Page 44 of The Game Changer

I nod. “He can be a very bossy bitch.”

This gets an instant laugh out of her, and damn if it doesn’t make me feel like a fucking king.

“You wanted to come in,” Asher argues, then turns to me. “I could tell she wanted to.” Shedding his coat, he offers to take hers as well.

She mumbles her thanks while he hangs up her jacket and steals the beanie off her head.

“Oh.” She reaches up to smooth down those vibrant locks, and I can’t help grinning at her.

The urge to find me some booty at Offside has disappeared for some reason.

That should be a fucking red flag right there, but I ignore it and head into the kitchen. “You want a drink or something?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Have you had your coffee for the day?” I smirk at her.

“Yes.” She tips her head back with a groan, and I stare at the smooth skin on her neck, wanting to run the tip of my tongue from her collarbone to her chin.

My insides sizzle, and I force Mr. Jones to behave himself, turning away and practically croaking out my next question. “How about a hot chocolate, then?”

“Sounds good.”

I glance back in time to see her lips curl into a smile, but something is definitely off. She’s looking tired and unsettled.

I want to make her feel better, but I’m not really sure how. What can I say to make her laugh again?

Or maybe I should ask her “Is something wrong?” But will that just open a big-ass can of worms that I won’t know how to deal with?

I spin and focus on the boiling water in the kettle while she inches into the kitchen and starts studying the photos on the fridge.

“Oh, that’s from last year.” I stand behind her and point to a picture of all the guys lifting their beers in celebration. Fuck, she smells good. I want to bury my nose in her hair and inhale like she’s a line of cocaine.

She swivels her head, catching my eye as she taps her finger on the photo. “Look at your face.” She laughs at my crazy expression.

“Hey, we’d just won an important game. I have a right to look batshit crazy. I was insanely happy.”

She laughs again, the sound cheerful and bright. But then the sound fizzles out and I’m suddenly aware that I’m still standing right behind her, close enough to feel her heat. Her gaze darts away from my eyes, landing on my mouth as a wispy breath rushes out of her. She swallows and shuffles back from me, tucking her hair behind her ear with a twitchy smile.

“So, I heard you won this weekend too. Congratulations. The playoffs. That’s big.”

Good. Yeah, space. We need space. Because whatever is happening between us right now is fucking electrifying.

I inch back toward the kettle, my brain cells coming back online with a little distance. Spinning around, I face her with a wide grin.

“It’s huge, baby.” I lift my hands in the air and whoop so loud that she actually jumps.

But it makes her smile come back full force, and fuck, she’s so beautiful.

And making her smile that way feels like the biggest win.

As soon as the hot chocolates are done, I pass one to her and then Asher. He takes a seat on the armchair adjacent to me, and we talk about the away games. Caroline asks all the right questions and shows off how much she loves and understands hockey. It makes it easy to talk, not having to explain hockey speak. She gets it. She gets us, and reliving the games with her is triumphant.

She’s stoked too. Whatever was pulling her down when she first arrived seems to have lifted, and I like watching her relax.

Once game talk’s done, there’s a weird lull in the conversation. I should start asking her some things about herself. You know, the whole “she’s carrying my kid” thing, so I should probably know her favorite color, but then she points at the controllers on the coffee table.

“Who plays?” She glances between Asher and me.

---