Page 22 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
Last night, I was pleased when she didn’t rush off to bed right after dinner like she did the first night. She curled up on the couch and read her book while I looked over a contract for an energy drink company my agent had sent me. We made small talk, and when I discussed the contract a little with her, she gave me her opinion as a friend and not as a colleague.
Today I want to do something nice for Aspen, tomorrow being her birthday and all, even if I haven’t known her long. She’s alone on her birthday—aside from me, of course—and still mending a broken heart. She deserves to have someone acknowledge it. I guess that someone is going to be me.
I spend fifteen minutes stretching my shoulder with the exercises my physical therapist wanted me to continue with this summer. Thankfully, it feels as good as new.
A few minutes later, Aspen appears, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and an oversize sweatshirt that’s falling off one shoulder. I can’t help but watch her descend the stairs.
“I hope this isn’t too casual. I didn’t pack anything fancy.”
“Believe me, you’ll fit right in. We’re not going anywhere fancy.”
She smiles and slips her feet into sandals, and I follow her outside, locking the door behind us.
As we climb into my car, she’s quiet. Part of me wonders if I said too much yesterday, if I shouldn’t have opened up about my tattoo. But Aspen didn’t seem to judge me for it, and it’s not like any part of my past relationship is some big secret. I have nothing to hide.
I guess I just don’t want my past to bite me in the ass, or make Aspen pull back from this easy friendship we’ve been building. I have a feeling this could be a very good summer, maybe even healing, and I don’t want anything stealing that from either of us.
Then again, I could be totally wrong. What I do know is that this is probably the longest amount of time I’ve spent with a woman without fucking the whole thing up, and I’m not ready for it to end.
“You ready to see the sights?” I ask as I navigate the car toward town.
Aspen rubs her hands together. “Heck yeah. Thanks for suggesting this and taking me with you.”
I chuckle at her excitement. “Don’t get too excited. You haven’t seen the town yet.”
She fiddles with the radio until she finds a station that comes in without any static. “What can I expect?”
“Let’s see. If memory serves, two stoplights. One main street with a few specialty shops, and a couple of good restaurants.”
“That works. A real small-town feel. I’m here for it,” she says, watching the scenery as we pass. There are no other houses, but plenty of large evergreens and a whole lot of blue sky.
“The first time we visited Saint up here, he took all the guys to this pizza place. We couldn’t decide if it was the best pizza we’d ever had, or if we were just really hungry. But they closed down, so maybe it was the former?”
Aspen chuckles. “Maybe.”
“But I’m planning to take you to the brewery, assuming it’s still there. I’m not sure if you’re into craft brews, but their menu was really extensive too.”
“I’m always up for trying new things, so that works for me.”
• • •
Over lunch, Aspen and I stuff ourselves with cheeseburgers and the local grapefruit IPA while seated on a great deck overlooking the water. The IPA is just like I remember it, fruity but not sweet. It’s delicious.
“Do you have a lot of commitments in the off-season?” she asks, helping herself to one of my fries.
I push my plate closer to her, and she takes another. “Some, not a lot.” I fill her in on the kids’ hockey camp I’ll be helping at in a few weeks, and my planned trip to visit my sister and Jaxon, where hopefully I’ll get to skate with him.
Aspen smiles. “Sounds like hockey’s your whole life.”
“Yeah. For now, anyway.” I try not to let this thought depress me. I’ve always loved the sport, but lately I’ve been feeling like something’s missing. Not wanting to analyze that right now, I turn the conversation back to Aspen. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“My story?” She meets my eyes as she takes another sip of her beverage.
“Yeah. Ivy League education. Yoga. Reading. Douchey ex.” I wink at her, and she laughs. “What else should I know?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I’m still working on my story.”
“That’s fair.” It’s an idea that resonates with me. Just because you’ve been known for one thing doesn’t mean you don’t want something different. Eyeing the plate of fries, I ask, “You want any more of these?”
With a shake of her head, she leans back in her chair. “I’m stuffed.”
