Page 18 of Love You Too

“No, very not interesting.”

“Matter of opinion. Clearly, you’ve trained the algorithm.”

“What?”

“You know. These apps have sophisticated computer programs behind them to learn what you like and show you more of it. Lemme guess. In addition to hockey players, you also get a lot of cat videos?”

“Why, because I’m a single woman? I must be a cat lady?”

I shrug. “Fine. Dog videos?”

“If you must know…penguins.”

“Penguins? Any particular reason?”

“They’re cute.” She rolls to the side to retrieve her phone, and I take in the smooth skin of her back, where it tapers to a narrow waist… I’m about to take a bite from her ass cheek when she rolls back with her phone, fingers typing and swiping. She hands it to me. “Look at them. The way they walk…”

I lean over her shoulder to watch the video, taking the opportunity to inhale the scent of her skin. I don’t like the idea of being one and done with her. The feisty, confident, straight-talking woman she’s become is even sexier to me than the woman I used to know. I want to give her confidence to let me in, to let me see beneath the polished exterior like she just did. Only I want it for more than one afternoon. But balancing love and hockey is not something I’ve learned how to do.

So it may be one and done for her, but I’m not giving up. I’ll just play the long game.

I run a hand down the curve of her waist and let it settle on the swell of her hip, rubbing my thumb back and forth on hersoft skin. She’s damn near perfect, even more stunning than she was ten years earlier, and I’d been transfixed by her then.

This feels good. Too good. When I signed with the Otters, I hoped it might lead to an eventual reconnection with Beatrix, but I never imagined having her in my bed after a chance meeting. I don’t want to blow this opportunity with her, but I’m not even sure it’s an opportunity

As I roll to the side and stroke Beatrix’s long hair splayed out on my pillow, I replay the unsatisfying versions of relationships I’ve had over the years. I never wanted the women I dated to linger in my bed, and I always made it clear that I was committed to one love—hockey.

For the past ten years, when the clock strikes six in the morning, I’m back in training, completely focused. I’ve never let a woman get in the way of that. I came too close to tanking my entire future over love, and I’ve been scared straight ever since. That was ten years ago.

Same woman, new circumstances.

I have no idea if I can do better by her without endangering everything I’ve worked for on the ice, but spending a mere few hours with her has me interested in the possibility. Not that she’s offering.

Beatrix rolls off the bed and pads to my bathroom, grabbing her clothes from the floor on the way. Clearly, she hasn’t changed her mind—she doesn’t plan to linger here.

A few minutes later, I hear the toilet flush and Beatrix emerges, fully dressed. I’m covered in bedsheets from the waist down, sitting up against a few pillows, hands behind my head. I’m not about to ruin the sweet memory of the past hour by dissecting it.

Truman starts scratching at the door, and she glances toward the sound. “Should I let him in?”

“Please.”

She opens the door, and my dog comes bounding into the room and jumps on the bed.

“I can see why you didn’t invite him in earlier,” she says.

“Yeah, not as much fun as a threesome.”

She nods, subdued, maybe even…relaxed?

“This was good,” she says.

“Glad you got what you needed.” On one hand, I’m relieved that even after ten years, we can fall back into familiarity. On the other, it feels like we’re just two ships that happened to pass in Oxbow Market, and she seems content for us to sail along in opposite directions. Why wouldn’t she be?

“Okay, well, don’t get up. I can show myself out.”

She starts for the door, but I call her back. She turns, and I beckon her closer with a finger. Looking over her shoulder like I might be indicating someone other than her, she creeps closer to me.

“I had a really nice time, Trix. Thanks for trusting me enough to relax.”

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