Page 22 of Home Ice

"Barrie. My parents thought it was cute to name us that."

My brain is apparently not working because I've obviously missed an entire section of conversation. "Name you what?"

"Sorry. You're American. After towns. We grew up in Ontario. Barrie and Brant are... well, anytime I complained about my name, they told me I should consider myself lucky they didn't name me Guelph. I always assumed they were kidding, but one time Dad seemed kind of wistful when he said it, so I never brought it up again." He stops at the edge of the living room and looks around. "You haven't added anything."

I catch myself staring at him, but staring is not a good idea. He's wearing a white hoodie that's open in the front over a black tee and a pair of grey sweatpants that ride low on his hips and have a drawstring that is doing everything it can to draw my eye down. But I'm an adult woman, and I won't be tempted to look at a man's?—

"Are you humming the Fa La La song?"

"What? No. Maybe?"

"Do you always sing Christmas songs three months before the holidays? Would you like me to join you in a duet of Silent Night? Or I could have my mom send me my old clarinet, and I could accompany you."

I snort. "You played clarinet?"

He nods. "Until grade ten. Then I was too busy with hockey." Brant Morrison playing the clarinet? One-hundred percent not sending completely unsolicited high voltage waves through me. "But we're here to train, not to talk about what an adorable child I was—very adorable, by the way. So go change."

"Brant, I really appreciate what you did for me. So much. You have no idea how much. But you don't want me to do this charity thing with you. We both know that, so let's figure out some other way for me to pay you back."

His eyes don't move from mine for the longest time, but then he nods and relief rolls through me. "Yep, definitely partnering with you. I'll be waiting out front. Be sure to put on some runners, and..." His words trail off as he looks down at my chest. My arms are still crossed, and I realize now that it's been forcing my breasts up even higher. Oh my god. "Anyway, I'll be outside."

I stand motionless, gaping at his back, as he closes the front door behind him. He doesn't even look back to see my reaction. He just expects me to follow him. It must be nice to be so privileged you just know people will do what you want them to. As soon as I think it, though, I know it's not true. I've watched him in practices, and he's one of the least entitled players on the team. Kayden Bouchard is a different story. He struts around the ice like he owns it. But I've seen the way Brant acts around the others, the way he guides them. They look up to him like he's an older brother. I'm jealous I never had someone like that in my life.

Brant is sitting on the edge of the porch when I walk outside. "I guess I don't have any patio furniture out here," I say. "Sorry."

Brant stands. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but he blows out a breath instead. "Is it rude to say you look good in that shirt?"

I look down at the lilac tank top I pulled on. I have a few different workout tops that I alternate for my runs, but this one has always been my favorite. "Way less rude than waking someone on her day off."

I expect him to apologize or seem embarrassed, but he doesn't. "I knew you would come out." He grins, and I roll my eyes. He's way too sure of himself for this early in the morning.

"You didn't give me much choice."

"It's your house. You could have locked the door behind me and gone back to bed."

I wouldn't have dared trying to go back to bed after opening my door to him. That would lead to me opening the drawer in my bedside table and doing something I absolutely do not want to do while thinking of him. Not any more than I already have. "It's not my house. And I need to go for a run sometime today, so why not get it over with?"

"Nothing better than a run with good company, right?" he winks. I would roll my eyes again, but I get the feeling I'll be doing it so often around him this morning that I could exhaust my eye muscles. I need to save them for when I really need them.

"You're about to find out." I wink back, but he laughs. "Are you saying I'm not good company?"

"Not at all. It's just, I don't think I've ever heard you make a joke."

I pretend to be offended just to see the look on his face, and it doesn't disappoint. "I'll have you know that I'm a very funny person. When I'm around the right people."

"I'm not the right people?"

I roll a shoulder. "You're not doing too well so far this morning."

He looks puzzled for a second, and it might be one of the most adorable things I've ever seen. He tilts his head to the side the same way a confused puppy would. I don't want to smile, but I can't help it. "You really don't like mornings, do you?" he asks.

"It's not that. You asked if it would be rude to tell me how good I look in this top."

"I'm so sorry." He looks horrified. "I swear I'm not normally like this, but I have this way of putting my foot in my mouth when I'm around you and?—"

"You asked if you could say it, but you never did. I'm waiting."

He chuckles as he backs away. "You do. You look very good in that tank top." Before I can say thank you, he turns away and starts jogging. "Now, try to keep up," he calls over his shoulder as I hurry down the steps to catch him.

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