Page 57 of One Night with Number Nineteen

A lazy shrug, but he doesn’t stop me from touching him. “Aches and pains are part of the game,” he says dryly.

“And broken bones and stitches and blood too, right?”

His lips twitch. “Something like that.”

“Okay. Great. You’re big and tough.” I move around behind him. “Now just sit there and hold still.”

“Is it okay that I’m standing?”

I blink, the dry teasing taking me a moment to process.

Then lean forward and pretend to glare at him. “Is this a glimpse of the real Sawyer beneath all the helpful and sweet?”

That dark thing in his eyes comes back. “What do you⁠—”

I meant there’s a bit of snark inside him, a bit of fire—and not just the kind that’s found on the ice. But of a man who’s thoughtful and considerate and kind, but there’s a hint of wicked in him too.

He kissed like a man who has all of that.

And more.

But he’s clearly thinking that I’m thinking something else.

And I really really don’t like the look in his eyes.

“I like every part of you I’ve met so far,” I say gently.

In a flash, the darkness is erased and he’s back to his normal jovial self. “You haven’t smelled me after a game.” A wink. “You definitely wouldn’t like me then.”

I pause, alarm bells blaring, a confusing mix of curiosity and sadness and caution telling me to slow down instead of pushing for details.

For him.

For me.

Maybe it would be smarter to stay away altogether, to go back to quiet distance and superficial friendship.

But every cell in my body screams at me that it would be a mistake.

That I’ll wake up one day and know it was the biggest one of my life.

I need to know this man—no matter where it leads.

But I need to do it slowly. Safely. For me and Ollie. For…

Sawyer.

“I have powerful soap,” I say lightly, shifting behind him and letting my fingers run over the back of his neck, feeling the strong muscles there. The tight muscles. “We could always hose you off in the front yard before you come into the house.”

He chuckles. Then grunts.

“Sore?” I ask softly.

“It’s fine. I’ll see my PT in a few days, and he’ll help me sort it out.”

“You know”—I gently find the edge of the knot and start rubbing it—“I really messed up my neck after Ollie.”

“Yeah?” he says, his body jerking when I hit a tight spot.