After my morningwith Marcus and Brax, I’m drained and bent out of shape. Part of me believes I left Lottie’s Scoops with more questions than I sat down with.
I check the time on my phone when I open the door to Bakes by the Lakes for a much-needed caffeine fix—or three.
It’s 10:02 in the morning, and Roman’s Little League game starts at three. If I time it right, I can get home, work out some of the frustration inside of me, and still make it.
Just as I’m about to pocket my phone, a text message pops up from Brodie. I frown at it as I swipe to reply.
Brodie: Hockey Boy!
Me: Bella?
Brodie: Yes, it’s me. I need a favor.
Me: What’s up?
Brodie: I left my bag in your car last night. They have Brodie’s keys in them—for the batting cages. Do you think you can bring it?
Me: I gave your bag to Erin when I realized you left it.
Brodie: Well, Hockey Boy, this is excellent news. Are you near a coffee shop by any chance?
Me: As a matter of fact, I am.
Brodie: Then order my sister a pistachio latte, and get your cute butt over to hers. Grab Brodie’s keys and tell her you want to hang out. Bring her to the game.
Me: That won’t freak her out?
Brodie: Oh, it most definitely will. But I think you’re just what she needs. I think you’re perfect for each other.
Me: Are you playing matchmaker, Bella?
Brodie: Manifesting. Unless you’re not interested?
Me: I never said that.
Brodie: Excellent. See you later.
Brodie: You don’t have a cute butt.
Me: Hi, Brodie.
I pocketmy phone on a chuckle and order an espresso for myself, which I down in one go, and an extra hot pistachio latte for Erin. I exit the café and begin my walk to hers.
I thought about Erin all night.
How could I not?
She’s beautiful. But it’s more than that.
Last night, I found myself watching her, reallywatchingher. I couldn’t look away. It’s scary how easily she’s gotten under my skin.
I’m not used to this.
I don’t do relationships.
Never have.
I’ve never wanted to take a girl out on a date before, not since I started my career as a professional hockey player.
