Page 15 of Owning Eva

“Uh-huh.” She gives me a knowing look. “You might wanna tell your face that.”

I ignore her, focusing instead on the food. But even as I load my plate, I can feel his burning eyes following me.

Thirteen

Eva

The next morning, I wake up feeling like my body is made of static electricity. My lips tingle, my pulse feels too quick, and the memory of Eli’s kiss keeps replaying in my head like a summer hit song.

“Focus, Eva,” I mutter, dragging myself out of bed. Today, I’m going to be productive. No hot hockey player, no distractions, just words on the page.

Except the universe—and Emily—have other plans.

* * *

I barely make it to the lodge café when Emily materializes out of nowhere, dragging me to a of table where Liam and a few other players are sitting.

“Em, I was just—”

“No excuses,” she cuts me off, pushing me into an empty seat. “It’s brunch. You love brunch.”

I do love brunch, but not when Eli Jackson is sitting directly across from me, his dark eyes making my stomach flip.

“Morning,” he says in his usual deep voice but his tone is laced with something that feels far too intimate for a public setting.

“Morning,” I manage, sitting down and avoiding his gaze like it might burn me alive.

The conversation around the table is lively—everyone teasing each other and cracking jokes—but I can barely focus. Every time Eli shifts in his chair or brushes his fingers along the edge of his mug, my heart skips. I imagine his big, strong hands all over my skin. Lord.

Fourteen

Eli

Russo:Yo Blizz, they’re all dragging ass to brunch. You coming?

Me:Maybe.

Russo:Better hurry. Carter’s here. She’s looking good, man. You’re welcome.

Asshole. I shove my phone into my pocket and adjust my coat, heading for the fire pit where everyone’s gathered.

The setup is perfect—steam rising from plates piled high with delicious looking food, chairs draped with blankets, laughter spilling from the group sitting around the fire.

And there’s my girl.

Eva stands, bundled in a thick coat that does nothing to hide the curves I haven’t stopped thinking about. Her cheeks are a bit pink from the cold, her dark eyes sparking with something that pulls me like gravity. She’s talking to one of the wives, herhand wrapped around a steaming mug, her lips moving as she gestures. Fucking breathtaking.

I stop in my tracks, the air knocked out of me.

Russo, the little shit, elbows me as he walks past. “Don’t stare too hard, man. She might think you’re a creep.”

“Fuck off, dumbass,” I growl, unable to pull my eyes away from her.

I grab a plate and settle into a chair, keeping Eva in my line of sight.

Her laugh cuts through the air and it’s fucking addictive. When her eyes flick to mine, my pulse slams against my ribs. She looks away quickly, but I catchthe way her fingers tighten around her mug, the way her lips press together like she’s trying to suppress a smile that’s just for me.

* * *

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