“I like to call it confidence.”
“Sure.” Her lips threatened to break into a smile. I made a silent vow to myself that I would get her smile one way or another.
“What do you usually get here?” I asked.
“Pizza, obviously.”
I shot her a no-shit look to which she smirked in response.
“I get the mushroom and banana pepper pizza.”
“Not a pineapple on pizza kind of girl?” I questioned. It wasn’t necessarily a make-or-break thing for me, but it was definitely a choice.
“Who do you take me for?” Emmie scrunched her nose up. “No, thank you.”
“I knew I liked you. My sister-in-law loves pineapple on hers.” I shook my head like it was a travesty.
When the waitress came by a second later, I gestured for Emmie to order first. Once it was my turn, I told her my order, ignoring the way she was staring at me. It was subtle, but I noticed the way she shifted closer to my side of the booth, hip cocked out as her eyes roamed what parts she could see.
I was used to the staring and the hints from women, but it still made things awkward and uncomfortable especially when I had someone I was interested in across from me. Emmie leaned back, arms crossed, eyes bouncing back andforth between the waitress and me. I couldn’t tell if she was amused or not.
The few women I’d been with over the years used to get pissed at the attention I would get from others when we were out. I never indulged in it, but it typically became the reason we never made it past a few dates.
As the waitress opened her mouth, probably to say something flirty, I grabbed our menus and held them out for her to take. “Thank you.”
The waitress made a small noise but left to put our order in—thankfully.
When I looked back at Emmie, she was smirking. “Well, aren’t you a ladies man.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling that familiar twinge of discomfort when others witnessed the blatant flirting. “That happens a lot.”
She must have seen something in my expression that sobered her. A look I couldn’t decipher crossed her face. Sympathy? Curiosity?
“Sorry, I bet that gets a bit frustrating and annoying.”
“It can be.” I shrugged. “You get used to it.” It wasn't like I could change the amount of attention I got.
“Just because you’re used to it, doesn’t mean you should be. Yes, you play a sport and are good at it, but it doesn’t give people the right to make you uncomfortable.”
There was a bite to her tone that made my eyebrows raise. Emmie was defending me, but there was something in her expression that told me she knew where I was coming from. My intrigue grew.Who was she exactly?
Back at the rink, I noticed the way she hesitated to answer when I asked what she did for a living. A hesitation that only came when you were unsure how someone would respond. I’d been there with my brother's career as well as my own.
There was more to Emmie, and I was curious to learn what she was hiding.
“So,” I brought my arms down on the table and leaned forward, “want to play a small game of Two Truths and a Lie?”
I didn’t want to straight-up ask her questions that would force her to be vulnerable, so a little game couldn’t hurt to break the ice.
“Are we at a sleepover?” Emmie gave the restaurant a pointed look.
“Come on, don’t be a wuss.” The flare of competitiveness in her eyes told me I had her. She was an athlete. She wasn’t about to back down from something, even if it was a stupid game.
“Fine, I’ll go first.”
Fighting a smile, I nodded for her to go ahead, clasping my hands in front of me. I could practically see the gears in her head working to come up with answers.
“I’ve swam with sharks, I’m a natural blonde, and I’m allergic to oranges.” Emmie kept her face straight as she spoke.
