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Shaken by my thoughts, I fumble the ball, and it bounces off my hands, rolling to a stop at her feet. She bends over to pick it up, giving me a clear view of the skin on her collarbone. I look away, even as my fingers itch with the need to touch her.
Her face reddens, and she stands. Does she know what I’m thinking? I swear, I have more discipline than this.
“I’m going to go in and make dinner,” she says, jutting a thumb toward the kitchen. She doesn’t wait for a response, only retreats inside, leaving me with Tabby.
“What’s wrong with June?” Tabby asks, taking the ball from me.
“Nothing, baby girl.” It’s not June with the problem right now. It’s me. “Let’s try some dribbling.”
I keep Tabby outside until June calls us for dinner. We put the ball away in the garage and then wash our hands in the powder room.
The second I step into the kitchen, I’m struck again at the changes she’s made to my home. The house has never been this tidy. Mrs. Reyes cleans, but during the times she’s not there, Tabby and I aren’t exactly neat. We throw our trash out and put our clothes in the laundry baskets, but it’s the bare minimum. As a single parent and professional athlete, I’m crazy busy. But this week has been different.
The house isn’t just tidy—it’s homey. There’s always music on. June brought flowers from somewhere. Not the kind I could buy at the florist or grocery store, but the kind that grow somewhere. She probably picked them herself. And the baking. There have been so many muffins and baked goods that have gone through my kitchen, I’m going to need to say something. I can’t eat like this all the time without dragging ass on the rink. But I haven’t got the heart to tell her to stop.
Hell, who am I kidding? The shit she makes is amazing, and I’ve liked it all so much. I don’t want her to stop. Though I might need to ask her to have a consideration for my scale and for Coach Hargreeves’s sanity.
As we sit down to eat, June brings out a new dish. It appears to be some kind of casserole, but I can’t really tell what’s in it. It looks like mostly vegetables. Maybe sausage? I take a bite, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I can feel my eyes roll back in pleasure.
“What is this?” I ask between bites.
“It’s sausage and peppers, but I added beans and stuff because the dietician says complex fiber is good for you.”
Tabby pushes around pieces of sausage on her plate. “Beans make me toot, so June said I could just have the sausage.”
“Tab,” I warn.
“What?” she asks as she spears another sausage medallion. “That’s what you always tell me.”
I sigh as June smothers a laugh. “Right. I do. Thank you, though, June. This is great.” She nods, blushing, and I shift in my seat. No one has ever made me this hot with their blushes. I shake my head and refocus on my dinner. I can’t keep thinking about her like this.
After dinner, I volunteer to do the dishes while June takes Tabby upstairs to get ready for bed. As I scrub a pot, I hear the stairs creak and look up to see June standing there.
“Hey,” she says, leaning against the door frame.
“Hey.” I try to keep it cool, but with her, I don’t think I have it in me. I direct all my attention to the dishes, burying my hands in the soapy water. Having June cook is great, but she uses a lot more dishes than I do with the stuff I make.
“Listen, Duke…” I don’t look at her, but I can feel her shuffling closer to me. I keep my back turned because I know looking at her only makes everything harder. “Um… I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
At that, I do glance over my shoulder. “Sorry?” Not what I expected.
She folds her arms over her chest, and everything in her stance suggests discomfort. But that’s something I admire about her. Even if something’s awkward, she still powers through. “I’m sorry I hugged you the other night. In the living room. After Frozen. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I reach for the kitchen towel and dry my hands, buying myself time to think. She regrets hugging me. I’m surprised at how much that bothers me. No… it’s not that it bothers me. It feels wrong. I wanted that hug. The same as I want to talk to her, learn more about her. I want…
I want her. I want to kiss her. I want to touch her and lose myself in the feel of her skin. I want to bury myself in her until we’re both drowning in the pleasure of one another. It’s hard to understand how I could feel all of those things if she isn’t feeling any of them.
Then again, even if she did, it’s not my place to pursue it. I want us to be friends, to work together like she suggested, but I need to keep the balance. I need to maintain the boundaries.
“It’s no big deal at all,” I offer, trying to keep my voice breezy. “We’re friends. Friends hug.”
She nods, and I see her swallow. Her face rearranges into nonchalance. “Right. Exactly.” She shrugs, waving it off. “I just… after all the stuff at the interview, about personal relationships… I didn’t want you to think I was coming on to you or something.”
Of course, she’s worrying about that. When I told Raybourne I needed to avoid any drama or scandals this year, I never expected I would be the one putting myself in that kind of jeopardy. Last year, a defenseman had an affair with a woman in marketing. The whole mess ended up in his nasty divorce and custody battle. It felt important to mention a need for professionalism in my interview process.
“Absolutely not.” I give her my most confident grin. “We’re friends. All good.”
“Right.” She rocks back and forth on her heels. Pointing to the stairs, she inches that way, all smiles. “Great then. I’ll just run up and make sure Tabby’s moving along.”
