I swallow down that dose of reality and say, “There’s nothing wrong with a blank canvas. It just means you’ve got plenty of room to work.”
She opens her mouth as if she’s about to argue, then thinks better of it. Instead, she yawns.
“Sorry,” she says, her voice dropping an octave.
I finish off my beer, drop the bottle into the recycling bin, and push off the counter. “Let’s get you to bed, huh?”
We both pause, and a wave of awkwardness crashes through the room.
I wince. “I just meant…” But I don’t finish the sentence.
Nessa chuckles. “It’s fine. I knew what you meant. Just give me a pillow and blanket and point me to the couch.”
I snort. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”
“Oh, do you have a spare bed, then?”
“No, you’re sleeping in my room.”
CHAPTER 11
VANESSA
Gavin laughs, and the sound is low and rumbly and goes right between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together as subtly as I can, trying to push the feeling away, but all it does is make it worse.
“Don’t worry, love, I’m not sleeping in there with you.”
Disappointment rattles through me, and I try not to show it. I shouldn’t be feeling that way anyway. We are just friends, after all, and since we’re friends, it doesn’t feel right to take his bed and make him sleep on the couch.
“It feels wrong to steal your bed.”
“It’s not stealing if I’m offering. End of discussion.”
He says it with such finality that I snap my mouth closed, and I chalk it up to being so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. He pads out of the kitchen, and I follow after him, taking in his penthouse as we go. Photos line the light gray walls, and I assume it’s the nieces and nephews he’s so fond of. There are multiple images of what I can only assume is his family, and even a few of him with teammates, too. I can’t recall the last time I saw a guy actuallywantto display his love for his family and friends like this.
But that’s not all he has that surprises me. Sitting opposite the large leather sofa that can’t possibly be comfortable to sleep on is a tank.
“Is this saltwater?” I ask, bending down to peer in.
“Yep. This is my pride and joy.” Gavin leans down next to me, then points to the little fish in the corner. “This is Pearl.” He points to a second, smaller fish I hadn’t noticed before. “And this is Rufus.”
“They’re clown fish? Like Nemo?”
He chuckles. “Yes, just like Nemo. And these little guys are firefish goby. They get along well, which is important. Don’t want anyone getting too feisty.”
“Wow,” I say, watching them swim around in their home. It’s full of beautiful coral and anemones and so many other things I can’t even begin to name. “They’re all so pretty. This tank is gorgeous. All the colors and rocks…it’s all so vibrant. Peaceful.”
“Thanks. I, uh, I got into fish when I was younger. Having so many siblings meant limited space in the house. We already had four dogs and two cats, so when I wanted a pet of my own, my parents insisted it be something small so it wouldn’t take up too much room. I settled on a goldfish, and it took off from there.” I’m no longer looking at the fish. I’m looking at Gavin and how his eyes grow brighter with each word. It’s so cute to see him so clearly excited about something. “I built this tank about six years ago. Definitely sucks when it comes time to trade teams, but I wouldn’t change it. I could sit and watch them swim all night.”
“Is that why there’s no TV in here?”
He winces. “Is that weird?”
“Only if you tell me you don’t have one at all. Then I might have to make an excuse to leave because there is no way you’re not a secret serial killer.”
He grins. “I have one in my bedroom.”
“Phew. That was a close call.”
