Page 80 of Hell Bent
She laughed again, and I was smiling, too. “Charred broccolini,” she confirmed. “Coffee roasted sweet potatoes, which are amazing. Rubbed shrimp. Brussels sprout hummus with pita. Beef and lamb kebab with eggplant relish. Persian chicken meatballs. Radicchio salad. He complained that all the food was weird and he didn’t recognize anything, but he ate about three platefuls.Includingthe hummus and the sweet potatoes and a little bit of the broccolini, but he drew the line at radicchio, which is why that’s the only thing left over. He says vegetables aren’t too bad if they have sauce or are, ‘like, not gross.’ Progress, though he was a little disgusted at my veto on pizza. I told him I was keeping myself beautiful for you. I hate to tell you, but he snorted.”
I was laughing for real now. “I appreciate you keeping yourself beautiful, but I’m fairly sure you burn as many calories in a day as I do.”
“I could also totally have made chili or something,” she said. “You don’t have to provide. See, here’s the deal:Ican provide.”
“I know you can. But I appreciate you letting me do it tonight.” She exhaled, and I said, “What?”
“How am I supposed to argue with that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, “but I suspect you’ll find a way. You’re in my room, huh.”
A long moment, and she said, “I’ll move into my room to sleep, but I was in the living room and?—”
I said, “Do you want to know what I’d like you to do?”
“No,” she said. “Yes. Maybe.”
“Well, that’s definite. I’d like to know that you’re sleeping in my bed. Comfortable, not in that single bed. Warm.” I didn’t say,Ready for me to come home to you,but I thought it.
“Your office isn’t exactly freezing,” she pointed out.
“Hey, it’s snowing here, I’m in a king-size bed in a hotel room all by myself, and I traveled with close to two hundredpeople today, maybe six of whom were women. I’m playing this football game tomorrow, too. Are you really going to begrudge me a little pleasure?”
“Far be it from me,” she said, “to interfere with your pleasure.”
“Good. So what are you wearing? I can only see your face.”
“Sweatpants. You’re not here, and I got cold today. I’m not dressing up for Ben. And seriously? I thought you were trying to go to sleep. What, you want to have phone sex now? I’ve never done it, and I think I can say with certainty that I’m no good at it. I’d just get all embarrassed and tongue-tied, and then youreallycouldn’t sleep, because you’d be totally frustrated.”
“See,” I said, “here’s the deal with phone sex. You don’t have to say anything. You just show me your face like you’re doing, and I do the rest. This is what we call the pregame show.”
She said, “Uh …” But her eyes had gone a little dreamy, I thought.
“Lock the door,” I said. “Come lie down again. And let me tell you how I would’ve taken off that blue dress you wore on Christmas. I would’ve had you keep on the shoes, though. And I’m sorry, but in my version, I’m afraid you’re wearing a thong. And on your hands and knees. Possibly doing a little … crawling.”
“Sebastian.” It was a breath, and those eyes were definitely unfocused now. “I haven’t even locked thedoor.”
So that had been fun. It had helped me sleep, too.
Now, I checked my phone again. Good. A text.
I had the hardest time getting to sleep last night. You got me all charged up. And I could barely look at Ben. Good luck today. I’m so proud of you.
Also not bad.
Three hundred pounds landed beside me, and Owen Johnson said, “Getting the loving support from home? Or is Alix out here? And Ben?”
“You’re impressive at this team-building thing,” I said. “Remembering his name.”
“Hey,” he said, “family’s important. So are they here?”
“No. She had to work. Six days a week, ten hours a day. Not much time off in there.”
“I feel you,” Owen said. “Dyma can’t come to most of my games during the regular season. College, and all the way out in Colorado. Can get kinda lonely. For her too, though she spends the weekends with my folks, so that’s better.”
A loping figure heading down the aisle, slipping into the seat ahead of us, and turning around. One guess. Kristiansen said, “Owen giving you a pep talk? Kicking in this wind’s going to be tougher, yeah, and playing in the cold, but you’ve got one hell of a leg.”
I said, “I’m from Ottawa. It’s going to be 33 degrees at kickoff, and I’ve got a big old warm jacket to wear while you guys are out there doing the hard work. Know what it is in Ottawa today? Eleven degrees. I’m all good kicking in the cold. Now, if I were sprinting down the field, slipping on the icy snow and trying to catch a ball in my freezing hands …”
