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“In an instant,” I replied. “Besides, who says I can’t do both?”
“Of course you can.” She gave me a slight exasperated shake of her head. “But one takes brains, and the other takes brawn.”
I hiked both of my eyebrows high. The girl had some serious bias against hockey then…or maybe jocks just got to her in general. “I mean, taking all that bulk into a board room and dishing out deals with fists is sure fire way to make a company boom.”
Willow threw back her head and laughed, the light sound lifting my mood.
Damn, but she was sexy as hell as her attention returned to the road. In a rush, I gathered more questions than I could fit into the remaining drive into Rippton. We were less than fifteen minutes out and I wanted to keep learning all about Willow Cheshire, and her emotional baggage. Maybe a little more about her bias against sports players, too. Or maybe just players.
“Are you busy today? After you drop me off?” I faced her, and got the exact response I had expected.
“Are you going to ask me out on a date, little Emperor? Or did you have something else in mind?” She batted her eyelashes—thick, curled and lush as fuck—though I recognized the warning signs.
“Ever been to a hockey game, Willow?” I sent her an amused glance, watching the pink stain as it rose in her cheeks.
Mission achieved.
Though now I was hard as hell and wanted nothing more than to make her pull over and kiss her senseless. I suspected it would take a little more than just a pretty face and some snappy repartee to break down her defences.
“Do I look like I go to hockey games?” she shot back, waving a hand over those damn black pants.
“Why yes, especially in that nice Rippton Hail sweatshirt.” I smirked.
She flushed a deeper red. “My roommate made it, remember?”
“Yes, but you’re the one wearing it.” I studied her for a moment longer, loving the stain in her cheeks. But I wanted more. Always more. “Have you dated a hockey player?” A single shake of her head, her white blonde hair the perfect concealment for her to hide behind. “Mmm, something. Not football. You don’t strike me as that type…Basketball. Am I right?” I pressed my back to the passenger door, turning to face her.
Willow shook her head, her hair trembling, and for a long moment, I thought I’d made her cry.
I straightened in alarm. Tears hadn’t been my objective at all.
When she flicked her hair back from her face, tears did run down her face, but they were paired with laughter. “Oh, my God. You are so damn full of yourself.”
“Am I right?” I insisted, unsure why I had decided to push the envelope with her quite so much.
We pulled through the small college based town. Willow drove in silence until we pulled into campus. “Yes. You’re right.” she said, her voice muffled.
“Thought so.” I couldn’t help it. Those two words came out smug and smarmy.
Willow pulled up in front of the stadium. “Thanks for the conversation,” she said dryly. A small smile still played on her lips as she stopped the car, and left the engine running.
I stared at the glassed doors, the people milling around the entrance. The game hadn’t started yet, but it was a close thing. She’d gotten me here on time and I stalled for no comprehensible reason. “You’re welcome,” I said absently.
“Okay, so this is the part where you get out of the car and go jock it up.” She wiggled her shoulders, and despite the sweatshirt, everything else jiggled too.
“Come watch the game.” The words slipped out of my mouth, but I didn't feel the need to retract them. “Please. Let me say thank you to the girl who got me here on time.”
You’ve given me a small insight into your life and shown me who you are. Let me do the same.
I couldn’t say that, either. But some part of me thought she wouldn’t laugh at me if I had.
“A hockey game?” Willow blinked, disconcerted. “I’ve never been to one. And I don’t have tickets.”
“I can fix that.” I directed her around the back of the building, where the players parked. My spot was empty, next to Coach’s.
“Are you sure about this, Nap—” she stopped with a small giggle. “I can’t keep using your name. It’s too damn long and all I see is a little, pompous man in a big hat. You’re…well.” She eyed me, her gaze sparkling. “You’re only half of that.”
“I’ve got my big hat in the locker room. Out on the ice, they call me Crush. If Napoleon or Lancaster are too long, try that.” It felt weird, saying it to a girl, but in that moment, I didn’t have anything else to offer her. I hesitated, wondering if she would banter it out with me, but she said nothing. “And I’m gonna get my ass kicked if I don’t get in there right now. Come on. I’ll get you a seat.” Willow turned off the car and clutched her keys. “Willow?”
