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Ethan’s a lucky guy.
We drove back to Nolan on Sunday night, four happy clams, until our early alarms started ringing the next morning and back to reality we went.
But you know, maybe I like this new reality. Sure, school is still crazy busy between classes and extra tutoring sessions to catch up what I missed during away games, and then there are the hours of training and workouts, plus the odd physio appointment to keep my body on track. If I get an hour or two of my own time a day, I’m a lucky SOB.
But that hour or two… and what I do with it… well, that’s the part I like.
Fighting a grin, I shake my head and crunch through the snow, pounding my boots on the entry mat before walking into Eat Your Faves diner. It’s my new favorite place to hang.
The food’s okay, not that expensive, and it’s got a really great atmosphere. Filled with college students during the breakfast and lunch rushes, then families between 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. After that, the students filter back in and get noisy until closing or they’re booted out by Boss Lady. I don’t even know her name, but the evening-shift manager is one scary-ass woman.
I often show up at nine. You know, to study. And sure, maybe I’m keeping an eye on the handsy guys who get rowdy.
I guess I’m grateful the manager is tough as nails and won’t tolerate any shit.
I slide into a booth, grabbing a menu and scanning it, even though I’m not that hungry.
Dinner was about an hour ago, and my body doesn’t need any more food, but I need a reason to be here, so I’m eyeing up the desserts when a sexy waitress stops at my booth with a smile that could melt a guy’s brain in a heartbeat.
“Hey, Hockey Man.” Rachel laughs and rests her fist on her hip. “What are you doing here? Again.” She tips her head, trying to look like she wants to tell me off, but she’s fighting a smile the whole time. “You know, if you have a slice of late-night pie every day, you might just get yourself a little pooch.” She pats her stomach, and I can’t help lifting my shirt.
Sure, it’s cocky, but I work hard for these washboard abs, and I love the way Rachel’s lips part and her gaze skims over me like she wants me.
I shouldn’t do it.
I’m basically running at a fire and asking it to burn me.
Lowering my shirt, I dip my chin so she can’t see me fighting a laugh when she mutters, “Or maybe not.”
“I’m just here for a coffee and some studying.” Grabbing my bag off the floor, I unzip it and pull out my laptop as if to make a point, but she sees right through me.
Shaking her head, she goes behind the counter and grabs the coffeepot and a mug.
As she’s pouring the black brew into my cup, she gives me a sideways glance and murmurs, “You’re here to walk me home.”
“Maybe.”
Okay, fine. I have to admit it. Mikayla told me Ray’s car is in the shop and won’t be available until the end of the week, so she walked to work and was planning on walking or calling one of us for a ride home.
The streets are well lit, and it’s only a mile from our house, but I don’t care. Knowing Ray, she wouldn’t want to bother anybody and would walk home alone, in spite of the fact that it would probably terrify her.
Creeps are everywhere, and she can deny it all she likes, but I bet she’s been stressing about what she’s gonna do when her shift ends. She never says anything, but I know she still worries that Theo might pop out of the shadows at any moment.
It’s been three weeks since his phone call, and I still catch her flinching every time a phone starts ringing or vibrating within earshot.
She’s scared he’s gonna find her.
So, if I have to be here every night to walk her home, then that’s what I’m gonna do.
Resting her long fingers on the table, she bends down to look me in the eye. Those green orbs of hers sparkle with amusement. “You’re like my personal bodyguard. You’re gonna protect me from the bad guys, huh?”
“Yes.” I look her right in the eye, making sure she knows I’m 100 percent serious.
Her lips part ever so slightly, her expression turning soft and mushy. I can’t take my eyes off her green gaze, and when she touches my face, something in my chest hitches, like my heart’s just had an electric bolt fire through it.
Her soft breath kisses my mouth just before her lips do. They’re sweet and supple, tasting like orange lip gloss and something I can’t identify until she pulls back with a surprised blink.
She looks about ready to apologize, but before the words can even leave her mouth, I reach forward and take her face in my hands. Rubbing my thumb over her bottom lip, I figure out what that something is.
