Page 13 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

“Oh! Wow. That sounds fun.”

I nod, and we lapse into silence again. I rub my hands down my thighs, trying to come up with some way to draw her out, but I’ve got nothing.

Brunch is going to be long and painful if we don’t find something to talk about soon. Part of me wants to bail, but that would be unbearably rude. And I also want to see if I can find the woman I met last night buried under the layers of shyness she’s giving me this morning.

I liked that woman, and I want to hang out with her again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Anna

Shit shit shit shit shit!

I’m completely ruining this by being myself.

This is the perfect example of why I need to change. How am I ever going to connect to anyone if I can’t even carry a conversation with an attractive man who’s clearly interested in me?

How did I manage to talk to Jared enough that we ended up dating?

I think back to when he and I first got together. But that was easier because we had a class together, he invited me to study together, and one thing led to another. The truth is, though, I honestly didn’t realize he was interested in me until he walked me back to my room and kissed me goodnight after our second study session. Well, study date as it turns out.

Troy, though …

I know enough now to realize he wouldn’t be here if he just wanted to be friends. And the way he was looking at me last night …

I can tell Troy is interested, which is part of the reason I’m acting like such a weirdo right now. I’m so flustered that I’m clamming up and can’t think of anything to say at all!

Common ground, I think. I need to find common ground. What do we have in common?

He’s a newly retired professional hockey player, and I manage a dental office. Nothing there. Umm …

He’s looking around, rubbing his thighs, and I’m worried he’s going to decide this is too awkward. That I’m too awkward. He wouldn’t be the first, and I’m sure he won’t be the last, but after just deciding I’m going to stop pushing people away with my awkwardness, it’s too much. I have to do something!

Say something! I command myself. Anything!

“So, uh … brunch.” Oh. My. God. I can’t.

My hand finds my face, covering it as I shake my head in disgust at my inability to behave like a sociable adult.

What is wrong with me? Why am I like this?

I have no problem with people I know. Last night with Brit wasn’t bad, even before I got drinks.

The difference is that there were more people, so my being quiet wasn’t such a big deal. I wasn’t responsible for helping carry the conversation. There were plenty of people able—and more suited—to do that.

Troy chuckles, but his body relaxes, leaning fractionally closer to me. “Are you a frequent brunch eater?”

I shake my head, forcing myself to open my mouth and say more words. “No. I eat breakfast, but not usually in restaurants.”

He stretches his arm out along the bench behind me. “Same. I do like a good restaurant breakfast, though. Or brunch. But it’s an infrequent treat for me. This place is known for their stuffed French toast, you said?”

I nod, risking a glance in his direction. His blue eyes sparkle with mirth, but not in a mean way. Like he’s enjoying finding out my breakfast habits and doesn’t think this topic of conversation is too weird. Or weird at all. Or if he does, he’s happy to roll with it.

That realization helps me relax, some of the tension leaving my shoulders, and I’m able to stop clutching the strap of my purse. The door to the restaurant opens, and I glance at it hopefully, but it’s just someone leaving—a family with two elementary-aged kids. Though that’s possibly a good sign. If they’ve freed up a table, maybe the next time the door opens, it’ll be the hostess calling my name.

“Yes,” I murmur absently. Then I blink, turning to face him again. Smile, I command myself. Like you’re enjoying his company. My lips manage a slight curve, and he returns the expression with a generous smile of his own. “I hear there are a couple options. You can have the more savory one where it’s stuffed with eggs and sausage, though I’m pretty sure it’s still topped with maple syrup. Or they have a mixed berry option covered in berry syrup and whipped cream.”

“Oooh, that’s going to be a tough choice,” he says, squinting at me. “Of course, if they go that nuts with just their French toast, who knows what other delights their menu holds?”

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