Page 9 of The Hockey Player and the Tutor
“Yes, it’s a themed haunted house. Lola and I just went to town to buy some decorations for the room we’re hosting.” I hoist the heavy bags in my arms and one of them slips past my wrist, some of the décor falling out.
Preston rushes in and picks up the fallen items, carefully replacing them in the bag. When he does, his fingers graze my knuckles and an involuntary shiver weaves its way up my spine.
“Can I help with anything?”
Lola stops in her tracks and a huge, cat-that-ate-the-canary smile stretches across her face.
“Yes, we’d love your help, Preston,” she purrs sweetly. The brat. “We still have several heavy bags up in our room that sure could use a strong pair of arms to bring down. Brin, why don’t you show Preston the way? I’ll head over to the mansion now, and you can drive them over with Preston in your car.”
I cough. “Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure he has other things to do.”
Lola presses on, turning on the charm as she goads him into an answer. “You’re not busy right now, are you, Preston?”
I hide my eyes with my hand, shaking my head in horror.
“Uh… sure.” He glances down at his fitness watch and I want to sink into the sidewalk.
“It’s fine. You do not have to help us. She’s just kidding.”
He lifts a shoulder. A very broad and defined shoulder. “It’s not a problem. I’ve got time. Lead the way.”
Lola slaps him briskly on the arm. “Thanks, dude. That’s mighty chivalrous of you. I’ll see you both over there in a bit.”
She winks at me, taking the bags I’m holding from my hands and moving forward so she’s behind Preston’s back. She shoots me a salacious wink and then mouthsyou’re welcomefor only me to see. And the cherry on the cake is she makes a very lewd gesture with her hands, sliding her index finger into her other fist.
Oh, my God. I will strangle that girl in her sleep!
Preston swivels his head to look behind him just as she waves from the driver’s side of her car.
“Toodles, kids,” she calls to us. “Feel free to take your time.”
And then she slides into her car and drives off while I’m left looking like a complete idiot in front of the guy who I preferred would see me as somewhat intelligent and not so lame.
I cross my arms under my breasts and shift from one foot to the other nervously. His gaze tracks down to my chest and he undoubtedly notices my erect nipples. I drop my hands back down to my sides.
“Listen, Lola’s just being Lola. You are not obligated in any way to do this just because she pressured you into it. I’m fine, really. I’m sure you have much better things to do with your evening.”
Preston reaches forward and brushes his fingertips across the skin of my forearm in a reassuring gesture.
“I don’t. And even if I did, I’d rather be here to help you out. So let’s go in and grab the rest of the stuff and get it over there before Lola thinks we left her high and dry.”
Or she thinks we’re getting busy in my bedroom.
He stands there, waiting expectantly as I consider whether to accept his offer or decline it appreciatively. His tone sounds sincere and he doesn’t sound annoyed or put out. And maybe it’s wishful thinking, but his smile is warm, and his brilliant blue eyes sparkle with a genuine interest.
“Okay then. Let’s do it.”
Preston follows me up the path and through the front door. It’s pretty quiet downstairs and I’m exceedingly grateful because there would be an inquest of a thousand questions to answer otherwise. I head up the stairs to the third floor and into my room. When I open the door, I turn to the side to allow him access and, as he walks in, his arm brushes against the tips of my breasts and the zing that shoots down to my toes is electrifying. And alarming. I suck in a breath and lean backwards against the doorframe to keep my distance, hoping he doesn’t realize how much his proximity affects me.
Preston scans the room and I follow his gaze to see it from his perspective. It’s a pretty typical room. Two single beds in a loft-style format to maximize space—my bed cover is a light pink with green flowers and Maddie’s is a neutral yellow. We’ve added a small chaise lounge, that my mother insisted we purchase, covered in a soft pink crushed velvet material. It serves more as a hamper for Maddie’s clothes than it does for sitting, but right now I have all the bags lined up on it.
Preston points to the chair. “Is that all the decorations you need me to carry down?”
“Yep. That should be everything.”
I walk over to where he stands and breathe in his delicious scent. He smells of fresh clean soap mixed with a warmth of musk permeating through his cotton T-shirt. I feel so incredibly petite standing next to him. He must be over six feet. And while he’s in great shape, he’s not bulky or overly muscular like some guys I’ve seen in the gym.
He opens one of the bags and peers inside before turning to look at me. “What exactly are you doing with all of this stuff?”
