AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He, of course, has no clue that I think he’s so damn freaking sexy.
Speaking of which, why must he look so fine in old, faded jeans and a black tee that shows off his hard body and defined muscles?
Not that I was looking at those muscles, flexing and bulging, as he was putting together my exercise bike.
Okay, I totally was.
I was trying not to, as I don’t want to mess up what we’re building—a friendship. Getting along with Hayden is so much better than fighting with him all the time.
I mean, hell, if we were still at odds, he wouldn’t be putting my bike together. And it surely would have taken me days to assemble the damn thing. Even then, it probably wouldn’t have been right.
I’d probably have sat on it for the first time and ended up on the floor.
After it collapsed, of course.
So, yeah, much like rescuing me from the deck, Hayden has saved me once again.
To show my gratitude, I make him an amazing sandwich. I toast the whole grain bread to perfection and pile on loads of roast beef, provolone cheese, Bibb lettuce, tomato slices, and a smear of mayo.
I even place a dill pickle spear on the side of the plate as a garnish.
Yeah, we’re getting fancy here.
Chuckling, I make my sandwich the same way, but Hayden’s is much bigger.
Hey, he said he was hungry.
When I head back into the living room and hand him his plate, his eyes widen. “Wow, now this is a sandwich.”
Taking a seat on the sofa, I set my own plate on my lap. “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” he says as he lifts the sandwich to his luscious mouth.
Okay, stop it, Addison.
After taking a substantial bite, then chewing and swallowing, he says, “I love it. This is delicious. Good job.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
Hayden takes a break from working on the bike and joins me on the sofa to finish his lunch.
As we eat quietly, I think of something I’ve been meaning to ask him.
Swiping my mouth with a paper napkin, I say, “I know you obviously lived in Chicago for a while, but where are you from originally?”
For some reason, I want to know more about him. The file Ms. Garcia gave me is filled with mostly just hockey-related info.
“Buffalo, New York,” he says around a mouthful of sandwich.
“Huh, interesting. What about family? You were never married, were you?”
That makes him laugh. “No. Were you?”
“No.” I then ask, “What about siblings? Do you have any?”
After he swallows another bite of sandwich, he says, “I have one older brother. He lives in Buffalo still. He’s a great guy. He teaches and coaches high school hockey. What about you? Where are you from? And do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I nod. “I have one sister. Her name is Willow, and she’s a year younger than me. We’re from Pennsylvania, a little town north of Pittsburgh. It’s called Butler.”
