Page 30 of The Kiss Class

I chuckle. “Are you saying I’m dumb?”

She waves her hands. “No, nothing like that. But I’ve now seen the types of women you usually date. I’m not like them.”

Does she mean she’s more gorgeous? Gorgeouser? Cara’sphysique is alluring. Her eyes are captivating. Her nose, adorable. Her lips, irresistible.

“The internet would beg to differ. The photos were pretty—” I make an explosion gesture.

As if trying to talk herself out of something, she says, “We’re too different. Opposites.”

I counter, “Maybe that’s what would make it work.”

“Don’t try your charms on me, mister.” She pokes me in the abs and springs back.

It tickles and sends a surge straight to my head, giving me a rush. I rock on my heels and can’t help but chuckle again. “Speaking of paper, what were you doing?”

“I’m in a graduate program to become a concept artist for video game design. My homework over break is to sketch live action.” She claps her hand over her mouth. Eyes wide, she says, “You did not hear a word of what I just said.”

“About you not studying law?” I quickly piece together that what her father thinks she’s getting a degree in and what she’s doing out in Los Angeles are two different things.

“I’ve been a student all my life, following expectations, what my family and peers thought I ought to do, become a doctor, a historian, a lawyer . . . I’m good with information, but it’s not what I enjoy.” Her voice is tiny when she adds that last part.

“Not so innocent after all.” My voice is a little husky.

She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Apparently not.”

This brings to mind the fabrication we devised earlier. “Thanks for covering for me. You didn’t have to. I’m a big boy. I would’ve dealt with the repercussions.”

“Have you met my father?”

“In fact, I’ve been in his office every day for a month straight.”

“I’m shocked you’re stillon the team.”

“I’d agree, but I’m an exceptional defenseman.” My mother would wash the smug smile off my face.

“Don’t be modest or anything.”

“Never am.”

“Nope. Not last night, but also thank you for rescuing me from Chard,” she says, eyes twinkling.

Cara and I might be different, but the seriousness mirrored in our expressions cracks ever so slightly. “To be clear, I didn’t know who you were. Certainly not my coach’s daughter. Believe it or not, I do have rules. Some boundaries. That isn’t one I would’ve crossed.” Never mind the fact that by some undeserved blessing, this should have been a career penalty.

“My father knows I’d never date a hockey player.”

“Why’s that? Too much brawn? Not enough brain?” I tap my temple.

“No, nothing like that.” Her shoulder lifts, and she gazes at the ground. I know the look. Someone hurt her.

Fire burns inside. Loser Billy Wagner had his way with my sister before he ditched her. Not that I think of Cara as a sister, but I’m upfront about my intentions. No attachments. No commitment. The puck bunnies know this and they’d agree to it. Except Cecilia.

Grinding my teeth, I ask Cara, “Who was it? Would I know him? I’ll take my stick and?—”

“Ricky never went beyond the AHL and is now behind a desk in Lincoln, probably hating himself.”

“Sounds like that’s what he deserves.”

She puffs her cheeks on an exhale as if that’s still a sore spot. “Definitely.”

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