Page 20 of He Has MVP (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“How about s’mores? We’ll do an indoor marshmallow roast.”
She nods. “Sounds like a dessert I can look forward to after a cold sandwich for supper.” No smile. She’s cool, taking a book with her to her spot in front of the fire.
“All right then, cold sandwiches coming up.”
She doesn’t respond, but I don’t mind the ice queen act or playing servant to her princess. She has it coming. Going to the cooler for the cold cuts and cheese we picked up, I put together the sandwiches and assemble the ingredients for the s’mores, including the sticks I gathered from the yard to roast the marshmallows.
Remaining quiet with only a nod of acknowledgment when I deliver the sandwiches, she keeps her eyes on whatever she’s reading. She’s cool until I impale the marshmallows on the ends of the sticks and wave one over the top of her book. I set the plate of graham crackers and chocolate squares on the coffee table and open the glass doors of the fireplace to expose the open flames. Then I take a seat on the rug and extend my marshmallow into the fire.
“So tell me,” she says, leaning against the couch, sitting close to the fire and holding her marshmallow stick over the flames. I’m sitting near the dog bed where the puppies are all curled up sleeping. It’s the same way we were last night, except tonight it’s all wrong.
I hold my breath waiting to hear what she wants me to tell her, knowing I’ll reveal just about anything to her right now as I watch her golden hair in the flickering firelight, the pale perfection of her skin. She seems so delicate, yet she’s tougher than nails. Must be the ballerina training she had early on.
“What?” I say in a hoarse whisper.
“When you’re done being a hockey player, will you build bridges?” She turns her eyes from the fire and levels them at me, serious and intense, like I’m a screwed-up column of numbers on her ledger.
The answer is an unqualified yes, but I hold back. She’s testing me—no, she’s judging me.
“Why? You think playing hockey isn’t a real job?”
“I didn’t say that.” Her tone says she’s on defense.
“You didn’t have to.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“I don’t have to answer you.” That was mean. She flinches at the lash and I feel like the shit I am.
“I’m sorry, Pink. I meant that—”
“I know exactly what you mean. I have no business asking you because I’m no one to you—”
“That’s not true. You’re a friend.”
“A friend?” Her voice squeaks with anger and hurt and then anger again.
“You’re right. You’re more than a friend. I want you in a way that’s way past friendly,” I say, moving closer to her.
She snorts, one of her many amusing habits. “No doubt. Get in line,” she says.
I laugh. “No doubt. You’re a prize, Pink.”
“I’m no one’s prize,” she says with a lift of her chin.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Real cool, Cavanaugh. Way to win her over. She rolls her eyes. Yet again. And I deserve it yet again.
“Did I mention I’m focused on my new business? I’m not interested in romantic relationships right now.” She picks up her book and that sparks something like panic in me. I don’t want to lose her interest, however disdainful it may be, so I take her wrist to stop her from going anywhere.
“We have chemistry, Pink.” Holding her gaze, for a split second I see the hesitation, the acknowledgment of that spark between us. My body heats up until she yanks her arm away from me, shutting me down.
Ignoring my assertion, she says, “I think I’ll turn in early.” She lifts herself from the floor in a graceful ballerina glide and my mouth goes dry with disappointment.
Fuck.Get over yourself, Cavanaugh. A few s’mores doesn’t make up for being a dickhead the way I handled the phone call from Jillian. She takes the last bite of her cracker and picks up the plate, ready for clean-up duty like the good girl she is and heads to the kitchen area. I stand, shoving my hands through my hair.
“Look, don’t sleep in the guest room. You can have the master bedroom,” I say. I have a lot to make up for.
“With the puppies? No thank you,” she says. “I’ll never get a good night’s sleep with them and I need one.” She doesn’t addafter last night, but I hear it on her mind all the same.
