Page 32 of Heartfelt Goals

And to his surprise, Laurel took a step toward him and leaned in near his throat, causing something to flicker in the back of his consciousness as she inhaled deeply and sighed.Oh man, that sigh was one for the record books,he thought and stared at her in awareness.

Her eyes were closed behind her glasses, her face peaceful, and her full lips parted like she was in heaven. If he could have stopped time, it would have been in that very moment, savoring it for a moment for a decade longer, just before she backed away and smiled softly.

“I like it,” she mumbled shyly, going back to cutting up the chicken.

“It stays,” he announced hoarsely, staring at the back of Laurel’s head where she stood facing the stove. Kendall was watching the two of them carefully and shook her head, frowning.

“I’m the thimble,” Kendall tried again to get a rise out of him – and that was when he realized it was working. Madeline’s suggestion was working, and things were starting to seem a little different between the trio.

“No problem – Laurel, what do you want to be in the game?”

“I’m the shoe.”

“Which means you’re the dog,” Kendall told him, arching an eyebrow and looking at him. “Especially since there are no septic tanks or toilets.”

“I could be the hat, and you could pretend it’s a toilet.”

Kendall rolled her eyes at him – and smiled.

“She cheated – didn’t she?”

Hours later, Dustin was lying on his bed in a T-shirt and shorts, his hands curled behind his head. He replayed the game in his mind as Laurel stepped into the bedroom nervously, shutting the door behind her.

“Shhh. She’ll hear you.”

“She’s upstairs.”

“Kendall has an uncanny ability to know exactly what is being said, done, written, or even thought. I think it's that magic-teenager-hormone that should be kicking in anytime now.”

“Newsflash – that girl is going to be ascaryteenager.”

“Dustin!” she hissed, chuckling. “Be nice. She’s pretty wonderful, and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not arguing about that,” he smiled, watching her move around the room curiously as she plucked a few things from her drawer and picked up her travel bag of toiletries, moving toward the bathroom. “It’s the hormones, the way her mind works, and the fearlessness that she has makes her wicked scary. That child is terrified of nothing.”

“She’s not,” she agreed, nodding. “And has no filter.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighed as she disappeared to change. He couldn’t help but listen to her moving around and then heard thewater running followed by the sounds of her brushing her teeth. Smiling, he could practically hear his sister’s giggling from so long ago at one of their sleepovers and closed his eyes.

This was going to be okay.

They could take their time, develop a friendship that would last forever, and maybe someday, they could eventually find themselves getting closer. It was a good thing he was in no hurry because right now, he needed to focus on hockey, stretching, and how he was going to handle practicing with that arrogant little twerp, Matthieu Larsson.

He met him yesterday and the man was practically fresh out of college, the youngest on the team, and thought he was hot stuff. Unfortunately, when compared to his own stiff movements – Matthieu probably was…

The bathroom door creaked open, and Dustin felt the air hitch in his throat as all conscious thought froze in that split second.

Laurel stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, wearing his old Coyotes team shirt. His number was emblazoned across the front, the fabric slightly oversized on her slender frame, hanging just a little too perfectly against her curves. Paired with green-and-black plaid flannel pajama pants, she should have looked cozy, comfortable… and completely innocent.

Instead, she looked like every dream he’d ever had and never admitted.His fingers curled painfully at his sides, his palms itching with the desperate urge to unravel the thick braid draped over her shoulder and to run his fingers through the silken strands until they tumbled free.She shifted hesitantly, her hands brushing against the hem of the shirt as if she suddenly felt self-conscious.

“Hey…” he rasped, his voice betraying him.

“I hope this is okay,” she murmured, hovering in the doorway. “I wanted to be covered up, and I didn’t think a chemise…”

Dustin’s stomach clenched.

His brain short-circuited.

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