Page 42 of Rookie Move
“What?” she whispered back.
“Any idea why your father gave me a punch in the face and then an apple turnover?”
“Nope.”
“Was this supposed to be for you?” he asked. “You always liked filled things.”
“What?” She finally turned her heart-shaped face toward his. It was hard to be angry when those clear eyes were looking at him.
“Filled things,” he repeated. “Turnovers. Samosas. Dumplings.”
She swallowed. “You’re killing me right now.”
He grinned, nudging the pastry. “Halfsies?”
Slowly, Georgia nodded.
Leo folded the waxed paper carefully around the pastry then tugged it in half. He picked up one of the pieces himself, then placed the other on the white bakery bag and slid it onto Georgia’s tray table.
They ate in absolute silence. Chewing was uncomfortable for Leo, as it made his jaw ache. But the pastry made it worthwhile. Reinwald’s was a bakery about a mile from their high school. It opened at six thirty in the morning, so a guy could get a donut even before an early practice. After Georgia had been attacked, he’d gone there every day after school on his way to Georgia’s. He’d choose whatever cupcake or cookie had the best chance of making her smile.
Those were grim days, before she was ready to go back to school. Before the cuts on her face had healed. She wouldn’t talk about it, either. A couple of times he’d tried to get her to open up about her attack, but she’d only change the subject.
So he brought her a cupcake every day for two weeks until she complained that she was going to get fat. That was such an unGeorgialike thing to worry about that it felt like a slap in the face.
But Leo didn’t give up on her. Not ever. Instead of treats, he’d switched to bringing her funny videos on his phone. That hadn’t worked so well, either. But he’d tried.
He would have waited forever to see her smile at him again, but she didn’t give him the chance.
Leo looked down to find that he’d balled up the empty white bag and was squeezing it so hard that his knuckles were white. Funny thing—he hadn’t realized that after all this time he was still angry. What was the point of that? It was a long time ago. And he knew Georgia had had her reasons. He’d known it even then, but he’d still been mad.
“Does it hurt?” Georgia asked suddenly.
Hell yes, he nearly answered. But then he realized she was referring to his face, not his heart. “It’s fine. Looks worse than it is.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He turned to look at her, forcing her to do the same. Georgia’s sweet eyes were so tentative. He hated that. They never used to be uncomfortable with each other. Not Georgiaand Leo. That’s not how it was supposed to be. “I’m sorry, too,” he said finally. “I’ll bet you wish your father would hurry up and trade my ass.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. “I want you to get your shot, Leo. You deserve it.”
“Guess I shouldn’t kiss the boss’s daughter, then.”
She gave him a small, secret smile. “I guess you’d better not.”
There it was. The rejection.Ouch. Kissing her like that had been a loopy thing to do, though. Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way—he was lucky Georgia hadn’t hit him herself. Just like his gaffe at the press conference, it was a dumb-ass, hotheaded thing to do. “Lesson learned,” he said, keeping his tone ten times lighter than he really felt.
Georgia turned to look out the window again. As she did, he could swear she looked a little disappointed. But that was probably only wishful thinking.
ELEVEN
Asix-day road trip with Leo aboard? Pure torture.
Even worse—they’d been assigned adjacent rooms at the first hotel in Denver. After a noon skate, the team went back to the hotel to rest. Georgia spotted Leo from the end of the hallway, letting himself into what turned out to be room 614. But the time she passed his door, it was already closed.
But she was hyper aware of him during her short stay in room 615. Georgia used the hour of downtime to return some e-mail. Sitting against the headboard, her computer in her lap, she couldn’t stop listening to the stillness of the room beside hers, wondering if he was stretched out on the bed...
Gah. An overactive imagination was not what she needed right now.
