“Sounds good,” I murmur, watching him go.
Dean’s lankier than Blue—his team captain and my surrogate older brother—but his backside is pure beefcake. You could bounce an entirehandfulof quarters off that round, muscled ass. And he’s tall, too, a good four inches taller than me, which is rare for a girl a whisper away from six feet. I’m used to being as tall or taller than the men I date. It’s not something that’s ever bothered me, but looking up at a guy for once is…kind of nice.
Especially when the guy looks as good as Dean.
My head is in the perfect place for a night like this, I decide, arranging a paper liner in a faded straw basket and scooping salty-smelling movie-style popcorn inside. I’ll stay focused on Dean’s yummy exterior, have a great time breaking my dry spell, and walk away without a mark on my secretly squishy heart.
I have enough physical scars.
I don’t need any emotional ones right now, thank you very much.
He returns with beers, salt-and-vinegar chips, and a package of BBQ-flavored pork rinds.
“Quite possibly the most disgusting Southern snack food of all,” I observe as I study the winking pig on the cover. “When my friend, Shelby, told me what they were made of, I didn’t believe her at first.”
Dean wrinkles his nose. “Sorry. They were the only other option aside from the chips. We don’t have to eat them. I prefer the stale popcorn, honestly.” He grabs a handful, funneling it into his mouth and chewing with a low moan. “Damn. So good.”
Still pretty sure he’s messing with me, I pop a couple of pieces between my lips, and salty, buttery hits my tongue. “Wow.” I chew behind my hand as the experience evolves. “You’re right, the texture is pure Styrofoam, but the flavor is?—”
“Heaven,” Dean cuts in, collecting another handful.
I laugh. “So, how did you find this place?”
“A friend of mine from the team comes here sometimes. After my divorce was final, he brought me here to ‘celebrate.’ I wasn’t really in the mood, but…” His lips curve in a tight smile. “I ended up hitting it off with Karen and craving the popcorn, so…”
“I wonder what they do to it to make it so addictive?” I ask, diving in for more.
“Dark magic,” Dean says seriously. “It’s the only answer.”
I hum low in my throat. “Well, you play for the Voodoo, guess you would know. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you when we first met. Blue gave me season tickets, and I’ve watched at least four games all the way through this year.”
“All the way through,” he repeats, arching a teasing brow. “As opposed to ducking out after the first period? Not a hockey fan, I’m guessing?”
“No, I like hockey. I’m just usually exhausted. Before the accident, I was at the diner all the time. And after, well…” I force a breezy note into my voice, “I’m not able to work as many shifts, but turns out healing from multiple bone fractures is pretty tiring. Who knew? So where are you from originally?” I ask, ready to move on from my tragic recent past.
“Minnesota. My mom got a job at a law firm outside of Minneapolis when I was a kid. My big brother and I hated it at first, but then we discovered the youth hockey league and…the rest is history. He coaches full-time in our hometown, and I went pro. How about you?”
“Missouri,” I say, bobbing a shoulder. “Didn’t love it. Didn’t hate it, but by the time I graduated from high school, I was readyto leave. I stuck around for a while, doing community college to make my dad happy, but it wasn’t for me. I’m too artsy-fartsy for business school. And most of the things you need to learn about starting a business, you can learn online for free now anyway.”
“Business school, huh? I would have thought you’d be a music major. You’re an incredible musician,” he says, continuing to be not-at-all shy with the compliments.
Which is so rare! I swear, it feels like guys my ageresent itwhen they realize I’m not just a pretty girl who sews clothes. The fact that I can make my bass do sexy things on stage sours them faster than the fact that I’m allegedly “way taller than five-ten.” (Spoiler: I amnotway taller than five-ten. They are all lying to themselves about how shorttheyare, and need to continue living in denial more than they need to date a fantastic tall girl like me.)
I honestly don’t get it. You would think a guy would be proud that the person he’s dating is talented, but apparently not.
Sigh…
Why, oh why, couldn’t I have met Dean sooner? Pre-kids?
Though, considering our age gap, I’m guessing he was in his twenties when he met his ex. I was probably still in middle school at the time, so…
Argh.I should probably ask him exactly how old he is.
Or go Google it in the bathroom.
I shouldalsoprobably tell him that I’m twenty-four. I don’t look especially young. I have one of those faces that will probably look thirty-something until I’m in my sixties, like my dad. And all Dean knows about me is that I’m friends with Blue and Beatrice, both of whom are quite a bit older than I am. He might honestly have no idea that we’re at different places in life.
Time to come clean, I guess.
