Page 8 of You Had Me at Hockey

His hand is big and warm and not sweaty. I like it.

He is big…I’m average height, five feet, six inches, and he’s got to be well over six feet. And did I mention he’s gorgeous? I don’t get how this is fair when he bashes people around for a living. He wears a layer of scruff that’s almost a beard. His thick eyebrows sit low over brown eyes and his lips…holy fuck cakes, his lips…they are the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen on a man.

He pulls off his knit hat to reveal thick dark hair that falls over his forehead. I want to reach out and gently push it back.

“Likewise,” I say. “Wow, I did not expect you to be so good-looking.” Which is stupid because I saw pictures of him, but in person, he has a magnetism that I can feel right between my legs.

He barks out a dry laugh. “Okay. I guess I could say the same.”

I wave a hand. “Please.” I only got a few hours of sleep last night and my Boi-ing Industrial Strength Concealer isn’t hiding that. I have a zit on my chin and my hair needs washing. I usually don’t give a fuck how I look, but today I kind of wish I’d taken a bit more time with my appearance. “So. Have a seat.” I gesture at the couch. “We’re a bit early so we can chat. Oh, wait, you can hang up your jacket there in the closet.” As usual, I sound like a goof. Stuff just comes out of my mouth.

He takes off his jacket and I watch him like he’s doing a striptease, practically salivating as he reveals nice shoulders and arms in a gray sweater with a shawl collar. When he turns to hang up his jacket, my gaze dips to his ass, which is…magnificent. Those jeans…oh my God.

I feel like fanning myself, but I need to at least pretend to be composed.

“So you’ve just moved to New York,” I say.

“Yep.” He sits on the couch adjacent to me and leans back. “Still figuring things out.”

“It’s a bit overwhelming at first. I remember.” I make a face.

“When did you move here?”

“About five years ago.”

He nods. “I guess you know your way around now.”

“Sort of. Have you found a place to live?”

“Yeah. An apartment on, uh, the west side.”

I smile. “Cool.”

“It’s decent and a good location. A few other players live there too. I haven’t actually moved in yet. I’m waiting for my furniture. Especially my bed.”

His bed. I immediately picture him in his bed. Naked. I bet it’s a big bed…I’m mentally fanning myself again.

“Living in a hotel sucks, though.” He frowns.

“I don’t know. I think I could handle living in a hotel. Room service every night. No cooking or cleaning.”

“There is that.” He nods seriously.

A door opposite us opens and Oliver strides in. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Hey!” I jump up and zip over to hug him. “No worries. Good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too.” He looks at Josh. “Josh Heller. Hi. I’m a fan of yours.”

My eyebrows lift. Oliver is a hockey fan? Who knew?

Josh stands and walks toward us.

“This is Oliver,” I say. “He’s our sound engineer.”

“Hi, Oliver.”

Oliver shakes Josh’s hand vigorously. “It’s so cool to have you playing for the Bears.”

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