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Forty minutes later, we head to one of my favorite burger joints. We’re seated at the back, my preferred spot, and already have our food.
“You said you have a roommate. What did you tell her you were up to?” I ask, popping a French fry into my mouth.
She fidgets in her seat, and that immediately puts me on edge. What did she tell this roommate?
“I told her I met a guy, and I was heading off with him for a bit.” She acts like it’s no big deal.
“You met a guy and ran off with him? And she didn’t find that odd?” As soon as the question is out, I’m internally kicking myself.
I know better than to ask questions about her life. That only leaves me open to critique of my own.
“She found it more than odd. This is not something I do.” She pats her lips with a napkin. “In all the years I’ve known Emma, I’ve never been serious with anyone. For me to come home and claim I met a guy worth uprooting my life for…yeah…she had questions.”
“So what did you tell her?”
She smirks. “I turned on the TV and found a sports station playing highlights of your game. It was pretty simple after that.”
One corner of my lips tilts. “Is she a fan?”
She lifts one eyebrow and frowns. “No. Emma does not speak sports…per se. However, she’d have to have her head in the sand not to know who you are. Considering you’re easy to look at, her words,” she quickly amends. “There weren’t a lot of questions after that.”
I chew the bite of cheeseburger in my mouth, take a sip of water, and consider this. “She didn’t want to know anything about me?”
She chuckles. “She was too busy gushing about how good you look to ask any questions. There was a whole lot of cursing me and my luck and begging me to find her a hockey hottie.” She shakes her head. “She practically packed my bags for me.”
I take another bite around the smile that threatens to spread across my face. That conversation went much better than I originally thought. There is a bit of concern on my end about how easily Cassidy’s family and friends stepped aside for her to run off with a stranger. Hockey star or not. Doesn’t anyone worry about my motives?
Not your problem.
We quickly eat, keeping the rest of our conversation light. When we’re done and headed out of the place, a light flashes, and I cringe. Normally, the press is not an issue. Hockey players don’t get the same harassment as football or basketball, but apparently, this douchebag didn’t get the memo.
Since I didn’t expect this, I didn’t prepare her or myself for any press hounding us.
Cassidy moves toward me, and I wrap my arm around her back, leading her through the fray.
“What’s your name?” the man says, and I narrow my eyes. He looks familiar. “How did you meet? Are you two official?” He fires off questions at a speed that even if I weren’t reluctant to answer, I couldn’t. “Where did you come from? Why have we never seen you together?”
The more questions he asks, the more familiar his voice becomes. I know I’ve heard it before. Then it hits me. He’s a local newscaster. New if I remember correctly. I think he was on weather before. He now covers sports, and by the looks of it, he’s hungry as fuck for a story, and Cass and I are on the menu.
He hurls questions at us a million miles a minute, but to Cassidy’s credit, she takes it in stride. She offers a smile and a cute little wave but doesn’t say a word, allowing me to lead us to safety.
We get to my car, and I help her into her seat, shutting the door behind her and the never-ending questions. She’s safe. I just need to get us out of here.
“No comment,” I say, pushing my way to my own door.
I start the Jeep up and pull away on a groan. “I’m sorry about that. That doesn’t usually happen.”
She shakes her head. “I kinda figured I’d be subjected to paparazzi.” She blows out a breath. “If that’s how it always is, no wonder you don’t date.”
The truth is that’s one of the smallest reasons. She wouldn’t understand the more important reasons. Nobody would. “Actually, hockey players don’t usually have to deal with that.”
“Well, that guy seemed to think there was a story,” she deadpans.
“Regardless of whatever that guy thought, you did good,” I say, glad to see she’s not in hysterics like some women would be. “Handled it well.”
Even better, she’s not riding high on the spotlight. If she was, I’d be reconsidering this whole thing. Getting caught up in the limelight could change her mind about keeping this professional, and we can’t have that.
“Wanna grab a beer with the guys?”
