Page 6 of Fear of Falling

“Wow, some pretty confident kids.”

“Clearly,” she laughed, the sound soothing to my ears. Her laugh was nothing like high squeaky giggles I was used to from women. It was husky—and incredibly sexy.

“So, how about you?” she asked, snapping me to attention. “How was your day? Get hit on by any underage kids?”

“Can’t say that I did,” I shook my head, still grinning.

Do I tell her who I am, or not?

Who knows how long we’d be stuck together in the enclosed space of the elevator. I knew I couldn’t hide my face the whole time—not without coming across as a complete weirdo.

Scratching at my jaw, I sighed.

Best get it over with.

For a moment, I felt self-conscious as I reached up and took off my baseball cap. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair before I turned to face her.

I stayed silent, shoulders tense, as Josie got her first proper look at me. I tried not to fidget as I watched her eyes travel over my face, her lips parting slightly. It was strange—while I braced myself for the inevitable gasp and squeal of‘oh my gosh you’reWyatt Boone!’, I found myself hoping she would be different. It seemed that every woman I met was either a puck bunny, or a hockey expert, or just excited to see me in person instead of on city billboards or magazine covers. Just once, I wanted to beseen.

So, I silently counted down as I waited for her reaction.

4

JOSIE

Alight stubble shadowed Wyatt’s jaw, like he’d skipped shaving this morning. His nose was a bit crooked, no doubt the result of several hockey-related breaks and his brown hair was tousled, the ends curled. What really drew me in were his eyes. Baby blues framed by luscious eyelashes held my steadfast gaze.

Of course I’d seen his image over the years; television commercials, magazines—his face was everywhere. He even laid claim to the title of Toronto’s Sexist Man Alive. You’d have to be living under a rock to not know who he is. Yet, none of those did him justice. He was more attractive in person. Which was truly unfair, in my opinion.

When I failed to say anything, he spoke, sounding a bit curt and tense.

“Do you know who I am?”

For a moment I wasn’t sure if the way he sat there, with his shoulders set and his arms folded, was arrogance. That he was used to women throwing themselves at him and expected the same from me. Or, that he hoped I wouldn’t. I found him surprisingly hard to read. The last thing I was going to do wasfawn all over him. It took more than amazing sports skills and good looks to make a girl's panties drop. This girl’s at least.

As he cleared his throat, I realized I still hadn’t answered him. “Of course I know who you are. I’m from Toronto.” I raised my eyebrows at him. Thanks to my dad, I’ve always been an avid hockey fan. The two of us had spent many hours together watching everyKnightsgame.It was our thing. Even if you weren’t a hockey fan, it would be hard not to know who Wyatt Boone was.

Ever since entering the League at just 19, one of the youngest to do so, he’d been a big deal. A first-round pick with the Knights, he led the team to the semi-finals of the Cup Championship the first year. It was a huge deal.

“And?” His shoulders were so hunched they were almost up to his ears.

“And? Is this the part where I’m supposed to scream and throw my underwear at you?” I asked, genuinely wanting to know. He was acting like I was seconds away from launching myself at him. “I knew who you were the moment you sat down,” I admitted.

“The cap wasn’t much of a cover, huh?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Your bag has the Toronto Knights logo, and you introduced yourself as Wyatt. Not hard to put two and two together,” I pointed out with a shrug. I swore I saw his cheeks flush as he looked down at his gym bag.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting for you to say something,” I confessed. “At least now you can keep your cap out of your eyes.”

“You seem really…chill about it,” he sounded a little disappointed which made me chuckle.

“Sorry to disappoint. Do you want me to throw myself at you? I will if you want,” I grinned.

Finally, he smiled, and I felt my heart flutter. “No, that’s okay.” Yet, he kept looking at me like he was still waiting for me to freak out. Watching him look so uncomfortable was amusing, but I decided to put him out of his misery.

“It is kind of insane that I’m stuck in an elevator with Wyatt Boone. But I’m not going to go all batshit crazy on you, I promise.” I gave him a small smile, hoping he knew I was serious.

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