He shakes his head, still smiling. “Come on. Let’s get something to wear.”
Wear? Oh, god. I hadn’t even thought about not having something to sleep in. Normally, I sleep in just my underwear and a t-shirt. I can’t do that here. That would be too much…right?
Gavin leads us into his bedroom, and I pause at the threshold. He wasn’t lying about the TV. There’s a big one mounted to the wall opposite the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. A sleek black wooden headboard matches the dresser and bedside tables. Off to the side is a big leather chair with a lamp sitting beside it, and I wonder how many nights he finds himself there with a book.
I laugh when I spot another tank, this one much, much smaller.
“Another fish?”
“Huh?” he says, popping his head out of the closet off to the side. “Oh, yeah. That would be Sir Fishsticks the Fourth.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “What?”
Pink stains the tops of his cheeks. “I, well… That was the name of my first goldfish. When he passed—RIP to the little guy—I got another, and I felt it was appropriate to honor him. I just sort of kept up the tradition through the years.” He grimaces. “It’s hokey, I know. But I was young, all right?”
I smile, shaking my head. “Not hokey. Sweet. It actually kind of humanizes you a bit.”
He tips his head to the side. “Humanizes me?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I mean, you’re… Well, you’reyou. You’re this larger-than-life guy who makes millions of dollars a year playing hockey. People beg for your autograph and photos. They bid on things you sign. Little kids idolize you. Fans literally scream your name. You’re not exactly an average joe.”
He looks surprised by this, like it’s new information to him, and it might be, especially with the way he seems to carry himself. I’ve not spent that much time with him, but never once have I gotten the sense that he thinks he’s better than anyone else. It’s refreshing after spending so much time in a world where I thought Ihadto be better.
When the hell did I get so lost? When did I become that person? When did I lose who I truly am? And can I ever get her back? I don’t know, but I’d like to try.
“Right,” Gavin says, pulling me back to the present. He clears his throat. “Anyway, I think this will work.”
He passes me a gray t-shirt, and I shake it out.Seattle Serpents Hockey Club, it reads. It’s obviously been worn a lot, and I wonder if it’s a frequent flyer of his. Something about that idea makes me feel warm, but I try to ignore it.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it, then pointing to what I assume is the bathroom. “Do you mind if I…”
“Go ahead. There are towels in there if you need them for anything, and extra toothbrushes are in the drawer because I often forget them in hotel rooms and then overbuy them.” He gestures toward the living room. “I’m going to make up the couch.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to stop him and tell him this is ridiculous, I can’t take his bed, and invite him to sleep next to me. But I don’t say any of that. I just nod, then disappear into the bathroom, hiding from him…and maybe myself too.
I find a washcloth and scrub off the little bit of makeup I managed to put on this morning, then grab a toothbrush. I do everything else—including snooping in his other drawers—to avoid putting on the shirt he gave me. It’s silly considering our history, but something about it feels so…intimate.
I’m not sure I’m ready for intimate.
After procrastinating as long as I can, I grab the shirt and trade my own for it. My nipples pebble instantly as the material slides over me, hitting just above my knees. I tell myself it’s because of the cold, but I know it’s because it’shis, and something about that does things to me that it shouldn’t. It smells like him, like warm and cedar. A crisp autumn day and a cozy blanket.
I attempt to push the sensation away as I pad out of the bathroom. Gavin is still in the living room, so I slip under the blankets as quickly as possible, though I don’t know why. He’s seen me in far less than just his t-shirt, but still.
I burrow under the comforter and relax into the bed. It’s heavenly after such a long day and all the hours I’ve been putting in at the bar. Stepping into the bartender role has been easier than I thought. It’s nothing that fills my cup to the brim, but it’s something new, and I’m okay with that for now.
My body is getting comfortable, and my eyes are growing heavy.
“Good?”
I blink my eyes open.When did I even close them?Gavin stands in the doorway leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks so good like this, so relaxed and confident.
“Very. Has anyone ever told you how comfortable your bed is?”
He chuckles, pushing off the door. “I’ve never had anyone else in my bed.”
If I weren’t so tired, I might analyze that more, but my eyelids feel like they weigh ten thousand pounds at this point.
“I’m just going to brush my teeth, then I’ll be out of your hair,” Gavin says.
