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“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Shorty, except for the fact that I deem your choices on men to be a little underwhelming.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll keep that in mind while I’m scrolling through Pinterest and making my wedding board like every other female in the world.” I gesture for the door. “Now, did you want to go or stand here and talk about how you have no game?”
Reid lifts a brow. “Now, we’re switching tactics?”
“Why not? You want to talk about my life choices. Let’s talk about how you have the personality of a wall. Do people send you messages in Morse code because you don’t speak to people well, or do they draw a message out to you on the ice? Maybe sign language. Do you know this one?” I lift my middle finger up in the air, and Reid barks out in laughter, defusing my rising temper with just that one action.
It’s rare; I know it is.
Reid doesn’t have laugh lines even though there’s stubble all around his lips, but it doesn’t sound used enough.
Especially when it’s so easy for him to calm it down altogether.
“Yeah, Shorty,” he asserts. “I see that one all the time.”
“I bet you do.”
Then I stride for the door, knowing that he’ll follow me and conscious of the fact that any other female would kick him out of her apartment and tell him to fly a kite during a storm.
But Reid needs this.
He can’t go through life glowering and grumbling at everyone. He needs to interact and have a small tribe of people surrounding him who are going to take care of him if he needs it.
That’s what I want for him, regardless of his lack of politeness. Something made him this way and I’m curious to find out, but too much of a coward to ask.
It’s none of my business.
But, while he’s here with me, maybe I can direct him down the path of opening up a little more and thinking before he speaks and starts evaluating people.
The jerkface.
HOLLYN
Okay, so I didn’t realize how violent hockey was.
I’ve watched two merciless fights on the ice. Another brawl broke out in the section next to us all while Reid was hunched over his knees, hands folded together as he watched his team play.
Saying that he’s in his element is the understatement of the century.
The man is in a trance, following every play, grumbling obscenities at the referees and barely moving an inch from his spot.
He didn’t want anything to eat but bought me a hot dog, fries, and a cherry Coke without even asking me. When one of the vendors finally came down with candied almonds, he got me some of those, too.
I’m not sure if he’s being nice, thoughtful, or giving me food to shut me up, but I was starving so I didn’t complain.
“You want a beer?”
I crane my head to look at the back of his head, still leaning over his legs as his eyes follow the players across the ice underneath his black baseball cap. “I’m good, thanks.”
“C’mon, Shorty,” he drones with a scowl as soon as a whistle blows. “You can’t say you’ve had the full experience until you’ve drunk a beer at a hockey game.” Those hazel eyes break from the game then and slither up to me. “Unless you’d like one of those girlie drinks.”
Goodness.
The look on his face is suddenly smug and alluring. Like a monster that’s trying to lure me into his cave so that he can have his way with me.
No, not that way, Hollyn. He’ll probably eat you.
“I wouldn’t want to make you go through the trouble of getting me a girly drink,” I reply in earnest. “You’ll miss the game.”
