Page 33 of The Rebel (Looking to Score 1)
She bites her lip. “It’s a little bit my fault. If I hadn’t been so flustered, I would have paid attention to what I was putting in my mouth.”
Neither of us brings up the topic that had her flustered—Eden and her friend had been gossiping about me. But it would be a dick move to press her right now. She’s obviously upset.
When we reach my car, she grabs her phone, which she forgot in our rush to get into the hospital. She checks the score right away and turns to me with a smile. “We’re up three to two. Four minutes left in the game.”
“Nice.” I nod.
When I start the car, it takes me a minute to find the sports station, but when I do, we sit in the parking lot, listening to the remaining three and a half minutes of the game. In the end, the Titans win it.
“Congrats,” I say, giving Eden a grin. “How does it feel to own a winning hockey team?”
She chuckles. “I feel pretty damn good right now.”
“As you should.” I pull out into traffic, which is heavy because the arena is only a few blocks away. “Is your car at the arena?”
“No, I rode with Gretchen.”
“I’m happy to take you home.”
Eden meets my eyes with a look of gratitude. “That would be great.”
She sends and receives a few congratulatory texts as I drive. The jealous part of me wonders if she still texts with Alex, but the smarter, more rational part of me reminds me that it’s none of my damn business who she texts with. Hell, maybe she’s still fucking him on the side. Even then, it wouldn’t be any of my concern. Eden is a gorgeous, successful woman. Of course she doesn’t lack for male suitors.
I drive back to her building, which isn’t far, and Eden instructs me about where to park.
“You can stop here. I’ll just hop out.”
I shake my head. “I’m walking you up.”
She doesn’t say anything further, just waits patiently for me to find parking nearby. Once I do, we head side by side into the building with its grand lobby and row of shiny silver elevators. She lives in a midrise building of luxury condos that exceed my budget by several million dollars. The location is prime, and the views are outstanding.
She unlocks the door and lets us in, setting her purse on the entryway table and flipping on lights as she moves farther inside.
The place is quiet and dark, except for the streetlights glittering from the windows a few stories below. It’s nothing at all like the last time I was here, when the room was filled with testosterone and loud hockey players. Now it’s just me and her—a scenario I like much better.
Am I intimidated by Eden’s job, or the fact she’s constantly surrounded by some of the world’s most eligible men? No. Not really, anyway.
Her place is cozy and modern with wide-planked wood floors and dark gray cabinetry. The huge dark-paned windows are framed by white linen curtains. Not a thing is out of place. There’s not so much as a coffee cup in the sink. It makes me wonder if she’s super-neat and tidy, or if maybe she has a cleaning crew on retainer.
I bring her a glass of water from the kitchen, and she swallows one of the antihistamines.
“I’m so relieved we won tonight,” she says, setting her phone on the charging tray on her kitchen counter. “It almost makes me forget about my blunder earlier.”
Her eyes stay on mine as I move closer to her. When I stop directly in front of her and tip her chin toward mine, her lips part.
“You look better. Your coloring has returned, and the swelling has gone down.”
“I feel fine now,” she says softly.
Her gaze lowers to my mouth, just briefly, but it’s impossible to miss the look of longing in her eyes. And I can’t exactly forget about what Eden and her friend had said about me . . . something about me being hot.
It’s sure as fuck getting hot in here now.
Because while I should leave, it’s the last thing in the world I want to do. What I want to do is kiss her. I want to see if we still have that same magic chemistry we had all those years ago.
The memory of her that night comes rushing back with such force and clarity, it almost knocks me over. The way she looked on my bed. How eager she seemed about everything—it ate at me. And it still does.
An onslaught of memories of what happened that night hits me hard. Maybe because it’s late and we’re alone together now . . . or maybe it’s because Eden’s bed can’t be more than two dozen steps away.
Her gaze lowers to my mouth again, and I take a step back, putting some distance between us.
