Page 19 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

“Need to work with what I have.” He winks at me.

I saw him in the bathroom without his shirt on. He’s working with a lot.

Both of his black brows rise and a slow smile spreads across his full lips like he read my thoughts. My flaming cheeks are probably a dead giveaway.

“We’re going downstairs for dinner. Do you want to join us?” Dec asks.

I look at Brick. I don’t know what is normal for road trips. She’s the athlete and I don’t want to disturb her routine.

“Sounds good. It’s too cold to go somewhere outside.”

We lock our rooms and take the elevator downstairs. It’s the four of us in the elevator, but Declan is at my side. He’s so close enough I can feel his body heat. I wish I could snuggle into him and steal some of his warmth. Except for when I snuggled under the flannel sheets Dec loaned me, I’ve been cold ever since I arrived in New Jersey.

The elevator doors open, and Dec’s hand lightly touches my back as he motions for me to exit before him. His touch sizzles up my spine and to my scalp. I glance in the mirror as we pass to see if my hair is standing on end from the electricity. Amazingly, it’s not.

We cross the lobby to the steakhouse, and I worry about being underdressed. Then I realize I’m walking in with three professional athletes who are guests of the hotel, one whose family owns the whole chain. I guess I’m good in my slacks and sweater.

The hostess greets us warmly and asks if we want to be seated near the rest of the team. We agree and get a table near the dozen players and staff already here. Liam is with Logan, Daphne, and Bedard.

“What’s our per diem?” I whisper to Brick. I don’t know why I bothered. I’m around shifters who all have superior hearing.

“No per diem, get what you want, Randi,” Coach calls out. “Well, for food, get what you want. We cover one alcoholic drink. If you want more than that, it’s on you.”

“Thanks,” I say with a smile. My cheeks are flaming. Is everyone looking at me and thinking I’m a loser for worrying about the cost? It’s not that I can’t afford to eat. I don’t want to put a foot wrong and get in trouble.

“You’re fine,” Dec murmurs.

The guys get ribeye steaks, and Brick gets grilled salmon. I choose a turkey melt. None of us get alcohol.

“You don’t like steak?” Stone asks.

“I do. But I don’t want something too heavy. I want dessert.”

“Peanut butter pie or the brownie sundae?” Dec asks. Of course, he knows my favorites.

“Not sure.”

“You get the pie. I’ll get the brownie and have them hold the almonds. We’ll share,” Dec says.

It’s silly to get misty he remembers I don’t like almonds, but I’m touched. That’s why Declan is wonderful. He notices the little things and remembers them.

The conversation over dinner is about tomorrow night’s game against the Spokane Sasquatch and their wing, Oliver King. He’s a Bigfoot shifter, so of course he’s been tapped to be the face of the team. I watched some game highlights and he’s a skilled player, but isn’t comfortable in front of the camera, judging from the interviews I’ve seen.

Brick and Stone leave while Dec and I are sharing our desserts. The peanut butter pie is incredible.

“Do all the Clardmore hotels have this on their dessert menu?” I ask. If they do, I’ll be gaining a couple of pounds each road trip.

Dec shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Each hotel has its own special restaurant, and the menu is up to the chef.”

“Oh.” I try to mask my disappointment. It’s a pie, nothing important, but it would be nice to have something to look forward to in each town. Something to rely on. I’ve always lived such a nomadic life I always search for a person or a thing or even a food to be familiar with and be able to count on it. I never find it and I’ve learned to rely on myself, but it would be nice to have a tradition.

As if he reads my mind, Declan puts his hand on mine and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Every time we play in Spokane, we will come here and get pie. Even if we aren’t staying here. Me and you. Okay?”

I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. How can this man effortlessly know what I need and give it to me? My own parents are too busy to do that, but it comes naturally to Declan.

I nod and let out a croaky, “Yeah.”

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