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But I’m also taking her question seriously. I bend down, brush my lips against hers. “I’ve been trying to reason out this connection myself.”
“It’s not normal, right?”
“I’ve never experienced it.”
Her fingertips play with the ends of my hair at my neck. “Not even with Tracy?”
It’s the first time she’s brought Tracy up as a comparison, but before I can reassure her, her hand covers my mouth and she shakes her head. “No. Don’t answer that. That was a stupid, trite question for me to even ask.”
I lightly bite her palm, causing her to jerk away. “I won’t answer the question, but I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve never talked about Rachel or the plane crash with any woman I’ve dated.”
Stevie’s eyes flare, then go tender. “Really? Because I’ve never talked to anyone about my mom, other than Harlow. I don’t even talk to my dad about her because I don’t want to hurt his feelings that I have…”
Her words trail off, but I take a guess. “Feelings for her? It’s all right to love her, you know.”
“See… I don’t know if I do.” Her forehead wrinkles in consternation, gaze drifting off a second. When it comes back to me, she says, “I started writing in a diary… journaling… when I was young. It was suggested by a therapist my dad sent me to as a way for me to process my feelings about my mom, by writing them on paper. Over the course of my life, I’ve continued to journal about her, and if I were to go back and read all my entries, not a single one mentions the word love where she’s concerned.”
“It’s also okay not to love her, but it’s all right to care for her. It’s all right to want more.”
“Not sure my dad agrees with that.”
I kiss her. “Your dad is a good man, I can tell. He might not agree, but he’ll let you figure it out on your own.”
“Yeah,” she says with such deep fondness, her tone is wistful. “I know.”
A thought occurs, and I bend closer. “Am I in that journal of yours?”
Stevie’s face flushes. “Maybe.”
“What did you say about me?”
“None of your business,” she says primly. “It holds my private thoughts.”
Laughing, I bend down for a hard kiss. “You’re entitled. Now, how about we get up and make some dinner? I’m starved. Then hot tub, then I’m going to fuck you again. Sound good?”
“Sounds amazing.”
I rub my nose along hers. “One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to come to the game tomorrow.”
“I can’t—”
I slam my mouth on hers, shutting off the denial. “I’ve got two tickets already at will call. One for you, one for your dad. I’m going to make him like me. We’ll go out after.”
“I have to work and—”
I kiss her again. “Please.”
“Hendrix, I just can’t—”
One more kiss. “I’m begging.”
Stevie’s eyes warm, and I see the capitulation along with a bit of censure. “You know I have a job, and that includes tending bar.”
“I am by no means making light of your responsibilities, but you are the boss. Is it possible for you to switch to days rather than nights so we can spend them together?”
“I mean… I suppose. My day shift person would love to move to nights as it’s better tips. And I work nights mainly because I’m a night owl.”
“Then switch, not just for me, but for us. Give us a chance since our time together is already cut because of my travel schedule. I’m sorry that puts the burden on you to make the change and I would if my schedule was more flexible, but I want to give this a solid go.”
Stevie’s eyes twinkle. “You just want more consistent sex.”
“Yes. Not going to deny that. But what I really want is more consistent you.”
Slipping her hands behind my head, Stevie brings my mouth down to hers, and it’s not a sweet kiss of assent. It’s a hot kiss with her tongue sliding right into my mouth, stirring my dick. She doesn’t give me the words, but I can tell by the surety in her touch that she’ll commit herself to do what is required so we can take our shot.
Same as me.
CHAPTER 11
Stevie
“You know he’s totally buying my approval,” my dad grumbles as we move down the steps of the arena to our seats. Down, down, down we go until we hit row B, just two back from the Titans’ bench. “I’m mean… look where we’re sitting. It’s total bribery.”
I snicker as I step in and find our seats. The teams are already out on the ice warming up, and I search for Hendrix. I lower myself carefully while balancing my beer, and then I see him.
Number 63.
We watch in silence as the guys run two-on-one warm-up drills and then move into single breakaways against the goalie. I’ve only been to a few games over my life. The tickets are super expensive, so it was a bit of a luxury purchase growing up, and as an adult, I don’t go at all unless someone invites me. I’ve been twice with Harlow—once last season and once this season—but this is the first time my father and I have seen a game together in years, long before I was an adult. He loves hockey, but his true love is football, so if he’s going to spend a lot of money on a Pittsburgh sport, it’ll be to watch a showdown on the gridiron.
