Page 33 of Let It Be Me
“That’s Sasha,” Riley tells me as she comes to sniff my fingers.
She nudges her snout under my fingers and demands pets. Her white coat is freshly brushed and she looks up at me with the bluest of blue eyes. “Can I pick her up?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I put my hands around her body and rise with her in my arms. She’s a lot lighter than I thought and her purr-box is immediate when she’s in my arms. Kamryn and Emily’s cats are the only ones I’ve been around and I adore them but I’ve never been able to commit to adopting a cat of my own. Istick my nose in her neck and walk forward with Riley trailing behind. His living room opens to a view of downtown slowly coming to life. A big dark blue sectional takes up most of the space but it’s not overwhelming. He has throw blankets and pillows in a variety of neutrals that add warmth to the big room with a huge flat screen TV taking up the opposite wall. It’s not what I expected from him but surprisingly this space fits who he is. Or what I know of him at least
Riley sets my suitcase and weekender bag by the TV. The sound of my luggage brings my attention to Riley. His gaze is unfocused yet focused on me at the same time.
“What?” I ask when his gaze starts to make me squirm. I place a kiss on Sasha’s head and set her on the couch.
He shakes his head and heads into the kitchen. Which is even more impressive considering he’s in a condo. A huge black marble island separates the space, a stainless steel french door refrigerator with a matching stove and microwave complete the set and beckon to be used. The warm wood cabinets give the space a masculine and homey feeling. Off to the right I see a dining table big enough to fit eight sat on top of a dark blue and maroon area rug.
“Riley, your place is stunning.”
“Thank you. I don’t have the biggest eye for design. So with the help of my interior designer and my Momma, we got this place up and running in under a year.” He tells me as he slides a glass of ice water to me.
“Thanks.” I take a sip of water to cool myself down. Why is it so awkward with him?Work mode, I tell myself because it’s my safe zone. “So I started your website.”
His eyebrows fly to his hairline. “Already? I thought these took months to do.”
“You were easy.” I say as I move to my bag and pull outmy laptop. I walk back over to the island and stand at the end.
“My new slogan,” Riley jokes and stands to the side me at the island. I take him through what I did and how I did it. Some may think it’s not necessary for a hockey player to have a website. But when his career is done, Riley and his fans will have some place to look at that highlights his career. It’s also a great reference point for if he ever decides to do camps.
“Do you like it?” I ask and turn my head to look up at him now completely terrified that he’s going to reject the whole thing.
“It’s really good. At first I was skeptical. Because why does a hockey player need a website? But I like it.”
I turn my head back to my laptop and bite my lip to hide my smile. I don’t admit that I need praise for my work. But growing up as an only child, it paved my need for some type of acknowledgment.
“Good.” I tell him and shut my laptop. “What do you normally do before games? I mean, I know this isn’t an official season game, so I’m not sure how your routine works.”
“Am I the first hockey player you’re working with?” He asks as he backs up, realizing we’re a bit closer than we should be.
“Yeah,” I say, a little shy and look over at Riley.
His soft smile brings heat to my cheeks. “How about I make us dinner and I’ll give you a crash course on the sport.”
“Okay.”
Riley pushes off from the island and moves towards the fridge. “You’re not allergic to anything?”
“Nope,” I pop thepand see him turn back to the fridge, but not before seeing his cheeks lift with a smile. While hebusies himself with fixing our dinner, I slide off the barstool and move to my suitcase for a change of clothes. When suddenly it dawns on me so I turn back to face the man who canceled my room. “Hey, Riley? Where am I sleeping?”
The blond behemoth purposefully refuses to turn around in a timely manner. But I’m used to waiting. So that’s what I do. With my hip popped and my arms crossed, I wait for Riley to turn around. When I see he can no longer fake being busy, I brace myself for whatever excuse he’s planning to sell me as he turns to face me.
“You see,” he starts and I can actually see the thoughts forming in his head. “I have two rooms. But the second is unfurnished and has the cats litter boxes and other things for them in there.”
“Are you saying you have a dedicated full room for your cats?” I squint my eyes at him and before I can rationalize anything normal, I beeline to the other room. Ignoring Riley’s protests behind me, I push the door open and come to a screeching stop at the threshold. Riley slams into me from behind and steadies me with a hand on my waist.
“I’d say I could explain myself, but this is explanation enough.” Riley fails to adequately explain.
It’s like Petsmart threw up in here. Two dog beds raised on platforms, cat towers on either side of the beds and in the middle, toys everywhere, and scratch posts spread out with some running up the walls.
“I don’t know if I should laugh or cry,” I breathe out.
“Laugh, please.” Riley tells me.
