Page 13 of Pucks and Coffee

“Would you judge me if I said yes?” I ask, peeking up at him from beneath my lashes.

“I’d be offended if you said no.”

My face breaks into a grin. “Yes, please.”

As we dig in, I ask, “Do you still play for the Knoxville Bears?” I know he does, but he hasn’t brought it up yet.

“Yup. I had practice this morning.”

“How’s that going?”

He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Good. I didn’t think I would ever get a chance like this, so I’m truly blessed.”

“You didn’t play in college?”

“Not for UT or anything, but I played for the club team at the local rink. I grew up playing, but my parents weren’t supportive.”

“No? Why not?”

“Too consumed with each other, I guess,” he admits. “They had a pretty bad marriage, very selfish, and I wasn’t a priority.”

I wasn’t expecting that, especially since I grew up almost the same—just add a cult following to his story, and that’s mine. “I think my parents loved each other, but I wouldn’t know. My sister Louisa raised me, and when I got older, I helped raise the younger ones.”

We share a look of sympathy for our shitty childhoods. “It’s good you had your sisters.”

“It is,” I agree, though he has no earthly idea how true that statement is.

“Are your parents in your life?”

I shake my head. “My dad died when I was like eleven, and I don’t talk to my mother.”

“I don’t talk to my mom either. She lives out west somewhere. I don’t even know.”

“I don’t know where mine is either,” I admit with a small grimace. Not that I want to know where my mother is, but don’t we sound like two pitiful losers. “This is depressing,” I say with a forced laugh. “Tell me how you manage playing hockey and running this place, while also enjoying being chased by imaginary bears?”

He laughs at that, the sound so deep and throaty, I have to squeeze my thighs together to keep my pussy at bay. She’s a horny thing. “It’s a lot, but I manage. I have a good crew here.”

“That’s good. Louisa has been traveling to Nashville a lot for Ciaran, so I’ve been managing the bookshop more than I care to.”

“Do you not like the shop?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I love it, but it’s not mine. All my sisters have their thing, and I have nothing.”

He thinks for a moment, and then he nods. “You want your coffee spot to be your thing?”

“I do,” I say eagerly. “I love coffee, and it goes so great with books. It’s a no-brainer for me.”

He licks his lips. “People come here first before heading to y’all.”

The way he says y’all is all kinds of country sexy. It’s a twang I didn’t realize he had, but damn if I don’t like it. A lot. I swallow hard as he slides across the booth. Before he gets up, though, he grabs the bottle of wine. “Want a refill?”

“Yes, please.” He hesitates again, and then he shakes his head. I cock my head. “What’s wrong?”

“What?” he asks, meeting my gaze.

“You made a face and shook your head. You did it earlier too.”

His cheeks turn pink, and his jaw goes taut before he looks from where he is pouring my wine to me. “I like the way you say please.”

---