Page 12 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

She looks down at her cereal. “Invite your friend here, then.”

“Yeah, Uncle Troy,” Nick chimes in, grinning and setting Noah on a booster seat at the table, his own bowl of cereal in front of him. “Invite your friend here for cereal with the munchkins.”

I glare at him, which only makes him laugh. “Maybe another time,” I growl. “Gotta go.”

“Is this your friend from last night?” he calls after me.

He’s lucky his kids are in the room, otherwise I’d be flipping him off. Instead, I just wave, grab my keys, and leave.

I manage to make it to the restaurant on time, but parking is a nightmare. Saturday in a tiny town during their high season? I guess I should’ve known better …

As it is, by the time I find a parking spot, I’m already late, and I still have to walk about five blocks.

I shoot a quick text to Anna letting her know I had trouble finding parking and will be there soon.

When I get to the restaurant, she’s outside sitting on a park bench, nose buried in a book, wearing a pretty floral skirt and a tank top, her legs crossed and one flip-flop dangling from her toes.

Just like last night, she’s adorable. When she reaches up to push her rimless glasses up her nose, I’m toast.

I don’t know what it is about that gesture, but it does something to me in weird ways. Or maybe it’s that combined with her unassuming personality, dry humor that was in evidence last night, and her practical, down-to-earth style that suits her body perfectly. She’s the poster model for girl-next-door, what-you-see-is-what-you-get style, and I think it’s perfect.

When I stop in front of her, she glances up, then starts in surprise. Plucking a scrap of paper from her book, she uses it to mark her place and tucks the book into her purse. A shy smile claims her features as she stands, clearing her throat, and offering me her hand to shake. “Hi,” she practically squeaks.

As I accept her handshake, my grin goes lopsided as I fight to keep it from becoming too large. Her shyness seems at odds with the fact that she invited me out this morning. “Hi,” I return.

She gives my hand a quick squeeze before dropping it, hitching her purse on her shoulder, and looking toward the restaurant. “I put my name on the list.” Lifting a hand, she gestures at the door, then squints up at me again. “There’s a bit of a wait, though. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. We can sit on the bench while we wait.”

With a nod, she settles back into her seat, and I sit next to her, watching as she places her purse in her lap, fidgets with the strap, then adjusts its position.

Unable to help myself, I lean in close and lower my voice. “Are you nervous?”

She lets out a high-pitched laugh, quick and staccato, then covers her mouth with her hand like she can’t believe she just made that sound. Her brown eyes almost frantic, she stares at me wide-eyed and nods.

Chuckling, I shift, giving her an extra half inch of space, hoping that’ll make her feel better. “How come? I thought we had a nice time last night.”

Her shoulders slump, and she drops her hand back into her lap, fidgeting with the strap of her purse some more. “Oh, yes. It was lovely. Which is why I asked you out for brunch today. But while it seemed like a great idea in theory …”

My eyebrows arch. “The reality is underwhelming?” I feign pain, clutching at my chest. “Ouch, Anna. That stings.”

She giggles, this time sounding more natural and less frenetic, and shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. The reality is more …” She spreads her hands, looking a little helpless. “Real, I guess. That sounds dumb.”

“No,” I rush to assure her. “It doesn’t. I get what you mean.” Because the reality of her, of being here, feels a lot different than the idea for me too.

I don’t know if last night was easier because of the alcohol or because rescuing her gave me an in, but today we’re sitting in awkward silence, stealing glances at each other and looking away as soon as we inadvertently make eye contact. She was loose and easy to talk to last night, and now she feels locked inside herself, and I don’t know how to bridge the gap between us, so I’m withdrawing too.

Clearing my throat, I decide that I’m going to have to be the one to get things rolling. Part of me wants to ask why she invited me to brunch if she can’t bring herself to talk to me, but I worry that would embarrass her and make the situation worse.

Casting about, I go with the safest question I can think of. “How’s your morning been?”

She blinks up at me. “Umm … good?”

I grin. “You don’t sound too certain of that.”

Her cheeks turn pink, but she smiles, pushing her glasses up again. “It was good. Just uneventful until …” She spreads her hands in front of her, indicating our presence here. “What about you?”

“Mine was good. My friend Nick, you met him and his wife Tina last night”—she nods, and I continue—“his two kids are here too, plus their nanny, Lisa. Nick and I took the kids for a swim first thing. They’re fun, but they’re squirrelly and full of energy, so even with extra adults, it’s a full-time job wearing them out every day.”

---