Page 20 of Slap Shots & Sweethearts

"Totally okay with it, even if it is of the devil."

He pats the spot on the couch next to him. "Sounds like a story."

I sit down by him. Not close enough to touch, but the couch isn't that big. Between my extra curves and his hunky hockey muscles, we are close enough I can smell his aftershave. He smells of plum, and amber, and a day at sea. He half turns on the couch, one leg down and his other one is half bent so he's facing me without the need to turn his neck. The move has shifted him closer to me, and that spot where I can almost feel his leg by mine, feels akin to a spark waiting to zap me.

An apt reminder that I'll be burned if I test that spark. I have no doubt someone at the arena noticed Lou and Matt leaving with me. Who knows who saw Matt taking my car? After taking a moment to settle into the armrest on my side of the couch, I've managed to put a tiny bit more space between us.

Matt leans towards me and places one arm on the back of the couch. "Tell me, who hates pineapple that much?"

I laugh and spill the story of the guy at the pizza pub. For the next half hour we end up trying to one-up each other with the worst dates we've been on. I'm pretty sure I'm winning with a story of the guy who took me to a movie and proceeded to talk the whole time. Not to mention that he made me buy my own popcorn and then put it in the empty seat on the other side of him because I didn't need to be tempted by all the extra calories from the butter.

"Well you'll love the oil lady I met last night," Matt tells me. "She gave me her business card and everything when she asked me to join her sales team."

"A pyramid scheme, really?" I ask him.

He nods. "If you think about it, the speed dating thing means they have to perfect their sales pitch so it can be delivered in a short amount of time."

"That's a brutal way to launch it."

"It probably only takes one for it to be worth the effort. And with the stack of business cards, I wouldn't be surprised if she gets sales from people deciding to purchase something."

I shake my head, then lean back so my head rests on the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. "How do you know so much about MLMs?"

"My dad joined a lot of them when I was growing up. He was convinced that each one was the ticket to retirement."

I turn my head to look at him and find his hand is close to one of my stray curls. His hand moves closer, until his little finger is close enough to touch my hair. He moves so slowly, I could stop him if I wanted to, but I don't. Instead, I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, as I wait for him to make the next move.

I watch as he gently wraps that curl around his finger, and then untwirls it.

We're silent, Matt's hand moves a little further into my hair, and I can feel the tension crackling between us. His touch is tentative as if he's afraid to break the fragile spell that binds us together.

His fingers brush against the soft strands of my hair, sending shivers down my spine. I close my eyes, savoring the sensation, as he delicately wraps that stray curl around his finger once more. The world around us fades away. No Lou, no hockey, just two people having a moment as they wait for pizza.

I can feel the heat of his gaze on me, intense and searching as if he's trying to unravel some mystery hidden within my soul. Jokes on him, I wear my heart on my sleeve. He could have it if he wanted to.

For a moment, time stands still as we linger on the edge of something, something electric and charged with possibility. There's an unspoken question lingering in the air between us, begging to be answered. Will we take the leap and cross the invisible boundary that separates us, or will we remain trapped in this impasse?

I open my eyes, meeting his gaze with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, silently daring him to move toward me.

And then, he looks at my lips and leans forward.

Chapter 7

Matt

Aknock on her door startles us both and Hannah jumps away from me. It stings, and I have to remind myself that she doesn't want anything to do with me beyond work.

To hide the sting of her rejection I leave the couch to answer it. The pizza delivery guy looks like he's still in high school.

"Holy Hockey!" The guy says, "You're my hero man."

"Thanks."

"Can I get a selfie? My little bro will go nuts. He's been a fan ever since you visited St.—"

I jump in to cut him off. There are some things I don't want to be used as a publicity stunt. Which is exactly what it would be if the big boss at the arena found out. "Do you need me to sign something?"

His excitement deflates like a tire that's run over a railroad spike, he pulls out the receipt for me to sign. I do, and then I reach for my wallet and pull out cash for his tip as well as one of the trading cards I keep in there. It's better than a napkin, I sign the card with my face on it and hand it over with the cash.

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