“You sure you’re not a feeder?”
I nod again. “I’m jealous I can’t eat them. So I’m just watching you enjoy them because I can’t. Is that okay? I can go take a shower or something until you’re finished.”
She takes another bite, chewing slowly, swallowing and nodding. “It must be so hard for you.”
Shrugging, I drag my finger through the chocolate sauce on the plate. I need to at least taste it. “It’s not so bad. My girlfriend makes these baller smoothies and juices that all my friends are jealous of. If you decided you don’t want to be a kick ass speech pathologist, you could start your own juice and smoothie company. You’d have your first few dozen repeat customers from the Raccoons.”
“Could be a good side hustle.” She takes another bite, the noises she’s making should be criminal unless she’s naked and under my fingertips.
“That thrum you’re feeling in your spine is anticipation, Satan.”
I should hate how much she knows me, but it’s kind of hot that she can tell from staring at me that my body is reacting to her noises. I mean, my dick isn’t making it a secret. It’s literally telegraphing to her that it’s ready for action.
“How’d you guess?” I gesture to my crotch. “Did my raging hard on give it away?”
She swoops a fingertip of cream from the plate and into my mouth. “No. Dicks get hard all the time, over the most stupid of things, so it’s not a great barometer to be honest.” She gives me another taste of chocolate drizzled cream. “It’s the way your cheeks went red, the way your breathing shifted, and that saucy growl that catches at the back of your throat when you get all hot and bothered.”
“Saucy?”
She shrugs, but I don’t miss the heat creeping into her cheeks too.
“You think I’m saucy?” Why do I claw at compliments from this woman? Is it because she disliked me for so long? I’m sure there’s a psychological reason for that, but I’m not digging into it when she’s looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“How can someone so self-assured and arrogant have doubts about being saucy?” She rolls her eyes like she’s not going to feed me compliments just because I want them.
“Maybe I’m insecure.” Once the words are out, there’s probably something to them. Giving them voice, and space, lands harder than I anticipated.
“You?” She arches an eyebrow and takes another bite. The way she’s savoring these pancakes has me wound tight and ready to spring.
My turn to eye roll. “I know. I can see Tabitha’s headline now. Future NHL superstar vulnerable about his feelings.”
“Don’t give up your day job. Or at least leave the headline to Tabitha. That was kinda weak.”
“I’m opening up here.” I smack her calf. “Can I ask you something?”
She nods, taking another bite.
“Your dad, Oliver, and now me...”
She waves her fork like she’s not sure where I’m going with this.
“I dunno, I feel like you might have feelings about Oliver following in your dad’s footsteps, and me following in mine. Especially after...” He points to his face.
She sighs. “After Dad’s accident, I was afraid. Every time Oli—and you—step out on the ice I’m scared. But nothing I do or don’t do, say or don’t say will make either of you change your mind. You’ve found your passion, your calling, and it’s not up to me to try to talk you out of it. And I know I’d hate it if I found something I loved to do and anyone tried to convince me it was the wrong thing for me to do.”
Shrugging, she carves off another bite. “All I can do is support your choices as best I can, and hope and pray the worst of the injuries are behind us all.”
The air is heavy with her confession, and I don’t really know how to answer what she’s said so I just stare at her like an idiot.
“I’m sharing now, too.” She bumps my arm.
“I know. Does it help to know I’m afraid too? I have nightmares sometimes about my accident. And the thought of playing again... makes my stomach ache. But I’m even more afraid that I’m not good enough to go back. Like they’ll realizeI’m not as good as we all thought I was, and I’ll lose my place on the team. Or worse, they won’t even like me anymore.”
Another silence hangs between us before she speaks again.
“I’m not sure what to say. I’m afraid if I let you get too deep into your feelings you’ll freak out, realize you’re telling me how you feel, and bolt. If I keep poking fun at you, you won’t realize something’s changed.” She grabs me by the front of my shirt and pulls me up the bed toward her. “I like you.”
Her face is so close to mine the tips of our noses are touching. “A lot. I care about you. A lot. And I think you’re attractive, and funny, and smart, and many other things that I probably should tell you more often. And I’m not the only one. All the guys out there,” She gestures at the door with her chin. “They all think the sun shines out your ass, Tate Myers. But more importantly, I wouldn’t grace you with my presence if I didn’t think good things about you. Don’t you know who I am?” She brushes her nose against mine.
