Page 25 of Puck King
“Hi.” He slid into the booth and took off his wool hat with the ‘T’ for Thunder logo.
I slid his coffee across the table. “Travis made this for you.”
He smiled and took a sip of his coffee. “The best cup in town.”
Hollie would agree. We both looked at Travis and he nodded before focusing back on the customer in front of him.
“So…” I tapped the table with my fingertips.
Colton chuckled. “Yeah.” He looked at his lap. “What the hell are we going to talk about for six months?”
“There’s got to be something,” I mused. “What TV shows are you watching? Or have you read any good books lately?” I could tell what kind of a person I was dealing with by the pop culture they consumed. It was a tactic I used with my physio clients to get them to relax while I was doing active release therapy.
Colton shrugged. “I don’t really watch TV, unless it’s hockey. And I don’t remember the last time that I picked up a book.”
I pursed my lips and nodded. I should’ve known. Colton King was a run-of-the-mill jock with nothing but hockey on the brain, probably literally. “How many concussions have you had?” I asked.
He seemed surprised. “That’s a little rude. I just don’t have time to read.” He leaned against the bench seat and crossed his arms. His long-sleeved t-shirt wasn’t obnoxiously tight, but when his massive arms were intertwined, the fabric pulled tightly across his perfectly defined pecs.
“Shoot. I didn’t mean it like that.” I kind of had, but realized that the man might actually have feelings, and as shitty as our situation was, antagonizing him on the first day was going to make the next six months the longest half-year of my life. I leaned on my elbows and whispered, “Common ground. I can talk concussions, and based on your career, I’m guessing that you’ve had at least one good conk on the melon.”
He was only twenty-seven years old, but when he smiled, he looked older than his years and in a good way. “Three. But only one where I was totally out.”
“Yikes.” My eyes widened and my eyebrows shot up. “Tell me more.”
And that’s when Colton King and I had our very first interesting conversation – the kind where background noise disappears. While I listened to Colton explain the details of each of his hits, I was surprised by the level of detail he could recall. But the bigger surprise was that only one of the three incidents was from hockey. The first had been a car accident; the second, a hit from behind that had sent him headfirst into the boards in a Junior A game; and the third had come from a fall off a horse.
“You ride horses?” More common ground. My body relaxed a little more, and I found myself enjoying our conversation.
“I used to.” He tilted his head and looked embarrassed as he sipped his coffee. “You know the saying that you’re supposed to get back on the horse?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded.
“I didn’t.” He finished his coffee and pursed his lips. “I couldn’t bring myself to get back on. That was scarier than the car accident or the hockey hit.”
Seemingly without any instruction from my brain, my hand reached out and rested on his. “It’s normal to be afraid when something like that happens.”
He looked at my hand and I realized what I had done. He cleared his throat and we both jerked our arms off the table. I rested mine in my lap and glanced around the room. I shouldn’t have been embarrassed. It was the kind of touch that was going to make the relationship believable. The problem was, it hadn’t been an act.
“I’m not afraid of anything.” He snapped, but then softened. “Hold on. I guess I’m afraid of horses and one other thing.” He slipped into his jacket. “I think that we’ve satisfied our checklist for the day.”
I mirrored him and put on my coat, curious about his other fear. Just when I’d thought he was going to open up and be vulnerable, he’d retreated. “We have to walk out and get our first photo together,” I whispered.
The shadows of the paparazzi darkened the doorway.
“I’d rather slip out the back like last time,” he grumbled.
“You’re not the only one, but we have to do this. At least you’re used to this circus.” I wound my scarf around my neck and pulled my hat low over my brow.
“Come on.” He gestured for me to walk ahead. As we approached the door I could feel eyes upon us, and a shiver ran up my spine when I felt his hand on my lower back. It was a protective touch, I told myself, not an intimate one. He was raised a gentleman after all. “You never get used to them,” he whispered, and opened the door.
I stepped into the lightning storm, and Colton fell into step on the street side of me, his bulk separating me from the sea of photographers. They were busy shouting questions, but the commotion swirled around me and all I could focus on was getting away from the attention.
Once we’d rounded the corner and I saw that the sidewalk ahead of us was free, I felt the world tilt. I gasped and my vision blurred.
“Alison?” Colton’s voice sounded far away.
I stretched my arms out, trying to find something to hold me up before my knees buckled. Colton’s arm slipped behind my back, just as all of the strength left my body. I gasped and realized that I had been holding my breath. “Keep walking,” he whispered. “And breathe, for God’s sake.”
