Page 109 of Lace 'em Up

Not like Phillip’s had squeezed.

“No, Ror,” he says. “It shouldn’t have.”

I take a breath, release it in a long, slow exhale.

And then I push that aside.

Forward.

Saving myself.

But not spitting on the help the people I love give me, not refusing to grab the life preserver.

I can find a balance?—

It’s all fake, man.

In some things.

“Thank you,” I whisper, eyes stinging.

His brows come up. “For what?”

And that dislodges King’s voice.

Because this man is impossible. A total silver fox with a body that’s more fit than most men my age (excluding a certain group of yummy hockey players who’ve recently been folded into my circle—or, rather, me into theirs). And more than being in shape, Jean-Michel exudes a certain…

Sex appeal.

There.

I said it—or thought it, anyway.

I shouldn’t have—said or thought.

But I did.

Because Jean-Michel has daddy vibes.

Gross, considering he’s a father figure and those vibes don’t do it for me, but…

I can’t deny it.

He’s a total hottie who deserves someone to love him.

It’s not something I’ve ever allowed myself to think before. I mean, how can I? Chrissy’s my friend and I was with Phillip and…

Still, I don’t miss that there’s something different about him today.

Like he was frozen solid behind a wall of ice, impenetrable and not exactly unfeeling, but also…

Not open at all.

But, for some reason, that ice has melted.

And he’s exposed to the world.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly.

---