Page 62 of Outlaw Heartstrings
A rueful look comes over her face. “Oh, that was peanuts compared to all the money the adults were stealing at thetime. The pastor’s wife and my dad, I mean.” She emits a pained chuckle.
I make a face of disgust, and Alba breaks out into giggles. Damn—at least she can laugh about it. If it were my dad I’d be so damn pissed.
For a while, we reminisce about our teenage years. Then Alba catches me up on major happenings I missed here in Fairy Bush. The Math teacher who got fired for getting drunk on the job and falling asleep in the cafeteria. The high school football star who flunked out of college and came right back home the same year. The librarian who quit to open a burlesque dance studio in the sketchy part of town. A lot has changed.
“So, tell me, how has your life been? You blew up so fast! Is hockey everything you’d dreamed of?” Alba asks after a while.
I huff out a laugh, trying to sum up the past nine years of my life in my head. “Yeah. I’d have to say it has been. It’s been a hell of a lot of work, but that also meant being able to buy my mom a house and helping to put my brothers through college, so I’d say it was worth it. Plus, getting to do what I fucking love everyday? It’s just a bonus to get paid for it. I’ve loved everything about playing hockey.”
“I’d bet being named one of the Top Fifty Prettiest Men on the Ice didn’t hurt, either.” She jabs me in the ribs with her elbow. “You were on the cover of a magazine, Mr. Tower!”
“That was…fun.”
“By ‘fun’, do you mean all the women who were probably throwing themselves at you?” Alba smirks but there’s hurt in her eyes.
Her pain is a reminder that, while I was out there, livinga reckless life, she was here in Fairy Bush, juggling the responsibilities that should have been mine.
“Can’t lie—being in the spotlight has never really bothered me. My mom is always saying I was born for this life.” I peek at Alba out of the corner of my eye. “But lately—ever since the injury—I can see that something was always missing from my life…”
I have it all. Money. Family. A job most guys would kill for. Good friends and teammates.But there’s this hole deep inside me. A hole that Jagger—and his gorgeous copper-haired aunt—seem to fill whenever I’m around them.
When my eyes fall to Alba’s lips, her tongue darts out, licking away the sugar clinging to the corner of her mouth.
Her voice sounds different—low and husky—when she speaks again. “I’m happy for you, Easton. Truly. It’s been fun to follow your career.”
Her eyes shift to mine, and I can’t fucking look away. She’s too fucking beautiful, and I want to kiss her so bad. I think she feels it, too.
She abruptly shakes her head and forces a small smile. Then she pushes the donut sack toward me with a groan. “I can’t eat anymore. I’m so freaking full. Thank you for the treat.”
This has to be like the eleventh time she’s thanked me since I showed up here.
“Sheesh, woman. Would you stop thanking me? It’s just a few donuts.”I frown at her.
“Still. It was very thoughtful of you,” she insists.
I wag my head. “You act like it’s the first time anyone’s ever done something nice for you.”
I expect her to laugh, but she doesn’t. Alarm bells sound in my head when I see a shadow come over her eyes. My brows pinch together in concern as I turn to face her fully.
“Wait a minute. Don’t tell me you’ve been out here dating jerks who don’t do nice things for you, Alba Anderson.” I reach out and gently adjust her crooked glasses.
She scoffs and mumbles, “I haven’t been dating anyone at all.”
“I…Whoa…No, Seriously? You…haven’t been…what?” I struggle to string a sentence together, absolutely floored by what she is saying.
How does a woman who looks like Alba—a woman who’s as smart and sweet as Alba—not go on any dates?
She shrugs.“It’s not something I have time for. With Jagger and work and studying, I haven’t had the timeorthe energy to waste on dating. Plus, life sort of came at me fast. I kind of went from being the coach’s untouchable daughter to being full-time guardian to a precocious little boy. I had to learn to prioritize.” She huffs out a breath. “And besides, these days, when guys look at me, it’s like they see a no-fun zone. I have ‘responsibility’ written all over me.”
Shit.
I feel fucking guilty right now. And then an even worse realization hops into my brain.
“Wait…Are you saying you haven’t been having…?”
“Sex?” she finishes for me, with a little snort-laugh. “No, Easton. I haven’t been having sex. I…um…” she flinches. “I never have.”
The paper bag slips from my lap, donuts rolling across the wooden porch.
