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I know Mel and Andie are already there, probably taking cute photos in their matching jackets that have West and Mitch’s numbers on the back. They’ve already grouched at me for going to a game tonight with Dexter, when I’ve refused their invitations for the past year.
I didn’t think I could ever stomach hockey again, and all the memories it would drag up. But Colby seems to have replaced my memories of being cheated on with his big smile, and even bigger dimples. I brush the thought of the dimpled hockey player out of my mind. I promised myself I’d focus 100 percent on Dexter tonight. I owe it to him, and to myself, to give this a chance. To see if we could hit it off.
But even the drive here made me wish for the easy conversation and companionable silence I have with Colby. Or his flirtatious, teasing comments that keep me from having to fill the silent spaces. It’s like Colby takes up every space, silent or loud. Big, or small. He pours himself in and fills every crack. Maybe that’s what he did to my heart.
I sigh heavily as it occurs to me that I’m thinking about Colby, again.
Dexter is watching the pregame interviews intently, but turns to look at me suddenly. “The two boys in your class were denied their request to switch to mine. How are things going with them. Are they passing?”
“They’re doing alright. Passing, but barely.” I force a smile. “I told them about the study group that meets in the library, and they didn’t act interested. Of course, I want all of my students to succeed, but their hockey schedule and training regime, has not changed from what they expected before starting at Arlington University. I still don’t feel like I should I extend their deadlines.”
He nods, listening with interest. “Right. You have a point. But the hockey program does bring in a lot of money for the school.”
I smile back at him, scrunching my face up in a that’s cute expression. “So, did you ask me on a date to talk about work? Or?”
He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “No, of course not. Sorry, I can be laser focused on work sometimes.”
I give him a genuine smile this time, allowing myself to relax. “Yeah, we have that in common. If I’m not thinking about work, I’m doing research on something or other.”
He chuckles. One of the bartenders comes over to take our order. We both request the fish and chips. When the bartender leaves us, Dexter turns to me again. His dark eyes gaze into mine, they’re different than Colby’s bright blues, but very pretty. His strong jaw is also attractive. Tonight, he’s more casual than usual, in dark jeans and a Remington jersey for the game. “What do you like to do when you’re not working or researching?” he asks.
“Read. I love to read,” I answer quickly.
His face brightens and I feel hopeful for the first time since he picked me up. Finally, we have something in common besides work. “What do you enjoy reading?”
“I adore fantasy. Lord of the Rings is a favorite. But I also love anything with romance. The classics, like Jane Austen and the Brontë sisters, or even contemporary novels.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Romance, really? I’m surprised you’re into all of that fluff.”
“Romance isn’t just fluff. Romance gives people joy and hope in the form of a beautiful story. What could be better than that?”
“Karl Marx, Socrates, Aristotle.”
I groan. “You enjoy sports but have the most boring TBR ever.”
“I’m sorry, what’s a TBR?” He looks offended.
Wow, this is going great. “To be read. A list of books you’re going to read.”
His face softens, and he laughs. “Those philosophers aren’t on my,” he gives a haughty pause. “T. B. R. I’ve already read them all.”
I want to slow-clap for him and tell him he’s a good boy, but I hold back. We still have an entire hockey game to get through. “You don’t even like J. R. R. Tolkien?”
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. As if J. R. R. Tolkien isn’t even worthy of a double-shouldered shrug. “The Lord of the Rings is alright, I guess. I actually thought the movies were better.”
My jaw drops, but he doesn’t see it because our food arrives. Thank goodness, something to keep our mouths busy so we don’t have to make conversation anymore. Why did I think we’d be a good match? Besides the fact that we both have a doctorate in history, we have absolutely nothing in common. Maybe Gram was right, maybe I do need more spice.
CHAPTER 22
COLBY
I’m wound up, shoulders tense, head throbbing. I wonder if this is how Mitch used to feel before games, before he went to therapy and got engaged to the girl of his dreams. If this is how he felt, it’s no wonder he wanted to punch everything.
West is standing next to me in the tunnel we enter the ice from. The starting lineup is about to be announced before the game starts. He jabs me with his elbow. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”
Bruce hums thoughtfully. I can barely see him since he’s strapped into his full goalie gear. “Yeah, I was wondering the same thing. You’re giving pre-Andie Mitch vibes.”
“Hey,” Mitch says from across the hallway, crossing his arms and bristling like he’s offended.
