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She finally rolls her eyes and bristles a bit, picking up half a piece of her grilled cheese and taking a bite. “He doesn’t use me.”
“Not in the way I would,” I utter under my breath, running the pad of my thumb over the long stubble along my jawline.
Yeah, I said it.
Out loud.
And Hollyn can take that any which way she wants. It doesn’t mean I’m going to be a dumbass and act upon it. I’m disciplined and hell-bent on my career. No woman fit within the lines of my job, my training, and my peace.
Adding another being to that would be disastrous and cause me to walk out in the middle of traffic.
“I’ve heard women say always to downgrade when you date, but you’ve hit rock bottom with that one.”
At lightning speed, she throws a French fry, and it hits me square in the chest. “How about you worry about your dating life, and I’ll worry about mine?”
I don’t have one.
I don’t want one, either.
And now we’re getting to the heart of the matter here. This beautiful little morsel of a woman wants to get close and cozy with the biggest loser I’ve ever seen.
God help her.
She’s in for a load of disappointment and time that she’s not going to gain back.
“You want to date him,” I state, almost sardonically, and Hollyn appears as though she wants to melt into a puddle with how this conversation has shifted to her.
I’m not trying to make her feel bad, to see reason. This is by far the stupidest thing I’ve ever been asked to help with, and for a guy who doesn’t deserve any of it. It tops me—of all people—to teach kids how to play hockey.
“I want to talk about you staying,” Hollyn surmises evenly. “What else would you do with your time if not here?”
Easy.
“Support my team.”
“They’re grown men,” she retorts. “You have the opportunity to change kids’ lives.”
Yeah, yeah. Helping today’s generation and all that.
“I’m not performing open-heart surgery,” I state because I’m still not bought on the whole idea, but she’s right. What else am I going to do?
Dylan is set on me doing this, and these next few weeks should go by quickly. If Hollyn and I are on the same page, it’ll give her something to do after practice so I can dip out while she handles the parental figures.
“No, you’re not performing surgery, correct…. But,” she agrees with a smile, beaming at whatever is going on in that pretty little head of hers. “you’re giving them hope that, if they put enough work into something, it could work. And, in return…” She bites down on the inside of her bottom lip, drawing my attention there. “You can help me get Weston’s attention.”
She doesn’t have it already?
It only ensures more of what I’ve been saying when I proclaim that the dude is a straight-up moron. How could he not show any interest in her? Is he blind?
“I need to learn hockey,” she tacks on.
I don’t think Weston should be thinking about hockey when he has her standing in front of him. Even my brain shifts and skips down a path that it shouldn’t be on.
She’s in light blue jeans today, and I don’t know why I like them so much. Maybe it’s because it shows off more of her curves. She wears them well.
Hollyn is also wearing an oversized long-sleeve shirt, but she’s still a double-take. There is nothing about this woman that screams normal.
Her long, curly hair drapes around her shoulders with ease. Her bright light blue eyes are mesmerizing and God help you if you get stuck in them. Because fuck me, my cock has twitched a few times in response to how she looks up at me, and the ideas rummaging through my head have been downright corrupt. Hockey wouldn’t be what I’d be teaching Hollyn.
