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“What about that new guy, Saint, is it? Heard through the grapevine he has a thing for captain’s girls.”
Judging by the way he clenches his jaw I’ve struck a nerve. But my victory is short-lived and my little jab backfires.
“You calling yourself my girl now, Baby Becks?”
“You’re ridiculous.” Heat creeps into my cheeks at the thought.
“And you’re hungover. Go drink some water.”
I turn toward the kitchen. “Fine. I’ll find my own hockey player. Maybe it’s time to let big brother spend some of his hard-earned hockey money on me and fly me down for an Archers game. Heard they have some good-looking new rookies this year. I could really use a trip to the boy aquarium.”
“Delaney.” There’s enough warning in my name to stop me.
I look over my shoulder to find Bishop watching me with his forearms resting on his thighs.
The humor is gone. “Stay away from hockey players.”
Something hot curls low in my stomach. “Why?”
His jaw shifts.
For one second, I think he might actually give me a real answer. Instead, he reaches for his water. “Nothing but trouble.”
Coward.
By the time he showers and emerges with his duffel, I’ve managed coffee, toast, two glasses of water and most of my dignity.
He drops his bag by the door. “Seriously, how much do you remember about last night?”
Apparently I spoke too soon.
“Enough.”
His fingers still on the zipper. “Define enough.”
“I’d rather die.”
His mouth twitches. “That’s what I figured.”
“Can we never discuss it?”
“Which part?”
Heat floods my face.
“All of it.”
Something about his expression changes.
“Yeah, Baby Becks.” He shoulders his bag. “We can do that.”
I should be relieved. Instead, disappointment settles like a stone in my stomach.
“Kay.”
“Okay.” He looks like he wants to say more. Thank God, he doesn’t.
He leaves for Winnipeg ten minutes later.
