Page 26 of O Goalie Night
“If you were to pick any dessert, what wou–”
“Lemon meringue pie.” I answer without pause. “It’s been my favourite since I was little. My mom makes it from scratch every year on my birthday.” I may have mastered her chocolate cake recipe according to Ben, but I’m nowhere near close to replicating her pie crust. “I’ve always preferred tart desserts. Lemon meringue, strawberry-rhubarb, apple.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Good to know.”
“What about you?”
He rolls his lips together and I’m mesmerised by the movement. “That was the first dessert I’ve eaten in six years.”
My jaw drops. “That’s a tragedy. I would die.”
His lips twitch as he scans my face. “Nowthatwould be a tragedy.”
“Come on. There has to be something you crave.”
“Like I said: I follow the team dietician’s recommendations pretty closely, with the exception of bacon. My momused to make sticky date pudding a lot, though. It was one of my favourites.”
“Oh, my grandmother makes that every Christmas. It’s amazing.” Just thinking about it is making my mouth water. I look forward to it every year. “Speaking of Christmas, when do you usually decorate?”
“I don’t.”
The slippery plate I’m holding almost drops from my hands, but I manage to hold on to it. “I beg your pardon?”
He looks almost sheepish, which, considering he’s a rather large man wearing a cardboard party hat, is saying something.
“I don’t really celebrate Christmas. I enjoy the days off we get, but that’s it.”
He goes back to his chore, clearly done with the conversation. I keep my eyes on him as I slip my hands back into the soapy water wondering what it would take to get him to open up to me more. I’m clearly not paying attention to what I’m doing because my finger scrapes against something sharp and I jump.
“Ouch!” I pull my hands out of the water, my finger stinging. Before I’m able to inspect the damage, Foster is by my side taking my hands in his.
“Where does it hurt?” His hoarse voice combined with the nearness of him makes me forget all about my hand.
He’s close enough that his warm breath caresses my skin causing a shiver to run through me.
When his green eyes search mine I realise I never answered his question.
“I’m fine,” I croak. “My finger must have grazed the knife I cut the cake with.”
“Are you sure?” He’s still holding my soapy hands in his.
“Positive. It’s not even bleeding. It just surprised me.”
Foster nods but doesn’t move away. He looks positively stricken at the thought of me being hurt. Our faces are mere inches apart. All I’d have to do to close the distance is?—
“Fozzie! We need you!”
We both react to Ben’s voice like a jump scare. Stepping back from each other like we were caught doing something wrong.
“Go ahead,” I tell him. “I’m almost done.
He dries his hands off on the dish towel and starts to leave.
“Beth?”
“Yes?”
He hovers in the entrance to the kitchen, watching me.
