Page 7 of The Trade Up

First name:Star Trek.

Last name:Guy.

“You could change it, you know,” I say.

“Nah. It fits.”

We walk down the steps and back toward the railing of the viewing area nearer the city. “I’m going to name you Ashleigh Seattle, then.”

“I bet your contacts are full of girls with first names and the last name is just the city where you met them.” That comment gives me pause, but I guess anyone who travels for work could use that strategy—it doesn’t mean she knows I’m a professional athlete.

I hit “save” on her contact info, then go back to the screen with my complete list of contacts. I hold up the phone so she can see.

“You have like eight contacts. Is this a new phone or something?”

“No. As a rule, I don’t give my number out to people.”

She eyes me skeptically, one light eyebrow lifting higher than the other. “You gave it to me.”

“Yeah, well…you felt worth breaking my rule for.”

“Zach,” she says my name on an exhale, and pauses, her eyes locked on mine. I step toward her, noticing for the first time that she has some barely visible freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, but Iwantto know you.” I have no idea why I’m being so honest with her right now, except that this is the first time since I’ve been in the NHL that I’ve met someone who I feel like I could really connect with. It’s not just Star Trek or that she knows a thing or two about hockey, it’s also the way she deferred grad school to take care of her uncle, and her interest in science. I’m fascinated by her brain and her big heart, not just her body…though I’d like to get to know that part of her better, too.

ChapterFour

ASHLEIGH

“You probably say that to all the girls,” I say with an awkward laugh.

He takes one small step forward, just enough that he’s solidly in my space. I have plenty of room to back up if I want to, but I stay put. His deep voice is quiet when he says, “I think the contact list on my phone is proof that I don’t.”

“You’re only here for one more day,” I remind him.

“I could come back. There’s this amazing technology called airplanes that lets you cross the country in mere hours.”

I tilt my head back so I’m looking up at him. This close, I can see the sandy stubble that covers his jaw, which wasn’t there a couple hours ago when I first noticed him in the diner, and a faint scar across his right eyebrow. I want to know how he got that scar, if he’s as close with his mom as he seems, which season of Star Trek is his favorite, and what he does for work.

But mostly, right at this moment, I want to know what he looks like with his hat off, and if his body is as defined as it appears under his hoodie and joggers. And even if I never get answers to my other questions, even if it’s only one night, I want to explore this attraction with him.

“Transporters would be a lot more efficient,” I joke, referencing the teleportation devices made famous by the mis-quote of Captain Kirk, who never actually said “Beam me up, Scotty.”

“And yet I’d be willing to sit for hours on a commercial flight just to see you again.” He bites his lower lip and all I can think about is what those lips would feel like on mine. The thought has me licking my own lips and I don’t miss the way his eyes register the movement. “You’re shivering,” he says, reaching out and running his hands up and down my arms.

I didn’t even notice. “I probably need someone to keep me warm,” I tease as I step forward so my body is flush against his.

He wraps one arm around my lower back, anchoring me to him, and his other hand sweeps along my jaw as his fingers thread into the hair behind my ear. And then he’s dipping his head toward mine and I’m closing my eyes, but instead of his lips meeting mine like I expect, I feel his cheek scratch against mine and his breath caresses my ear. “The things I want to do in order to keep you warm would be highly inappropriate out in the open like this.”

I’m pretty sure a strangled whimper slips out of the back of my throat.

“I live right around the corner.”

“Are you serious?” he asks, pulling back and tilting my face up to his.

“I am.”

“And are you inviting me over?”

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