Page 65 of Good Vibes Only
“Hell yeah. It was great. It felt like everything I’d been working towards finally clicked into place. A literal dream come true. But the best part, of course,” he added deviously, “was proving all the haters and doubters wrong.”
I laughed. “Youarea little crazy, aren’t you?”
“Told you I was,” he said, simpering.
“Waaaait a minute,” I said, as a realization dawned on me. “Isthatwhy you like me, Brett? Because you thought I was a hater when we met?”
He flashed a smile. “I mean. Youwerea hater.”
“Yeaaahhh, but …” I trailed off. “Only because of the noise issue. I didn’t actually hate or doubtyou.”
He snickered, full of doubt. “Dude. Mac. You called me a trust fund kid.”
He’d busted me, and all I could do was smile. “Okay, fine! I guess Iwasa hater. But now you’ve gone and proven me wrong by being not-so-hateable. So good job, I guess?”
“So yeah. The way we met may have played a small part in me being attracted to you,” he said, smiling coyly as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “And you’re the most gorgeous girl I’d ever laid my eyes on, so that didn’t hurt, either.”
“Aw!” I said. I quickly added, “Andlet’s not forget, I’ve also got the world’s biggest tiny ass, too—or whatever you called it—right?”
“Right, right.” He chuckled. “Okay, so I didn’t tell you my long and boring history just to brag—”
I interrupted him. “Are you kidding? It wasn’t boring at all; I found it fascinating. I love to hear how people got their starts.”
“Good, I’m glad. Because all I was trying to say was I wasn’t born a star or whatever. I started from the bottom and had to grind my way to the top. And all those years I toiled in the minors, I lived in a lotof crappy apartments. Places you actuallycouldlegitimatelycall a hovel. Trust me, you’d have been scared to set foot in some of the places I’ve lived in.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” I said, amused. “I’ve seen how you bachelors can live.”
“My point is, you shouldn’t be ashamed of your apartment, McKayla. Your place is clean and adorable and hell, it fits you. And you’re going to look back in a few years and cherish your memories of this place, and this whole time of your life in general, when you were still trying to make it—before you knew what a success you were going to be in life.”
I went“aw”under my breath, still somehow surprised that a professional hockey player could manage to be so sentimental and wise … yet another part of me was shocked at myself for being surprised! Did Istillnot yet realize that Brett was truly special?
“You’re soeff’ing sweet,” I told him, and curled up closer next to him. “And honestly, I’m not normally ashamed of my place. I guess I just got a little embarrassed because you’re kind of a big deal, and I didn’t want you to look at me and see me like some poor little peasant girl.”
“Trust me, Mac, I don’t think that at all,” he said, his eyes on mine. He drew small circles on my shoulder with his finger. “And I hope you don’t think of me as some shallow, materialistic millionaire.”
“I definitely don’t.” I shook my head vehemently. I added coyly, “Not anymore, anyway.”
He laughed and said, “Good. Because you’re gonna have more money than me someday, you know.”
I chuffed. “Yeah, right!”
“I’m serious,” he said, his eyes on mine.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I learned real quick that you don’t take shit from anyone,” he said with a grin. “You’ve got the same drive I do. I can see it in your eyes. Plus, you’re smart and capable and you bust your ass.”
His compliment rang so genuine, it stole my breath.
“That’s very sweet of you,” I began, “but let’s be real. You’re a pro athlete. You makemillions,don’t you? I won’t make anything close to that. And hey, that’s fine; I don’t care about money, really, as long as I have enough to get by. I just want to be happy.”
“True, we make a lot,” he said, “but you’re forgetting that us athletes have short careers. I’ve only got six, seven,tenmore years, if I’m lucky, and that money has to last the rest of my life. By the time I retire, your career will just bestartingto get good. You’ll be this adult boutique-owning, girlboss badass,” he said, earning my hearty laughter. “Meanwhile, I’ll just be the humble owner of a microbrewery.”
“Oh, Brett. Don’t say that.” I put my palm on his cheek and stared into his eyes. “We both know thoseguys areneverhumble.”
My joke made us both crack up. Squeezed tightly in his arms, my heart began to churn. I loved being snuggled against his firm chest, every breath imbued with his warm and manly scent.
“You make me laugh,” he said softly. “I really like being with you, McKayla.”
