Page 37 of Must Love Hockey
We’d finally fallen into bed around four a.m. But now his apartment is flooded in sunlight, and someone is pounding on the door.
“Jimmy! Can you open this jar of pickles?”
He groans. “Just a second Aunt Luna.”
“Can I come in?”
I yank the sheet up over my naked body in panic.
“Not on your life,” he says, sitting up.
Aunt Luna lets out a comical laugh.
“My ears,” James complains. He grabs sweatpants and a T-shirt from a dresser and pulls them on.
“Should I come back later?” She cackles through the door. “Was hoping to put a pickle in your uncle’s lunch.”
“Gimme a sec. I’ll come down to the kitchen.”
“Thank you.”
James comes back and sits on the edge of the bed. He puts a broad hand on my tummy. “Sorry about that.”
“What time is it?” I ask, half afraid of the answer.
“Almost ten?” He chuckles. “Don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll be right back. You drink coffee?”
“Ilivefor coffee.”
“Then don’t move.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. “I gotta open some pickles, take my teasing, but then I’ll come right back.”
He lets himself out and disappears, and then I sit up and take stock.
James’s snug apartment is even more appealing in the daylight. His bedroom area is set apart by a set of pocket doors that I hadn’t noticed last night, because they’re wide open. There are white curtains at the windows, and a set of framed family photos arranged on one wall.
It’s homey and more charming than I’d expect from a single man in his twenties.
I, however, look less charming in the harsh light of day. My clothes are scattered all around the bedroom, and I do a strange little dance of shame trying to quickly pluck my underwear off the wood floor and pull them on before he can return to witness it.
That accomplished, my next priority is the crazy sex hair I see in the bathroom mirror. I quickly rake it into a bun and secure it with a clip from my bag. I also have a toothbrush in there, from nights spent at Charles’s place.
I feel a stab of guilt just thinking of Charles. I push the thought away and grab the tube of Crest off the vanity.
I hear the apartment door open as I’m brushing my teeth. “Emily?”
“In here!” I say, turning on the water to spit.
I’m leaning over the sink when a warm hand lands on my bare back. “For a second there I thought you’d hightailed it.” He runs a finger up my spine as I turn off the faucet.
“I was just trying to make myself more presentable.” I turn around and drop my toothbrush back into its tube.
His eyes take in my travel toothbrush, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I always carry this,” I insist.
He grins. “Ah, well. You’re hard on my ego, Emily.”
“There’s no way that’s true,” I say.
