“Hi.”
The corners of my eyes crinkle. “You said that already.”
“Right. Shit.” He clears his throat, attention sweeping over me appreciatively. “I’m glad I ran into you. Any day I see you becomes a good one. How was your weekend?”
He’s got lines. Better ones than Johnny’s. My ex’s idea of romance was only talking about himself and trying to hook up at every opportunity.
“It was good. I had work, then kept my roommate company while she worked Saturday night. The Landmark was noticeably more chilled out without the hockey team.”
“We got back late on Sunday. That away game was in Vermont, then we had an exhibition game.” He pauses, pridegleaming in his eyes. “We won. Crushed both of them, actually. It was a shutout.”
“Good job.”
I know Heston won, though I don’t admit it to him that I looked up the final score on my phone. I checked out the highlights over a basket of fries while Reagan took the small stage to belt out covers for a twenty minute set.
There was a photo of Easton in action with the puck that I stared at for longer than I care to admit. Reagan caught me scrolling through the team’s official social media, watching a video of Easton shaking out his damp, messy hair before putting his helmet on. All she had to ask was how many times I let the video loop before I regretted my curiosity.
“You were my good luck charm,” he murmurs.
“Shame that wasn’t the case against my brother’s team,” I tease.
“We’ll play another game against Elmwood before the end of the season. Things will go differently then.” He smirks, unaffected by my heckling. “Will you wish me luck again?”
“Do you need it?” I repeat the same words, though this time they don’t sound jokingly skeptical.
He dips his head, bringing his face almost near enough to kiss me. “Maybe not, but I want it. That’s what matters.”
My breath hitches. He always finds a way to catch me off guard, while also making me relax around him. It’s strange.
Typically, guys like Easton set me on edge. I keep waiting to feel that when I’m around him, and yet…
And yet.
“So…” He scans my face and his throat bobs. “That party is tonight.”
I know what’s coming. I really shouldn’t have risked making the same mistake by challenging Easton to try to win me over because part of me wants to say yes to see what happens.
“Is it?” I reply with a neutral tone.
There’s something sweet about the way his brows pull together in confusion every time I respond differently to how he expects. Too bad for him—I’m not someone willing to throw myself at hockey players, no matter how hot and tempting he is.
He coughs out a laugh and regroups, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he retreats a step.
“Yeah. You know how to get there? Actually, let me give you a ride. I’ll pick you up at, say, seven?”
Smooth. Skipping over inviting me again and acting like I’ve already said yes. Cuts out the chance of rejection. I didn’t miss the offer to pick me up so he knows where I live, either.
“Ohh, close, but no cigar, captain.” I pat his arm and pout. “You botched it when you left it open as a question for me to decide. Have fun.”
He takes my hand, twining our fingers together. It steals my breath when his blue eyes flare with heat and his voice lowers to be smoky and inviting. “We will, baby.”
It takes effort to pull free of his warm grasp. The way his big hand encompasses mine is strangely comforting, making it difficult to remember why I need to say no.
“Withoutme.”
Easton heaves a sigh, broad shoulders sagging and the corners of his mouth turning down. Oh god, his sad puppy eyes will be the death of me. It was difficult enough not to cave to them last week at the donut truck.
Be strong, girl.
