Page 7 of Mr. Swoony

“I’ll walk you out,” Eloise says, pulling me from admiring her.

“No need, I can see myself out.” I turn to walk out of the room.

She follows me. “Want a snack from the mini bar?”

I stop and turn around in the living area of the suite.

“For the road, of course,” she quickly adds before I can say anything.

A laugh slips from my throat because I’m starting to like her as a person.

“I wouldn’t have thought otherwise, but I’m good, thanks.” I’m hungry, but I need to get the hell out of here before I try to fix any more of her problems.

She holds out a piece of chocolate. “At least take Penelope’s pillow chocolate. It’s the least she can do to pay you back.”

I take the chocolate, and our fingers graze one another’s. I ignore the softness of her touch. “Not really, but I’ve got a sweet tooth, so I’ll never deny chocolate.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a sweet tooth kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy did you peg me for?” I hate how curious I am to hear her answer.

She looks me in the eye, long and hard, causing me to stare into her gray ones. How rare is that? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone with gray eyes. They look like cloudy skies with a hint of mystery, but they’re still layered with warmth.

“Beef jerky.”

My attention is pulled back to our conversation.

“I like jerky, but I’d pick sweet over salty every time.” I unwrap the chocolate and plop the goodness into my mouth. Damn, it’s tasty.

“You’re enjoying it.”

I swallow the chocolate and smile. “It was really good.”

“Then let me give you mine.” She shifts to walk back into the bedroom, but I grab her hand.

“Believe me, you want yours.”

She stops and looks at my hand on her wrist.

I drop my grip. I’m starting to wish she wasn’t engaged, and that is a problem. “Honestly, you’re going to love it.”

She nods, which surprises me, and eyes the door again. Got it. I’m overstaying my welcome.

“It’s been fun, Lulu.” I walk backward.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Thanks for all your help tonight. I hope you score a lot of… whatever they’re called this season.”

This girl pulls more laughter from me than my teammates do in the locker room. I’m starting to feel like one of those annoying giggling girls who approach me at a bar but are too nervous to have a conversation without acting as if everything I say is so damn funny.

“Goals, but I don’t score them.”

Her head tilts, and her forehead scrunches. She’s fucking adorable.

I need to get the hell out of here.

“I’m the goalie. I stop the goals.”

Her storm-cloud eyes widen. “That’s scary.” Her gaze flows down my body, and I realize that I like it a little too much.

---