“Almost there, sir,” my driver says.
“Thanks,” I say, then I text Sarah a quick heads-up.
She’s just stepping out of the building when we pull up to the curb, and the sight of her stops my breath. She looks stunning, giving new meaning to the phraselittle black dress.The one she’s wearing is hugging her curves in all the right places. Her hair is down, and she isn’t wearing her glasses.
As I climb out of the car, she takes the coat draped over her arm and wraps it around her shoulders, slipping her arms through the sleeves. It hangs past her knees, but that still feels like a lot of leg exposed in this cold, and I’m struck with a sudden urge to wrap her up in my arms just to make sure she doesn’t freeze.
“Hey,” I say as soon as I’m standing in front of her. I take in her warm gaze, and something inside me settles. “You look amazing.”
She leans forward and presses a kiss to my cheek, and I lift a hand to the curve of her waist, closing my eyes as I breathe her in.
“Thanks,” she says as she pulls back. “You too.”
I take a step toward the car and hold out a hand. “Ready?”
I help her into the SUV, then jog around to the other side to get in myself. She’s buckled her seatbelt by the time I’m in my seat, her hands clutching a tiny gold bag like her life depends on it.
“Sorry about the game,” she says, and I wave away her concern.
“Don’t worry about it. We can’t win them all.”
“How did you play?”
“Terrible,” I say. “But Theo had a great night, and he was due for one.”
Sarah studies me for a second. “I maybe shouldn’t ask this question, but I’m guessing people compare the two ofyou a lot. Is one of you…” She hesitates. “Actually, I don’t think Icanask you that.”
I smile. “Is one of us better than the other?”
She grimaces. “Thatiswhat I was going to ask, but then I thought better of it.”
“Don’t worry about asking. You’re right. People do compare, but our stats are surprisingly similar. He scores more than I do, but I have more points overall because I get more assists.”
“I read an article that talked about yournear telepathicconnection on the ice,” she says.
It’s not quite the same as watching me play, but I do like that she’s looking me up. “So you’re reading about me now?”
She shoots me a playful look. “Don’t let it go to your head. You googled me first.”
“And look at us now,” I say.
She laughs. “I don’t think I would have predicted where we are now in a million years.”
“I might have,” I say, watching her eyes widen, “but maybe notexactlylike this.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment, a question behind her eyes. I don’t want to freak her out, but it’s never been hard for me to imagine us in a relationship—not since the first day I met her.
A moment later, Sarah’s phone buzzes, and she breaks eye contact, looking down to slip it out of her purse. I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if the circumstances were different. If I were meeting her after a game just because I like her. Then again, I’m still not sure she would have agreed to go out with me, so maybe it’s a moot point.
Would she have chosen me just because? Chosen me forme? It sucks that I’ll never actually know.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Just Emerson.” She turns her phone to show me a photo of a family standing in a theater, a little girl at the center of the group dressed like a tree. “That’s Jeremy’s niece. Tonight was her school play. And this guy on the end is Emerson.”
“Looks like a nice guy,” I say, the embarrassment over my stupidly jealous reaction triggered all over again.
“He really is. He studied interior design at SCAD. He’s still in Savannah, working for a firm there. But he agreed to help me with your place, so you’ll get to see his brilliance firsthand.”
