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“Oh. That sucks. I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to do in thissituation.
He shrugged and took a sip from his water as silence stretched, long but not entirely awkward.
His scar danced around his cup, and my mouth moved before I could stop it. “Was that from a puck?”
“Huh?” he mumbled, looking up at me through his lashes.
Going with my slip of the tongue, I forged ahead and pointed at the scar on his lip that carved a prominent line through his dark stubble. “That scar. Is it from a puck?”
He reached up and traced it instinctually, his blunt fingernails scratching against his stubble with a light rasping noise. “Yeah. I got it when I was … fourteen maybe. Me and my friends were messing around on an outdoor rink, without any helmets, and a puck came up out of nowhere and got me.”
“Did it break any teeth?” While, with better gear and dental procedures, missing teeth were not as rampant in hockey as they used to be, holes in players’ smiles weren’tuncommon.
“Nope,” Kingston said with a pop at the end of the word. Next thing I knew, I was looking at perfect rows of pearly white teeth coming from the most breath-taking smile I had ever seen. The corners of his lips were sharper than a skate blade. Crinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes, bringing his stoic grey eyes to life. If it weren’t for the scar on his lip or his slightly crooked nose, he would be as perfect as a Greek statue. “Didn’t break or chip anything. Although I was bleeding like a stuck pig.”
I huffed out a small laugh, thankful when he put his smile back in his pocket. I had only seen hints of tiny grins from him and the fake, tight-lipped smiles that he gave to the press. Even with the kiddos earlier, he only broke out soft looks, nothing like the giant smile that was currently blinding me. I could only be glad he never revealed it during a game. I would freeze in place if I ever saw it on the ice. “I could imagine. Maybe you should wear a cage.”
Kingston cracked another smile, this one just a twitch of his lips. “Aw, c’mon, I was a kid. And can you really judge? Unlike the rest of us, you get to wear a full-face mask allthe time.”
I pursed my lips for a moment, deciding if I wanted to admit to my childhood stupidity, then gave in, in the name of our newfound friendship. “Okay, fine. I’m going to show you something, but you can’t tell anyone else. Ever!”
Kingston leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and eagerly searched my face. “Ipromise.”
I took a deep breath then tilted my head back, showing him the underside of my chin.
A moment passed in silence then I felt something touch my neck. I froze as his fingertip grazed the scar under my chin. “Wait. That little scar? I can barely see it. Why are you embarrassed?”
Kingston took his finger away, and I lowered my chin, trying to remember what he just said. Oh, yeah. I took a sip of my water to relieve my suddenly dry throat then answeredKingston.
“It’s not the scar so much as the story behind it that’s embarrassing. It was my third game in juniors. Like always, I was trying to prove myself to the guys.” I paused and snorted, smiling ruefully as my face heated. No doubt my face would be tomato red in a minute—the downside of pasty, Russian skin. “We were warming up before the game, and I was blocking shots when one of the guys’ girlfriends came to the glass to say hi to him. She wasreallypretty…”
Kingston chuckled as I trailed off, knowing where this was going. “Please tell me you didn’t get distracted by a girl, Warren. Please.”
I laughed in pain and winced at the memory. “I didn’t even notice that I took off my mask as I was staring at her until I was flat on the ice and all I could see was the ceiling of the arena.”
With a half-groan, half-laugh, Kingston slapped his hand over his face. Then he took it away to give me a faux-disappointed look. “What is it kids these days say? Something about hopelesslesbians?”
I snorted. “You mean ‘useless lesbian.’ And at least I’m not as bad anymore. Also, really? ‘Kids these days?’ Your age is showing,” I taunted. Admittedly, he was only thirty, but I had just turned twenty-one. Add in the short lifespan of professional athletes, and the guy was getting up there in years. Still, I would bet he had at least four more seasons in him.
The waitress returned with our food, and all conversation stopped as we dug in like starving wolves.
Ten minutes later, Kingston finished off his burger and leaned back into the booth, gazing at me from under food-lazy eyelids. “You’re paying, right?”
“The superstar is cheap? I should haveguessed.”
“Hey, I’m at the end of my contract. I could be out of a job in a couple months.”
Yeah, and I’m the best sniper in the league. I managed to hold in my eye roll. No doubt management will be bumping into the salary cap when they sign Kingston on for a few more years. And they will be happy to do so; he wasworth it.
Still, I acquiesced. “I’ll pay on one condition.”
Kingston arched a brow.Howthe hell…?
“You have to order a dessert with me. I can’t break my diet alone.”
“So, you’re bringing me down with you?” Sebastian asked with an amused smirk.
“Sure am. Do we have a deal?”
