“I already called you a ride-share,” he says. “It’s going to be at the side entrance in two minutes.”
Skylar gives me a kiss on the cheek as I stand, and Rhodes follows before I walk my family out a side door to catch a ride-share to the restaurant.
“They’re so doting,” Mom says, shaking her head. “Are they always like that?”
“Pretty much,” I admit.
Even when it’s against my will.
“No offense, but I’m a little jealous,” my sister sighs. “Don’t they get jealous?”
“Not at all,” I chuckle, checking the plate against the text Skylar sent me. It came in just as we stepped onto the sidewalk.
While they’re not perfect, I suppose being flawed and adoring works better.
Opening the back door, I step back for my family to get in before walking around to the front passenger door. The snow cleared up, but it’s still cold enough for the overcoat I’m wearing.
It’s just a fact of life in Minnesota.
“Hi, is it alright if I sit here?” I ask politely, poking my head into the car once I open the door.
“Of…Wow,” the driver breathes. Realizing he recognized me, I grin.
“Thank you,” I reply, sliding into the seat as I close the door behind me.
“Yep,” the driver squeaks out, pulling forward as I put my seatbelt on. He has dark hair, wide eyes, tanned skin, and is an omega. I can tell he’s a little awestruck, but I really am just a person.
“It’s okay, he’s used to people losing their ability to speak around him,” Silvia says.
“Ugh, my brother and I love hockey,” he admits. “This is my last pick up of the day, and then I’m going home to watch how the game went tonight with my brother.”
“I can sign whatever you’d like,” I say gently. I’m rarely the person who is asked for autographs, mostly because I’m not as available. “It may help that you missed seeing the game live.”
It’s not that I don’t want to be, I’m simply an introvert.
“I don’t watch hockey unless my brother is playing, and even I have to admit it was a good game,” Silvia says.
The driver chuckles before nodding. “If you don’t mind, Koen. That would be amazing. I keep a notepad with me.”
As he hands it to me, I watch how careful he is as he drives. His eyes never move from the road, and he takes his turns carefully since there’s still some icy spots.
Opening the notebook, I see there are poems written on the pages. Not wanting to pry, I find an empty page and ask, “Who can I make this out to?”
“My brother’s name is Paulo,” he says, his voice full of affection.
I sign it out to Paulo, and then ask, “What’s your name?”
Since Skylar booked the ride share, and he only sent me the license plate number, I don’t have access to that information. Idon’t know why, but I have a feeling he forgets to give it. He may also enjoy hanging in the shadows.
I don’t get to do that as much anymore because of the fame from hockey, but it’s a trade off I can usually handle.
“Alfonso,” he says, blushing. He’s adorable.
Switching to another page, I sign that one out to him as we arrive at the restaurant.
“Thanks for being so careful on the roads,” I say, popping the notebook and pen in the cup holder.
The doors open as he nods, and we all get out and walk quickly into the restaurant.
