Page 4 of Hockey Halloween
“I do. I’m originally from a smaller place in Minnesota called St. Cloud, but I moved here five years ago.”
He laughs, sounding surprised. “You’re kidding. I live in Minneapolis, but I’m originally from Alexandria.”
“No way!”
“Right? What a small world.”
“So we’ve got our love for history,The Mummy, midwestern roots, and a random club in Manhattan in common,” I tease. “Clearly, this was meant to be.”
“Fate works in mysterious ways.”
Smiling, I lean in a little, “So, what about you? Do you solve mysteries for a living, too?”
He hesitates, appearing a little sheepish before replying. “Sort of. But nothing as cool as bringing history back to life.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Now you’ve got me curious. Don’t tell me you’re a spy or in witness protection. That would be too on-the-nose for a guy I randomly meet at a Halloween party.”
“I promise I’m not those things. I’m just a man in a costume, standing in front of a beautiful woman, hoping to impress her.”
“Well, mission accomplished.” The words slip out before I can stop, but I don’t regret them. Not when Nolan’s grin widens, and a hint of pink colors his cheeks.
“Careful.” His voice is husky with amusement and something more intoxicating. “Keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking tonight really is more than just a fluke.”
“Maybe it is,” I murmur. “Maybe we both needed something, or someone, unexpected.”
“Since we’re being honest, I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight,” he admits. “My friends dragged me out. Said I needed to loosen up and forget work for once.”
“Funny. I’m here because my friends said I needed to take more risks.” I meet his gaze, the weight of it sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Seems like we both got what we needed.”
“Maybe.” He brushes his fingers against mine, a fleeting touch. “Or maybe the night’s only getting started.”
As I hold his gaze, a flutter of anticipation blooming in my chest, I can’t help but hope he’s right.
“Are you always this smooth or am I just lucky tonight?”
“I’ll let you decide.”
Our gazes stay locked, neither of us willing to blink and risk breaking the spell. His blue eyes, warm and searching, seem to drink in every detail, as though he’s trying to commit the moment to memory. Maybe he feels it too—that rare, electric spark.
Before I can come up with a clever response, a voice cuts through the music and laughter around us. “There you are, Willa.”
Blinking, I turn toward the sound. A man in a similar costumeto Nolan stands a few feet away. He’s attractive in a polished, curated kind of way. He has a clean-shaven sharp jawline, perfectly white teeth and artfully tousled hair. Everything Ishouldfind attractive.
But when I look at who I assume is Greg, my actual blind date, I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Oh,” I blurt, instantly feeling awkward tension between us. “You made it.”
He steps closer, not bothering to greet Nolan. His eyes move between us, narrowing at the space separating our bodies. He notices. Of course he does. There’s a flicker of something—annoyance, maybe even suspicion—before he smooths it over with a forced smile.
“Traffic was hell, and then finding a parking spot was another nightmare. I can’t believe it took me over an hour to get here from my place. What a disaster,” he complains.
I nod politely, pretending to care, even if I’m ready to bolt. My fingers tighten around my drink, channeling my darkening mood.
“I’m here now, so we can have our date as planned,” Greg continues. “Don’t you agree?”
Nolan stands up straighter beside me. There’s no visible shift in his expression. Still, the air changes.
“I—” The words get stuck in my throat as I glance between the two men. My actual date and the one I wish had been.What a disaster, indeed.
