Page 11 of The Hockey Player and the Tutor
“I was born in New York, but now live in Connecticut.”
He’s quiet for a moment so I chance a look in his direction and find his gaze pinned on me.
“What?” I ask, wondering why he’s staring at me with skepticism.
My eyes return to the road, but I see the movement as his shoulders lift in a shrug.
“I don’t know. You’re not like the other people I’ve met from Connecticut. You don’t have that air about you.”
Turning into the long driveway to the estate of our soon-to-be haunted mansion, I can’t help but smile.
“I’ve heard that before. Considering my name means princess, I get called that a lot. It’s a pretty big stereotype, though, don’t you think?”
He leans over, elbow on the console between us, and his warm breath wisps over my neck. His woodsy, soapy fragrance permeates the air of the car and I inhale the intoxicating scent.
“Oh, you mean like the one you had about me when you learned I play hockey?”
I put the car in park. “What? I never…”
His brows shoot up and there’s an edge of a grin at the corner of his mouth. “Mm-hmm…sure you didn’t.”
My mouth gapes open and I blink. “I swear I didn’t.”
He laughs good-naturedly. “I’m just messing with ya. Most people think I’m either a dumb jock or a player just because I play the sport. It’s fine, though, because I can generally dispel those myths once they get to know me.”
I watch as he climbs out of the car and when he stands, all I can see from my vantage point are his long muscular legs.
I get where he’s coming from, though. I’ve always tried not to make assumptions about people, but sometimes it’s just human nature based on our own biases and past experience. I may have assumed he was a stuck-up snob based on his name because I’ve grown up around rich, entitled assholes with very elitist names.
How stupid am I to do that? It makes me feel like a complete judgmental bitch, especially since he could have made all the wrong assertions about me too.
I’ve been called a whore and a slut since I was fourteen just because of my physical appearance and how voluptuous my curves developed. It was unfair and hurtful, especially since I never did anything to attract that kind of attention. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I’ve been slow to losing my V-card. The rumors would’ve gone viral.
I open the driver side door and Preston’s suddenly at my side, offering me a hand to help me out.
His hand is big and warm. Mine practically vanishes in his palm when he closes his fist around it. I stand on wobbly legs and look up at him, trying to think of something to say. A flyaway strand of my hair gets stuck in my eyelashes and I blink, trying to get it out. He comes to my rescue and, with gentle fingers, he brushes it out of my eyes.
His eyes sparkle as he smiles down at me. “I hope you’re interested in getting to know me.”
My breath hitches at his suggestion. I part my lips, hoping for a kiss that doesn’t come.
Instead, Preston turns away and rounds the back of the car, pulling the bags out of the trunk one by one before slamming it closed.
I touch my lips and feel the tingle of my imaginary almost-kiss. I watch him turn toward the front of the house and I stare at the guy who has inexplicably left me turned on and utterly perplexed.
ChapterSix
Preston
I should’ve kissed her.
Goddammit, why didn’t I kiss her?
I’m kicking myself for hesitating and missing my chance to kiss this beautiful girl. This beautiful and smart princess and now the moment is lost because Lola comes bounding down the front walk, calling out our names.
“Yay, you made it!” she says, stopping in front of me before looking behind my shoulder toward Brinly. “Wait until you see how huge this place is. I’ve never seen anything so big in my life!”
Lola stretches her arm out and swings it around Brin’s shoulders and giggles. “And you know how I like big things.”
