble.”
“Well, I am.” I winked and flashed her my best smile. “Have you ever helped out during a hockey season before?” I asked, chuckling at how she narrowed her eyes at me. “Lots of time together, you and me. What if you need a fake date again? Hell, what if I need a fake date? These are important questions, so we should probably be friendly.”
“Did my dad make you do this?”
“Wait, what?” I recoiled. “No. We didn’t talk about you after you left.”
Naomi seemed to sink further into her chair. “Fine. We’re friends.”
“Doesn’t work like that.” I tapped my finger on the table, and she watched the movement. “Did that guy stop bothering you? Do you need me to help again?”
She blinked. “It’s fine. I haven’t seen him.”
Okay, she was a tough cookie. A hard cookie, like a biscotti or something. Didn’t make it less delicious, just a bit more effort to get to the good part. It was exhilarating and weird to struggle to get more than one-word answers with this girl. Flirting was as easy as skating, but Naomi had me questioning my game.
That wouldn’t do.
“Okay, data girl, since I pretended to date you for ten minutes, do I get the story behind it? I think that’s a fair ask.”
“Nope.” She swallowed and played with that damn braid again. Her big brown eyes seemed to stare through me as she said, “I appreciate you helping me, by the way. I never got to thank you.”
I liked her voice and how it was a little deeper than I’d imagined. I flashed her another grin and leaned back into the chair. “You’re welcome. I’m always up for pretending to date cute data nerds.”
“Mm,” she said, her mouthalmostcurving up at the sides in a smile. That tiny movement shouldn’t have sent a thrill through me, but shit, it did.
“Okay, this one-sided conversation is going swell.” I laughed at how much shit I’d get if the guys back home knew how much I failed at this. Was I hoping to harmlessly flirt with the woman who’d been on my mind the past week? Yes. Would anything happen? Nah. But she shot down every attempt. I covered my yawn with a hand as I started to stand up. The anticipation of being back in the rink during game time, not as a player, kept me up. I wasn’t sleeping great with all the mental gymnastics I’d been partaking in. “Sorry, Fletcher, super tired today.”
“Wild night?” she asked with a hint of judgement to her tone.
“I mean, watching a documentary about Michael Jordan and then tossing and turning all night isn’t in my top five crazy nights, but sure. We’ll go with wild.”
Naomi fought a smile again but lost. She laughed, and it was like a wall crashed down between us, the tension in my chest fizzling away.
“I’m being rude. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Sounds like we’re breaking up, which ironically, still makes this the second longest relationship I’ve had.”
Her eyes crinkled on the sides, and she let out a deep chuckle. “Ah, and the longest would be?”
“Melanie Veroni. Third grade. Now that I think about it, we never ended things. So, this is awkward. I should probably call her, right? To make sure we both know?”
She snorted, and it charmed me. She swallowed as her gaze moved from my face to my arm with tattoos. The ink designs were all flowers, free-hand drawings from sick artists back home, and a large phoenix that covered my entire bicep. “Is your first name Reiner?”
“My last name. Michael William Reiner is my whole name. That was going to be your next question. I could already tell.”
Naomi had a great smile. Straight white teeth, soft lines around her full lips. I liked how I could break down that slight grumpy exterior. Again, something told me she had a story there, but until I found out what it was, I’d settle for those little grins.
“Your turn,” I said, jutting my chin at her. “Full name. You could also provide your social security number and name of your first pet. If you wanted to. No pressure.”
She chuckled again.Two points for me.
“God, you are something else.” She set her hands down on the table, and the lone silver ring on her middle finger caught my attention. “Naomi Fletcher. I’m not sharing my middle name because it’s...well, you’re a hockey player. You’ll just make fun of me.”
“Try me.”
