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“Does it hurt when the puck hits you in the face?”
“We wear masks so it doesn’t hit us in the face.”
“Do you ever hit people with your stick?”
Dom considers, looking amused. “I mean, during games, people sometimes get hit by them, but we get a penalty if we just start hitting someone to be mean.”
“What’s a penalty?”
Dom spends the next hour and a half explaining hockey to my nephews, and he does it with immense patience. By the time the game is over, Sam is sitting on the arm of the couch on Dom’s other side.
“Are you Aunt Tess’s boyfriend?” Tate asks as Cam looks for something else to watch.
Dom grins. “I don’t know, you should ask her.”
Both boys look at me. My cheeks are warm as I say, “We’re going out on our first date soon. So he can’t be my boyfriend until we’ve at least gone on a date.”
“You kissed him, though.”
“I’m just a kissable dude,” Dom says, saving me. “Unfortunately, I have to go because I have an extra early morning tomorrow and I promised my dog I’d take him on a walk before bed tonight.”
Tate’s eyes widen. “You have a dog?”
“Yeah, you want to see a picture?”
He scrolls through photos on his phone and I don’t see a single nude—bonus. When he stops on a picture of a beautiful Great Dane, both boys make adoring sounds.
“That’s Boni. You guys should come over and meet him sometime.”
“Can we come over now?” Tate asks.
Cam laughs. “No, we have to study math and you guys need baths. It’s a school night.”
“Sometime soon,” Dom promises.
I walk him out to his car, both of us pausing next to his driver’s side door.
“Thanks for letting me come over. I had a great time.”
Though my instinct is to make a comment about how much fun he could really have explaining hockey to two eight-year-olds, I don’t. He’s been over several times and he knows the deal—small house, lots of kids, but he still asked to be here.
“I’m glad you came.”
He smiles down at me. “Thanks for not punching me in the face.”
I laugh, remembering how angry I was at him when Zane told me Dom was the one who told him to use that awful pickup line. “I kissed you instead. What does that say about my resolve?”
He cups my cheek, his smile fading. “If you’re even half as charmed by me as I am by you, I’m a damned lucky man.”
I warm from head to toe. No man has ever given me such sweet, sincere compliments, and I love the way it feels.
“I’m looking forward to our date,” I say, being uncharacteristically vulnerable.
“So am I. So much. Is there anywhere special you want to go for dinner?”
“Anywhere is fine.”
“I want to pick something you like. Send me some ideas.”
