Page 55 of Someone to Have
He grins fully now, and sweet Jesus, that smile is pure sin.
“You have five minutes. I’m really hungry.”
“Wow. You’re so charming. I bet women love it when you show so much patience.”
“Most women aren’t interested in going out to dinner or clothes when I’m in their apartment. Unless they’re changing into skimpy lingerie.”
“I’m not putting on anything to impress you,” I say, sounding every bit the prudish wallflower. “But Iamin the mood for Mexican.”
“You already impress me.” His eyes crinkle as he leans forward. “But I bet you don’t even own anything lace.”
That sounds like a challenge. The words would be my cue for the blush, stutter, and run-away routine if this were any other man.But I like sparring with Eric. He makes me nervous, in the good lady parts way, but not panic.
“You’d be wrong,” I tell him slowly. “I happen to have a thing for matching bras and panties. So there you go, smart guy.”
His smile falters a fraction, and something darker flickers in his gaze. Before he can respond, I do run, but it’s more for self-preservation than anything else.
I strip out of my clothes and change into jeans and a cable-knit sweater. My pulse is racing as if I’m preparing for something bigger than just dinner.
Are they my best jeans? Yep. The ones that make my butt cheeks look like two ripe peaches.
That’s what Avah told me when she dragged me to a boutique in Boulder for a day of shopping just before Christmas. I bought the jeans to wear on a first date with Bryan.
And this isn’t a date, nor do I want it to be. I’m practically chanting the reminder in my head.
The sweater I choose is fluffy and just a smidge form-fitting. It’s cozy, but hugs my body in all the right places. Another item purchased in anticipation of a first date with my long-time crush.
I tell myself I’m going to dinner with Eric as part of a bigger goal and need to ignore my body’s reaction to the dark-haired demigod standing in my kitchen. Although it’s hard to keep that in mind when his jaw goes slack as I come around the corner of the hallway. I like the way he reacts to me way too much.
He clears his throat and looks away. “Tell me you don’t drink those fruity frozen drinks,” he demands like that’s all he’s thinking about right now.
“Top shelf margarita on the rocks, no salt.” I grab my purse and jacket. “And we’re definitely ordering guacamole. They make it fresh at the table.”
“I can get behind tableside guac,” he tells me with a smile. “Don’t find that much in Germany.”
“Are you homesick for your regular life?” I askas we head down the stairs and out the back door toward the covered parking behind the building. The cold night air bites a little, and I pull my jacket tighter around me.
He hits the key fob to unlock his truck, and I climb in, noticing how it smells like him—a mix of cedar, cold air, and something distinctly male. The scent wraps around me as I click my seatbelt into place. It’s an unfair advantage all the way around.
“I miss the routine and a bunch of my teammates.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “But I’ve always been aware Germany isn’t home. It’s part of the deal with hockey. I’ve played in six different cities since I left college. The fact that I lasted so long in Munich is nice, but I don’t depend on it.”
“Do you consider Minnesota home?” I’m trying to wrap my mind around his attitude. I understand what he’s saying, but I was a baby when my dad retired and moved the family to Skylark. It’s the only home I remember. And as much as my family can irritate the heck out of me, I love it here.
“I won’t go back to Minnesota. Who knows where I’ll end up once I hang up my skates.” He pauses before pulling out onto the street. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but his fingers tap the steering wheel like he needs to release his pent-up energy. “Where am I headed?”
“A question for the ages,” I murmur, thinking about how I was pondering that exact thing not so long ago on the sidewalk in front of Tony’s.
He snickers. “Let’s focus on tonight for now.”
“Downtown” I tell him. “Casa Rosa is a couple blocks from the library, around the corner from the hardware store.”
He nods. “Got it.” He’s quiet for a couple of seconds before he asks, “What about you?” He casts a sidelong glance at me. “Have you ever thought about starting over somewhere new? A town where you aren’t the little sister.”
“It’s not the worst thing to be known as,” I say with a laugh. Ilike being part of something bigger than me. It’s messy and complicated, but it’s mine.
His only answer is a shrug.
“I finished undergrad early and went right into a master’s program. When I graduated, I applied for a job at a school library in a pretty big district in San Diego.”
