Jordan leaned against the counter, the weight of what his brother had asked him suddenly beginning to push down on his shoulders. "I should be, right?"
"Oh no. Don't start over thinking this."
Too late. Ethan's question had brought up an internal conflict that he had subconsciously been grappling with ever since he first decided to pursue Charlotte. He was hoping he could still ignore it, but the facts as they were now meant that he had to actually address what was bothering him.
"I'm going to go take my game-day nap," Jordan grumbled as he took the orange juice container and shoved it back in the fridge.
His brother stood up from his seat. "Jordan, don't get spooked by your feelings for a woman if you want to have them."
"Thanks."
Ethan nodded and headed back to his office, leaving Jordan stuck in his thoughts. He trudged up the stairs, took off his clothes — except for the shirt that still smelled like Charlotte — and climbed under his sheets. Was getting involved with a woman best known for being a socialite really what he wanted to do? He knew she was more than that, but most people would make their assumptions. He had deflected enough reporters' questions that they had finally stopped asking about his personal life before they put away their notebooks. They had finally focused on his scoring and the team and the potential to win the cup this year.
He couldn't imagine what those reporters would do once they found out about his date with Charlotte.
The date.
Jordan groaned and rolled over, banging his head into his pillow before feeling the tension ease in his shoulders as he drifted off to sleep. He would worry about all that when he woke up. Right now, he just wanted to close his eyes and think of Charlotte's golden hair running through his fingers.
Chapter 8
Jordan had insisted that he pick Charlotte up on the way home from practice and hang out with him in his part of town. She was all too happy to oblige.
Like most of the players on his team, Jordan lived out in the suburbs despite the fact that it wasn't necessarily a place for single hockey players. But even though she was living in the city, Charlotte was enamored by the quaint downtown area near Jordan's house. Birmingham was filled with little shops and restaurants for typical suburban families along with trendy new brunch spots, including one that served breakfast — and only breakfast — all day.
So after a dinner of omelets, hash browns and beer, which turned out to be a surprisingly good combination, Jordan discreetly led her out the way they came through the restaurant's back entrance. It didn't bother her, but this was Detroit, not New York, which made her a bit curious.
"What's with the covert operation?" she asked as she buckled her seat belt in his Land Rover.
"What do you mean?"
She could tell Jordan was trying to act casual but not really succeeding, and she couldn't decide if it was endearing or worrisome. "You walked us in the back door, had them seat us in a corner, and then tried to sneak out of the place undetected."
"I'm sure the prying eyes here aren't as bad as they are in New York, but they still pry."
Charlotte stared at him. "And you don't want people to see you with me?"
Jordan stopped at a red light and turned to give her a genuine look. "I don't want people to see you with me."
"What's the difference?"
The light turned green and he turned away from her, his gaze still serious. "You don't have the reputation I have, and I don't want the gossips in this town to make you out to be something you're not because of my reputation," he said softly.
Charlotte looked at him, her eyes taking in his entire posture. His shoulders were a bit hunched, his hands tight around the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road so he wouldn't have to face her. She couldn't help but reach out and cover his hand on the wheel with her own, gently prying it off and resting their entwined fingers on the armrest between them.
"We both have our past reputations that we carry with us, and yours is no worse than mine," she said reassuringly.
He gave her a quick smile. "I just want to get this right, Charlotte."
He pulled his hand from hers so he could turn down a residential street lined with large homes and towering old trees. There were no streets like this near her old place in Manhattan and none near her new penthouse like it either. It was one of the trade-offs that Charlotte had to make by living in an urban area: no big trees. Outdoor space was always at a premium for her, making trips to her parents' place in the Hamptons that much more enjoyable. But like Manhattan, she had gotten sick of the scene out there too.
Jordan pulled into the driveway of a red-brick home with traditional finishes and what looked like a large backyard. The three-car garage had plenty of room for his Land Rover and a black sedan that Charlotte assumed belonged to his brother. He walked over to her side of the car to help her out. Even though she knew they weren't practical with his SUV, she couldn't part with her heels. Plus, this particular pair looked good with her tight jeans so she really had no choice.
The lights were already on when they got inside and she followed Jordan's lead, kicking off her shoes by a bench near the back door. A small hallway led into his kitchen, filled with warm browns and modern finishes. It was the perfect balance between suburban home and bachelor pad.
"Want a beer?" he asked as he walked over to the fridge.
"Yes!" came a loud voice from another room.
