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You’re bad at this.

Mitch

Andie Downsby, would you please do me the honor of coming over to my penthouse for dinner this evening?

Andie

Why yes, Mitchell Anderson, I would love to.

Rolling my eyes, I correct her.

Mitch

My name isn’t Mitchell. It’s just Mitch.

I text her the address and time before ordering dinner for us online, soup and sandwiches from one of my favorite restaurants. I would’ve gone for pasta, but I’ve eaten too many carbs, and too little protein during my suspension. I need to get back on track.

* * *

Half an hour later, I’m walking into my building. When I see the receptionist at the front desk, I remember one more thing I need to take care of and walk over until I’m standing right in front of her.

“Hey, I’m in the penthouse… Mitch Anderson.”

The young woman looks up at me and her eyes widen with recognition. “Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

I attempt a slight smile because she looks a little terrified of me. “I’d like to add Andie Downsby to my list of approved guests.”

“Okay, I can do that for you, Mr. Anderson. Is Andie Downsby just approved for this evening?” She asks, then starts typing on the computer in front of her.

“No, indefinitely.”

She pauses and peeks over the computer screen, then snaps her eyes back down and starts typing and clicking again. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” I nod, then walk toward the elevator. Once I’m inside the elevator I allow a wide smile to spread across my face. A smile that’s been threatening to appear since Andie agreed to come over tonight. I think my facial muscles may be getting used to smiling, actually.

I rub my palms together. It’s all coming together. I will finally get Andie all to myself.

CHAPTER 22

MITCH

That evening, my doorbell rings. I look in the large mirror in my bathroom one last time to make sure I look okay. I went simple tonight with a soft black t-shirt and dark-wash jeans.

Rushing out of my room and down the hallway, I take a calming breath before swinging the front door open. Andie’s wearing jeans, her usual white sneakers, and a long-sleeved wine-colored top that stops right at the waistband of her jeans, so when she moves, a sliver of her stomach peaks out.

Suddenly, I remember her little outie belly button and have a difficult time prying my eyes away from that sliver of skin on her abdomen. I blink a few times and look away, opening the door wide and stepping aside to make room for her to come in.

Andie comes in and holds her arms out at her sides. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure how casual one dresses for a little-brother-scheduling-conference non-date.”

Tilting my head, I pin her with an unamused stare. She laughs and takes a few more steps into my penthouse. I run a hand through my hair, then rest it on the back of my neck, feeling nervous now that she’s here and we’re alone… for the first time. Ever.

“Nice place, Big Man. Fancy.” She spins in a slow circle, taking in the entire open living room, dining room, kitchen area. Her stare lingers on the huge chef’s kitchen. “You don’t strike me as someone who loves to cook.”

I huff out a laugh. “I don’t mind cooking, but I usually order meals for the week since my NHL schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

She nods. “Yeah, I feel you there. Not the NHL schedule, but the ICU one. So, are you going to give me a tour? I wanna see the giant bathtub.”

“Noah told you?”