AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I scoff. Then it becomes a chuckle until I’m laughing so hard, I’m crying.
He grits his teeth. “Is it funny you made me feel like a fool?”
“Of course not, but you’re going to feel like an even bigger asshole than you already are when I tell you whose jersey I was wearing.”
He leans back against the tufted vinyl, and one hand skims over his jaw. “Is that right?”
Shaking my head, I grab a napkin from the box and fold it into a square. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious and realize it’s another secret and more than likely a deal breaker for both of us.
“Don’t be shy now. You have my undivided attention.” He takes off his jacket and pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing intricate sleeves of art.
“I was wearing Coach Sweet’s jersey.”
He grits his teeth, and his nostrils flare. “Fuck. I’m out of here. You’re sleeping with a forty-year-old man.” He rises from the booth, and I wind my hand around his wrist and tug him back down.
“Forty-six.”
Thousands of daggers shoot from his eyes, wishing me dead and thoroughly disgusted with me, and as upset as I am, I realize I shouldn’t keep him hanging.
“Coach Sweet is my father.”
Fear flashes in his eyes like Luke Skywalker’s when Darth Vader breathed heavily through his mask and said, “I am your father.” His breathing deepens, and his eyes search mine. For truth or lies, I don’t know.
Reed’s mouth twists to one side, chewing on the unexpected information. “I don’t know what to say.”
He covers my hand with his, and I slip it from his touch, placing my hands in my lap. “Maybe an apology,” I say, almost inaudible.
“Wait. I saw your I.D., and your last name isn’t Sweet.” He pulls his hand over his face, scratching the scruff he hasn’t shaved off.
“You’re like all the rest of them, and now that I know you’re a hockey player, you should know —I have a rule about dating hockey players—I don’t.” Standing, I pull out my order pad and scribble on the paper, then throw it down on the table.
I’m done.
Chapter Fifteen
REED
Dulce is another word for sweet. Brooke Dulce. Brooke Sweet.I focus on the rectangular piece of paper for several minutes. Why does she have a different last name? And why am I obsessing over this? Lots of people have different last names than their parents. Hell, I do. I carry my mom’s maiden name.
When my mom married my stepfather, my name didn’t change. I should have known by the time I was a teenager that it was because he never wanted me, but Mom and I came as a package deal. He sent me to boarding school when I was old enough. Of course, it was under the pretense that it was the best preparatory academy in the Midwest and a hockey team that turned out NHL players in record numbers.
Finally, I have gathered my thoughts and walk to the counter. I catch a glimpse of Brooke through the kitchen door. One of her co-workers has his arm around her. It’s an older man, probably of retirement age. She sees me and turns her back to me.
I need time to figure out my next move or if there is going to be a next move, so I file out the exit behind three giggling girls. One trips over her untied shoe, and I help her up.
“Hangover breakfast?” I ask.
The girls snicker and nod. Then one with the pretty auburn hair says, “You’re Reed Bauer.”
“I am.” A smile tugs at my mouth. It feels good to be recognized.
“Oh my God. You’re amazing. I used to watch you at Bennington Prep. You were two grades ahead of me. What happened? You left, and no one heard of you until you started playing for Broadhurst U.”
My smile slips. “Just working on my game.”
“I bet you were.” She trails her fingers down my bare arm, and there’s not one flicker of interest from my dick or my mind. “I live in Kirwan Dorm. 313.”
Glancing over my shoulder, Brooke has her arms folded over her waist.
