Page 10 of The Hockey Player and the Tutor
I pick up two of the four bags while he collects the others, and we head toward the stairwell.
“Each of us has teamed up or paired up to decorate a room for the haunted Halloween mansion to raise money for charity. The house belongs to one of the girl’s parents. Tickets will be sold and guests will get to vote on their favorite room.”
We make our way through the corridor past the kitchen and I carefully dodge the incredulous looks from some of the girls. Casey catches my eye and fans herself when she notices Preston.
He’s kind of hard to miss. I’m sure since I don’t ever bring guys into the house—like never—some of the girls are going to grill me later tonight to find out the scoop. There’s nothing to say, though. I’ve known him for all of a few hours—has it only been that long?—and he just happened along at the right time.
Preston not only has an athletic body and is very easy on the eyes, he’s also very sweet. The combination has given me heart palpitations and while he’s been in the house, sweat has broken out in my palms and between my breasts.
Gross, boob sweat.Not attractive.
I had someone look at my car earlier today and they replaced something they said was an easy fix, so when I returned home, I was able to find a parking spot in the small lot behind the house. I direct Preston to the backdoor and I click the fob to open the trunk. Preston eyes my Audi A3 convertible with an appreciative gaze.
“Nice car.”
I shrug, always feeling weird about driving such a luxury car at school. Growing up in a wealthy area in Connecticut, everyone I knew drove expensive cars so it was no big deal. But here at BNU, far away from the big cities and pretentious lifestyles, I didn’t want to stand out with a fancy car. I just wanted to fit in which is why we agreed on this car that we bought in Seattle and I drove out here.
“It’s my mother’s idea. Safe, practical, yet also kind of sporty.”
As Preston slams the trunk and moves to the passenger door, his eyes dart to mine over the roof of the car, smothering a smile. “This is a good vehicle. But they sure cost an arm and a leg when they break down.”
He opens the door and I stare back at him, still uncertain of why he’s doing this for me.
I give him one last chance to back out. “Preston, seriously. I can just drop you off at your house if you want. I’m sure you have other things to do.”
His smile is like warm honey spilling over my shoulders, over my chest, and down in my tummy where it swims in languid peace.
“It’s all good. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have time. Plus, you’re doing me a solid by tutoring me. Your time is far more valuable to me, so I owe you.”
Gah, why does he have to be so sweet?
I start the engine and back out of the parking lot, glancing over at him once I’m on the road to admire his profile. His nose is a little crooked, but the perfect shape and length for his face. His blond hair feathers out above his ears and does a little side-swoop over his forehead where it meets the top of his eyebrows.
He’s perfectly handsome in both a rugged and sexy way.
I wave off his kind words when I stop at the four-way. “You don’t owe me anything. I tutor because I like to help others. Plus, it’s an added asset for my degree in teaching, so it’s what I do. What are you majoring in?”
“Finance.” He turns his head to the side and smiles at me. “Numbers are my jam. Give me a good problem to solve and I’m all over it. I’ve always been better with numbers. Reading, not so much.”
My belly flip-flops. His smile is like sunshine breaking through the clouds. It makes me feel giddy.
“I’m just the opposite. Maybe you can help me out with my stats course. Three weeks into the semester and I’m already pulling my hair out,” I groan.
“Don’t do that…it’s such pretty hair.”
I nearly swerve and slam on the brakes. Did he just compliment my hair and call me pretty?
Heat rises up my neck and over my cheeks as I try to refocus my attention on the road, hoping to change the direction of our conversation. “You’re a hockey player, huh?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. I am. Where I come from, if you have the size and strength, you’re either into hockey or football.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him slide his palm over his thigh. His massive thigh that seems to ripple under the touch. My own palms get sweatier and tremble as I tighten my hold on the steering wheel. It makes me wonder what it would feel like to touch him like that.
What would he do if I just reached over and…
I clear my throat and my thoughts. “Where are you from?”
“Philadelphia. And you?”
