“Oh, it’s just a romance book,” she says, dismissing it with her hand.
“Aspicyromance book?” I wag my brows. Her eyes widen just a tad, and I know I’m right.
My little minx.
“Not that I’m saying guys can’t read romance, but how do you know what a spicy romance book is?”
I chuckle as my mind travels back in time to Valerie’s first week with the team. She’d been hired as our social media and content creator.
We were heading to an away series when Valerie left her seat to answer a call from her cousin, Mad Dog. Rudy took the opportunity to peek at what she was reading.
He read a spicy cowboy passage to the entire plane. Valerie came storming over when she heard us shaking with laughter and proceeded to tell us there was nothing wrong with a book that had spice, especially if it had a great plot.
What Valerie did next?
The ultimate revenge.
“For the entire month of February, Valerie, our team’s content creator, had players read a quote from different hockey romance books and posted them over Instagram. The fans ate it up.”
“That’s amazing,” Erin beams.
“There was only one person the fans really wanted to hear talk dirty to them. Our grumpy captain and center, Hayes Borelli.”
Erin barks out a laugh. “Do you still remember your quote?”
“‘Tell me you want me. Tell me that you think about me as much as I think about you. Tell me there’s no one else that makes you feel the way I do. Tell me what I want to hear, so I can finally call you, mine.’”
A beautiful, slow bloom coats her cheeks, and she turns her head, avoiding my eyes. I want that color on every surface, in every corner of my space. All I can think about is kissing her to see what else I can do to her. The words may not be mine, but I mean every single one.
“You have a strong memory,” she says.
“Thank you.” I dip my head. “Now, tell me about the book.”
Her lips part in a wide grin. “It’s an enemies-to-lovers trope. A hockey player who falls for the tutor that hates him because he was mean to her in grade school and stole her pudding cups to give to other girls at recess.”
She twists a little more on the bench, facing me fully as she carries on, clearly in her element.
She’s going a hundred miles an hour. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s completely mesmerizing.
When she’s done, her tone shifts.
“Everything I’m planning is what I wish I couldstillbe doing at W&B. If only we still had the budget.”
“You can’t please everybody all the time, Erin,” I say. “Sometimes things change. Maybe it’s time to move on.”
She pauses, letting the words sink in, a thoughtful crease in her brow. Then the spark hits and her cheeks rise, giving her face an almost childlike glow. It’s a smile that radiates pure happiness. Her eyes light up as she launches into an idea she has about trading cards for hockey players, their skills mixed with their personality traits and a few tropes in the book.
I don’t even care that I already know what a trope is when she tells me. I just love listening to her talk.
I love her presence.
Her smile.
Her everything.
And I desperately want to take her out on a date.
“What will you start with first?”
