Page 9 of Their Obsession

Swiftly spinning around, my gaze locks with a pair of stormy gray eyes. Noah’s face lights up when our eyes meet, a wide smile brightening up his face. He’s dressed in a casual white button down and jeans. The sleeves to his shirt are rolled up, exposing his corded forearms. What is it that’s so sexy about a man’s muscular arms?

“You ready, Sunshine?” he asks me, and something about the nickname has my stomach spinning.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” I turn back around to grab my bag and chance a glance at Coach Karr. His gaze is locked on Noah. I can see the wheels turning in his head, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“There is absolutely no way your dad is Paul Pettersen.ThePaul Pettersen?” Noah’s mouth hangs open in shock as he stares at me with wide eyes. Usually I don’t tell people who my famous father is, too scared they’ll judge me on his legacy and not my own. But Noah was gushing on and on about howThePaul Pettersen was his hockey idol and the reason he got into the sport, so I couldn’t not tell him. The look on his face is totally worth revealing my secret.

I can’t help but laugh as I take another bite of my french fry. Much to my relief, Noah didn’t try to impress me by taking me to some douchey night club or something. We’re currently tucked into a back booth of a cute little dive bar near the arena. The smell of oil and cheese permeates the air and the pale wooden table top is sticky with spilled beer. It’s absolutely perfect.

“I swear it,” I tell him as he gawks at me.

“The picture!” he exclaims, and I give him a quizzical look because I have no idea what picture he’s talking about. “In your apartment there’s a picture of you and two people who I assumed were your parents. I thought your dad looked familiar but I couldn’t figure out where I knew him from.”

I know what picture he’s talking about. It was from my grad school graduation. He’s right–my dad definitely doesn’t look the same as he used to look fifteen years ago all suited up in his gear. It’s stupid to have that picture out. It would raise questions if anyone ever came over and saw it and recognized my dad, but the truth is I never have anyone over except Emily anyway, so it’s never been a problem until now.

“Why do you think I’m so knowledgeable about the sport?” I take another bite of my burger before washing it down with a sip of cold beer. The carbonation tickles my nose, and I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. Noah is nice and he makes me laugh. This is the lightest and most relaxed that I’ve felt in a verylong time, maybe ever.

A wicked gleam shines in his eye before he quips, “I just thought you were just a very clever little puck bunny.” He shrugs as if he didn’t just call me a hockey hoe.

I feign offense even though I know he’s kidding, scoffing and throwing my balled up paper napkin at him. He put his hands up to block the paper from hitting his face. When he lowers them back down, he’s smiling from ear to ear. Dimples pinch in each of his checks. He’s so attractive that it’s hard not to stare. With his slicked back dirty blonde hair, intense eyes, and golden skin. He looks like something out of a magazine. I can see why he has a large social media following full of adoring women. Not that I went and stalked his Instagram profile or anything. Emily did that for me.

“I can’t believe you just accused me of being a puck bunny! I am definitely not going to FaceTime my dad and let you say hi now,” I snark at him despite the permanent smile that seems to be plastered to my face.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want you doing that anyway. I’d be terrified of that man finding out that I’m taking his daughter out on a date. He could quite literally knock my head clean off my body.” Noah laughs as he goes to take another swig of beer from his pint glass.

“I mean it’s not like I was going to FaceTime my dad while riding you reverse cowgirl—,” the words fly from my mouth before I can stop them.

Noah chokes on the beer he was sipping, his face turning bright red as he attempts to regain his composure. He coughs repeatedly, his eyes wide. Heat blooms across my chest and cheeks, my pale skin no doubt flaming with embarrassment. I bury my face in my palms, hiding in shame. It’s been so long since I’ve even attempted to flirt, much less on a date, so of course I said something stupid. I groan loudly.

“Hey,” Noah’s soft palm lands on the back of my own. His voiceis a bit strained from coughing as he tries to reassure me. “Why are you hiding? Please don’t hide from me.”

Gently, I let him pry my fingers from my face. But he doesn’t let go. He holds my hand in his from across the table. “Lilly, I like you. I’ve had a crush on you pretty much since the moment I met you. I’m really happy you agreed to go out with me. Please tell me I didn’t just ruin this.”

His stormy eyes flit across my face, sincerity written in his expression. He’s so sweet and cute. The knot of embarrassment that had been forming in my stomach begins to loosen.

“So why the name change?” Noah asks as we continue picking at our meals. “Pettersen to Stevens?”

I take a moment to figure out my plan. I rarely let people get close enough that I have to explain exactly why I’m hiding from my past—why I needed to start over. Maybe a partial truth is the best way to go. He doesn’t need to know the whole truth. That’d scare him away.

“I didn’t want to live in my dad’s shadow. I wanted people to respect me for me and not because I was a famous player’s daughter. Plus, Stevens is my mother’s maiden name so it wasn’t really a stretch.”

Hoping that answer suffices, I take a long swig of my beer. The alcohol should dull the spike of anxiety that comes from even the slight recollection of the past. Noah seems satisfied with my answer. I just hope he doesn’t ask many more questions. I can’t have him digging too deeply into my past; that would be dangerous for everyone involved.

A clearing of a throat from my left pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see our waitress standing at the edge of the table. “Anything else I can get you two tonight?” she asks us.

My eyes flick back to Noah, questioning him. But he looks right back at me, letting me take the lead. It’s nice, refreshing even.

I return my focus back to the blonde college girl. “No, that’sall. We’ll just take the check.” I’ve barely finished the sentence when Noah slips his hand from mine, retrieving his card from his wallet and handing it to the waitress.

I wonder if my mention of sex has got him wanting to get out of here quickly. Will he want to come back to my place? Is that weird for a first date? Or maybe it’s expected? Shit, I haven’t dated in so long, I’m not even sure what’s appropriate or not. I really should have asked Emily about first date protocol. The way his muscles flex in his corded forearms though has me longing to feel his body wrapped around mine though.

When the waitress returns with the card, he swiftly signs and stands, offering me his hand. I can feel my stomach drop at the thought of bringing him home; or will he take me back to his house? My nerves are shot. I really need to get it together. We weave back through the restaurant, his hand resting possessively but lightly on my lower back. His touch seems to set my nerves alight with electricity. I can’t deny it any longer–I want him. It’s an unusual feeling for me. I haven’t wanted someone this badly in a long time. Not since him.

When we reach the front doors, he opens it for me, guiding me through with gentle pressure where his hand rests. I’m acutely aware that his fingers are barely above the slight curve of my ass. When we get to the car and I finally get a reprieve from his touch, I let out a long sigh. I can’t tell if I’m disappointed or relieved at the loss of contact. I’m not good at this type of thing. I’m smart and independent and damn good at my job. But I’m not great at relationships.

Not that this is a relationship. It’s just a single date.

“Sunshine, you okay?” Noah asks from the driver’s seat, pulling me out from within my own intrusive thoughts.

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