Page 100 of Beauty
The message shows it’s been delivered, but I get nothing in return. Not even those three dancing bubbles.
I need to confirm that he’s okay with this, but I really don’t want to call him. Texting is one thing, but calling is a step too far. And I’ve already taken too many of those. Every time I’m around the man, I do stupid things. Like strip. Or orgasm.
I can’t do either of those with him. Not anymore.
Knee bouncing, I wait. I’ll give him a few more minutes, at least.
Just as I’m typing up another text, my phone vibrates and lights up, an unsaved number flashing on the screen.
My heart thumps heavily. Of course he’d call rather than text. I consider not answering, but I’m determined to keep this professional, so I do what a boss who doesn’t know what it feels like to be touched by him would do and answer the phone.
“Hello, this is Sienna Langfield.”
The moment the words come out of my mouth, I cringe. God, I’m ridiculous.
Noah’s breathy laugh in response only highlights that. “And this is Noah Harrison. You know, the guy who?—”
“I know who you are,” I snap.
Deep voices chatter in the background, meaning he’s probably in the locker room, and the last thing I need is for my brothers to question why he’s calling me.
“I was just going to say the guy whose kid you’re bringing to the game tonight.” He sighs, his breath making the line between us crackle. “But only if you’re really okay with it.”
I brush at a speck of lint on my pants, needing something to do with my hands. “Yeah, of course. Is there, uh, anything I need to know?”
“No. Though I will apologize in advance for anything he says that may hurt your feelings.” Noah’s voice goes up an octave like he’s sincerely concerned that it’ll happen.
“I’ve got tough skin,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Besides, his comment about the plane was spot-on. Can’t be mad when a person points out the obvious.”
Noah chuckles. “Tell that to his first-grade teacher.” His tone is low, laced with both exasperation and humor. “She was less than impressed when he told her that halitosis is nothing to be ashamed of, but that she should treat it so the people around her don’t have to suffer alongside her.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. I slap my hand to my mouth to stifle it, then pull it back an inch and exhale into it, testing my breath. “I’ll be prepared.”
“Good. And seriously,” he says, “thanks for this. I know this isn’t in your job description, but Ollie and I don’t get to spend nearly as much time together as I’d like, and he never gets to travel with me like this, so this trip is special.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “I really don’t mind at all.Besides, without Hannah, I need a buddy who can explain what’s happening on the ice. I assume Ollie can handle that?”
He hums. “He knows just as much as Hannah, I promise. After the game, bring him down to the locker room. He can hang with me so you don’t get stuck waiting while we shower and do post-game interviews.”
“I’ll, uh, I’ll text you,” I stammer. It’s a dangerous offer, because now that we’ve opened this line of communication, it brings the two of us a little farther into one another’s orbit. But it’s preferable to walking into the locker room and potentially getting an eyeful of naked asses. Especially the asses belonging to my brothers.
I shudder. My brothers have no shame. Except Brooks, though Sara makes up for it tenfold. My other sisters-in-law aren’t much better either. Hence the knowledge I didn’t want to possess regarding who’s pierced and who has tattoos and Lennox’s passion for riding said piercings.
Noah sighs into the phone. “Thanks, Sienna.”
“Have a good game.”
Once I’ve ended the call, I sit in the silence, replaying the conversation. The sound of his voice soothes me in a way I want to despise. The easy laughter lights me up.
A smile tugs at my lips without my permission. Then my fingers join in, tracing the expanse of it. Despite all the emotions that man conjures, I can’t deny that the predominant one is always joy.
There isn’t another soul on this earth who’s ever left me feeling this way. And regardless of how much I fight it, I don’t think that will ever change.
As we head into the arena, Ollie walks by my side, head held high, smile on his face, decked out in Boston Bolts blue, with his dad’s name and number on his back.
He hasn’t stopped talking since I picked him up. He was ready and eagerly waiting when I showed up, clearly psyched for a break from Mav’s tears.
“That kid has some lungs on him,” he muttered as Hannah shut the door behind us.
