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“How did you…” She looked puzzled. Or impressed.
“You squint when you’re looking at something far away.” He paused and cocked his head. “You have a high metabolism and can pretty much eat whatever you want.” When she opened her mouth to say something, his grin widened. “I’ve seen you eat, remember? It’s an impressive thing. You also dislike onions.”
“You saw me pick them off the pizza the other night.”
“I did.” He rocked back on his heels and then leaned closer. “You like red wine, but I’m going to say you’re not averse to the occasional beer. You like to read, watch movies that make you cry and,” he glanced over to the bar, “with the selection on hand, you’re going to order up Bud Light.”
Sidney’s mouth fell open, and he had to work hard to resist the urge to close it. With a kiss.
Jesus. He took a step back. What the hell?
“You’re good,” she said after a couple of seconds, her surprise evident. “How did you know I like sad movies?”
“That part I guessed.” He was jostled from behind. Armstrong had been drunk since noon and now crashed into Beck’s back. Pushed forward, he nearly took out Sid. He grabbed her by the waist in order to keep himself upright, and an electric pulse hit him square in the chest. He let go of her like he’d been holding a hotcake.
“Do you want a drink?” Beck moved back a few paces. Lord knows he needed some space.
Her gaze settled on him, and her eyes seemed to glitter through the darkness. Beck found himself holding his breath.
“You seem to know everything,” Sid said lightly, and her tongue darted out to touch the edge of her mouth. They stared at each other a heartbeat longer. Then her smile widened. “You tell me.”
Chapter Ten
Sid almost bailed on the hockey game.
She’d been in a weird melancholy mood since the day before and was pretty sure Beck Jacobs had something to do with it. Or maybe everything. She’d spent the afternoon working on some new ideas for her brand, and when Molly called her up and asked her come to the championship game with her, she’d initially refused. She’d given Molly a lame excuse, told her she was tired and was going to spend the night with a good book and a bottle of wine.
But an hour or so later, after staring at the same two pages of her book until her eyes blurred, she sat back and thought about the church Beck had taken her to and how amazing it would look with all the plans in her head. Then she thought about Beck and the sadness in his eyes. Which led to thoughts about his smile, that rare bit of ease that lit up his face and turned him from handsome to devastatingly hot.
She’d stared down at the book again, wondered about him and this hockey game and if he’d be celebrating with everyone afterward—according to Molly, it was tradition to go to the dance party. Then she tossed the damn book, called Molly, and told her she was in.
Now she stood a few feet behind him as he sidled up to the bar with his brother to get them drinks, and was trying not to stare at his butt. She lowered her eyes and couldn’t help herself, but in her defense, it was one hell of a fine-looking ass.
“Hockey butt.”
“What?” Startled, she looked up at Molly, who was grinning like a cat who’d just caught the proverbial mouse.
“Look around. They all have them. Hockey butts. It’s from years of skating.” Molly pointed to Beck and Nate. “Those tushies are pretty much the cream of the crop, but still…” She made a comical face. “They’re everywhere. It’s like butt heaven in Crystal Lake.” Her grin widened. “One of the many perks of living in a small hockey town in Michigan.”
Sid giggled. “You guys would be smart to include that in the town’s travel and tourist brochures.”
Molly winked. “Who says we don’t?”
“Don’t what?” Beck handed Sid a Bud Light and took a drink from his own, a questioning look on his face.
“Nothing,” Molly replied, slipping her arm into Nate’s as she leaned into him. “My back is killing me, babe. Can we sit?”
“Sure thing.” Nate dropped a kiss onto her nose. “Let me know when you’ve had enough. I’m good to go home anytime.”
Their love and attraction, the softness in his eyes when he looked at her, was enviable, and Sid glanced away as an ache bloomed inside her. What that ache was, exactly, was up for debate. Was she lonely? For sure. Was it more than that? Probably. Where did Beck figure into things?
The fact that he’d even entered her mind should have freaked her out, but instead, she turned to Beck and found him watching her intently. No longer were things light. No longer was their earlier, mild flirtation in play. This was different. There was something definitely going on here, and Sid actually played around with the idea of seeing where it went. Would it be so wrong to explore whatever this was? She was a grown-ass woman, after all. And sure she had baggage aplenty, but so did Beck.
“We’ll grab some seats, guys.” Molly tugged on Nate’s arm and dragged him toward the table.
“Can I get an introduction?” The newcomer who appeared at Beck’s side was a bear of a man. He had a couple inches on Beck (who had to be at least six foot three, so the man was huge), and his shoulders were as wide as a truck. His head was bald, with some kind of tattoo inked on the side of it, his jaw and chin shadowed with hair, and his eyes were so dark, they appeared black. He was dressed in red plaid flannel and jeans, and his boots were untied.
He looked at Beck and frowned. “You in la-la land or what?”
