Summoning up what energy I still have after a tough practice, I head toward her front door and give a knock that sounds more confident than I feel.
I know that confidence was one of the things Bexley told me to have, but it’s hard. Hard not to convince myself that anywoman I’m going to find will only want me for the material things I have.
My position as the starting goalie for the Black Diamonds and the money that comes with it.
When Bexley opens the door, a weird fluttery feeling I haven’t felt in a long time settles in my gut.
She’s in a curve-hugging tank top and a pair of running shorts. All that hair is pulled into a wild bun on top of her head, and her feet are bare. Her face has no hint of makeup on it.
It’s a contrast to how I’ve always seen her. Bexley never looks less than perfect at the office. Maybe it’s her wall she puts up for the world to see. The wall she puts up when she tries to date.
This is a completely different woman than I’m used to.
“Hey. Did you find the place okay?” she asks. Her smile is wide and welcoming as she throws her arm out to usher me inside.
“Uh, yeah.”
It’s hard not to stare at how nice her house is. Everything is perfectly in its place.
Two large sofas sit facing each other in front of a stone fireplace, the focal point in the room. A vase with fresh flowers sits on the mantel. Old time hockey pictures line the gray walls mixed in with pictures of family. A set of stairs is off to one side before it opens to the kitchen, which is all white and marble with stainless steel appliances.
It’s soft, yet hard at the same time.
Kind of like Bexley, I’m learning.
“You want anything to drink?” she asks, breaking me out of my perusal of her house.
The windows at the back of the house open up to a small yard that leads out to a creek. It’s like her own little oasis in the middle of the city.
“Uh, I’ll just do water.”
“You sure you don’t want anything stronger? I know I could use it.” She smirks at me.
“Well, I’ll have whatever you’re having then.” I give her a smile back
“Agreeable. First thing a woman likes in a man.”
“Really?”
Bexley’s laughter is warm and playful. “Nick, you can have whatever you want to drink. It makes no difference to me.”
I laugh at that. “Alright, if you’ve got a bourbon, I’ll take a bourbon.”
“Bourbon? That’s an interesting choice.”
I watch as she strides to a small liquor cabinet and pulls out two glasses and what looks to be an expensive bottle of bourbon.
“Well, it’s my dad’s drink of choice, so when my sister and I turned twenty-one, he made sure we knew how to drink it and drink it properly.”
“I feel like there’s more to that story,” Bexley says, eyeing me.
I scrub a nervous hand down the back of my neck. Bexley picks up on my nerves immediately.
“Since we’re here to get to know each other and figure this whole dating thing out together, why don’t you tell me more?”
“Aren’t you just diving right into the deep end?”
Bexley grabs two square ice cubes from the freezer for our glasses and then pours a hearty sample of the amber liquid into each one, before passing mine over.
