Page 58 of From Ice to Grace
I shrug, ignoring his strange compliment and taking another sip of my coffee.
“That’s if I want to marry a stranger to stay in the country.”
“Do you want to stay that bad?”
I consider his question. And the fact that I am, hits me harder than the actual situation I’m in. That I’m this desperate to ignore my past mistakes doesn’t say too much about me.
He starts to laugh. “You’re actually considering it! My, my…not such a Snowflake afterall.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, spinning around to ignore the smug smile on his face.
“Just thought the woman who loves giving me grief for my life choices would never turn around and marry a stranger for a green card. You see where the dots don’t line up, right?”
I turn back just to find him crossing his arms and leaning against the counter like he’s very comfortable in my discomfort.
“You don’t know anything about me, Murphy. You’re the last person to stand there and pretend to know why I make the choices I make.”
A few seconds of silence passes before he answers. “True. Just like you don’t know me or why I make the choices I make. Yet you’ve always felt free to speak your mind.”
I thought he’d be sporting the same baiting expression on his face I saw at Hannah’s wedding. What I didn’t expect was this… a flash of hurt and a disarming smile.
“I guess you’re right,” I concede.
“Never thought I’d hear those words from you.”
“Well, don’t get used to them,” I say teasingly, the need to keep the conversation between us light pulsing through me.
A soft laugh escapes him, almost reluctantly. He tilts his head, watching me longer than feels safe. The air between us shifts, tightens, as I take a slow sip of my coffee. A blush creeps up his neck, betraying him before he clears his throat and fumbles with his coffee.
Something’s happening.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, my voice low and careful.
“Nothing,” he says too quickly, suddenly standing in one fluid motion. “Thanks for the coffee. I have to go. Enjoy your car. Enjoy Sweden.” He frowns as the words tumble from his mouth, uneven.
“Wait.” I grab his wrist without thinking.
Because I need to know what just happened that turned the confident, charming, borderline crazy good at hockey defenseman into a weird lump of…not Declan.
My fingers curl around his wrist, his skin warm beneath my touch, and his gaze shifts to where our hands meet. He swallows, his gaze trained my hand.
When he finally looks up, my gaze locks with his. The look in his eyes causes my stomach to dip, my breath to catch, and I let go.
Before I know it, Declan Murphy is out the door leaving my mind scattered on the floor.
13
DECLAN
Walking down the stairs toward the pavement, my mind is reeling.
Did that just happen?
Did I just have coffee with Avah Johansson, actually enjoy myself, and then walk out like some rookie who’s never spoken to a beautiful woman before? Or worse…did I really just leave with the insane conclusion that we should get married?
I just wanted to return her car. That was the plan. Drop off her car, apologize, say thank you, maybe toss in a charming smile and a quip I know she secretly loves. Not this. Not the picture of me asking her to marry me like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
If you told me twenty-four hours ago this would happen, I’d laugh in your face. But now there’s no denying that we both need this. It feels obvious…too obvious.
