Page 28 of Boarded Hearts

“Oh, is it now?” I jest.

“Better believe it,” he shoots back.

“What did you do? Hire a private chef or something?” I pull up onto my tiptoes to get a better view of the kitchen over his shoulder.

Jon’s hands fly to his chest, clutching at his heart in mock hurt. “Private chef?” he exclaims. “No need for a chef when you possess these cooking skills.” He wiggles his fingers in front of him with a cheeky grin on his lips.

Yes, and I can imagine those hands aren’t just good for cooking either.

“Well, something certainly smells gorgeous.” The aroma making its way down the hallway toward me is delicious.

“Oh, it definitely does,” Jon smirks. “Come on, let’s go eat.” He waves at me over his shoulder as he walks into the kitchen. “I need to check on the beef.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JON

I’m so nervous.

My hands tremble as I open the oven door to check on the Beef Wellington I’ve spent the best part of the afternoon preparing.

When Felicity agreed to meet me tonight, I knew she’d be nervous to go out anywhere in public together, and the last thing I want to do is embarrass her or give her another reason not to see me again. I wasn’t sure I’d get her back in my apartment after she practically ran out of my home gym the last time she was here, and tonight, I want to get to know her. I want to try to make her feel at ease around me. But I can’t deny I’m nervous as hell. I know she doesn’t see this as a date. I know enough about Felicity to work out she doesn’t date someone unless she sees a possible future with him, and if I’m brutal in my assessment, I’m not sure she sees beyond the next hour in my company.

I don’t let that deter me though, because there’s something about this woman that keeps me on my toes. She couldn’t give a fuck who I am or how fat my bank balance is. Status and cash don’t impress her; she runs deeper than that. Trouble is, I don’t think she thinks that of me. I have a reputation as a good time, a one-night-only guy ready to rock your world and then send you on your way, and as I stand in my kitchen, watching her look at framed photos of my mom, Dad, Adam, and friends, I know my playboy days are actively working against me right now, and that’s everything I’ve always feared.

“How old were you in this?” Felicity asks as she holds up a photo of Adam and me at Disney World. I’m in a Mickey Mouse hat complete with ears, and Adam’s in a flowery Floridian shirt, both of us beaming at the camera on Main Street with the castle set behind us.

I was in my sophomore year of high school. “About fifteen. So, twenty years ago, jeez that’s a long time.” I chuckle. “We went on a family vacation and stayed on International Drive. Adam loved it.”

“Is Adam your brother?” Felicity asks, her eyes visibly warm.

I stand at the counter and begin chopping up potatoes. “He is; he’s three years younger than me.”

“Oh wow, he’s super handsome. His smile is so bright.” The apples of her cheeks turn a cute rosy pink. She’s so sweet and genuinely kind.

“Is that so? You netted the wrong brother then.” I’m joking around, but I can’t hide the slight twinge in my chest at the thought of her with someone, anyone else.

“Maybe. But Adam’s brother isn’t too bad, I suppose. Do you have any other siblings?”

“No, it’s just me and Adam. Mom and Dad decided the pair of us were enough to keep their hands full for a lifetime.” I smile at her as she replaces the picture and checks out one of the Scorpions prints from last season when we lifted the Stanley Cup for a second time. I don’t keep many hockey photos on display, especially with me in them, just a few in the hallway, but the look on Zach’s face in that shot is pure joy.“What about you?”

“Hmmm?” She seems engrossed in the photos but then shakes her head slowly, still staring at the frame. “Oh, no. It’s just me.” I don’t miss the slightly flat tone to her response, almost like there’s a story behind it, but I decide not to push.

“Can I get you a drink? Wine or a cocktail?” Did I go out and buy ingredients to make a Cosmo and then spend the afternoon studying how to make them? You best believe it.

“Oh, you mix cocktails, too? Is there any end to your talents?”

Heading toward the fridge I pull out the mixer and then fetch a martini glass from the cupboard above. Yes, I bought glasses too. I’ve had a busy day. I grab the vodka and triple sec and set everything on the side along with a lime for the glass.“I’d reserve judgment on my skills until you’ve tasted it.”

Felicity approaches the counter and sits on one of the high stools, which for her height and in a pencil skirt is impressive. From where I’m standing, I have a perfect shot of her cleavage, the top two buttons of her white blouse undone, and my dick twitches at the sight. Jesus, she’s something else. I swear I can see the edge of her white lacy bra, sitting against her flawless creamy skin. If she’s older than me, she sure as hell doesn’t look it. Her body and face are youthful, but her sunny personality also radiates from her. She’s totally out of my league in every way.

She scrunches her nose in confusion as I start filling the single martini glass from the shaker. “Aren’t you having one?”

“No, I don’t drink much during the season, just the odd beer.”

“So, you don’t drink cocktails?” she presses.

“No, it’s not really my thing, Angel.”

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