AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His eyes narrow with concern. “What about something light?”
“I’m really fine,” I say.
He nods, his full lips pressed into a tight line. “I’ll just grab a scone then. When I get back, I want to hear all about this new consulting business.” He smiles and another hot shiver runs through me.
I watch as he gets himself an Americano and a scone, which despite my protestations, I’m grateful for. I couldn’t justify buying one when my finances are in literal shambles.
“Thank you,” I say when he returns, pushing the plate it’s on toward me. He smiles as he sits, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, breaking off a piece of the scone and chewing on it. His stubbled jaw works the scone. The hard angles of it does something to me as I watch it work that piece of pastry.
A flush moves across my chest and I swear my nipples harden.
Freaking pregnancy hormones.
“You sure?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says with a big sigh. “Just lost another recruit. But it’s fine. We were backfilling the pipeline.”
I nod. I like hearing about his world. It’s so different than anything I’ve ever known. I ask questions about the rest of their recruitment season, which will run through October. It’s busiest right now though, as high school athletes’ seasons end and before college practice starts. I find that I don’t run out of questions, and after a while, he starts to laugh.
“I love that you’re so interested, but honestly, I would love to talk about anything but hockey,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh. He takes a long sip of his coffee. “Tell me about this consulting business?”
“Who told you about it?” I ask, pleased that he heard. But he winces, as if it hurts him to answer it. My stomach twists.
“Uh, Zeke did, actually. I had lunch with him and Freddy a few days ago, and he mentioned it.”
My chest tightens, but I’m not sure why. I feel bad that he had to hear about it from my ex. But Zeke has zero feelings for me because he’s obsessed with Faye, and he obviously heard it from her.
But it also probably means that he knows about the baby.
“Oh,” I say.
“It’s okay,” he says, smiling again. Again, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I should have told you myself,” I say, shaking my head. I don’t know why I didn’t think to. It’s felt like a win to not want to text him every moment of the day. But he’s involved now. Of course he would want to know what the mother of his child is doing for work.
“It’s okay,” he repeats.
“No, it’s not,” I say, placing my hand over his. “I should have told you. This is big. I have a different job, and it’s going to be stressful, which could have an impact on things with… the pregnancy. I should have told you. I’m sorry. I’ll keep you posted in the fut—”
His lips press against mine, and I freeze. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb stroking along my jaw, coaxing me to relax, to let him control the kiss. His touch is like an electric jolt, and after a moment, I yield, leaning into the way he works his lips over mine, the tip of his tongue teasing the soft crease of my lips. He pulls away, his fingertips leaving invisible marks on my skin. Marks that I’m not sure I ever want to go away. He’s been so polite and gentlemanly ever since we got back from the doctor’s office, and this little slip has my pulse racing and my lower tummy clenching. When I open my eyes, he’s smiling.
“It’s okay,” he repeats again. “I like knowing about your life. But you don’t owe me anything.”
I feel my face fall at the same time his smile does, reacting to his words.
He clears his throat. “I mean, I’m just saying it’s okay—”
“I got it,” I say, hating the way my heart twists at the notion that we don’t owe each other anything. Of course, that makes sense. I did ask to take things slow. I just wish my heart and my hormones would get the message.
He nods, and it’s awkward again. I hate this. I hate this awkwardness so much because I feel like it’s my fault. I put it there. I told him we needed to take a step back and slow things down for the sake of the baby. But now he looks miserable and I’m dazed and horny.
“I’m sorry,” I say, unable to keep it in anymore.
“For what?” he asks, his brows low and his voice soft.
