Page 70 of Never Your Girl

He flashes a slow grin that arrows to the heart of me before exploding on impact.

I don’t like it.

I don’t like what he does to me.

And I certainly don’t like the sensations running rampant beneath my skin, trying to claw their way to the surface.

It’s dangerous.

We need to steer this conversation to safer terrain.

“So,” I say, folding my arms on the table. “What’s the story with this place? Sentimental favorite, or do you bring all your fake girlfriends here?”

His smirk deepens. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Not really.”

Maybe.

His eyes narrow. “Liar.”

The banter flows easily between us, like it’s second nature, and I hate how much I enjoy it. The guy definitely keeps me on my toes.

Before I can come up with a biting response, a small voice interrupts.

“Excuse me?”

We both turn to see a little boy standing at the edge of our booth. He can’t be older than nine, and his face is lit up like Christmas morning. The waitress drops off two glasses of water before beelining to another table.

“Are you Bridger Sanderson?” he asks, his voice quivering with nerves.

Bridger sits up a little straighter, his brows lifting in surprise. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The boy’s eyes go wide as he bounces on the tips of his toes. “I knew it! You play for the Wildcats, right?”

“That’s right,” Bridger says, his tone warm and easy.

“Could you… could you sign something for me?” He holds out a crumpled napkin along with a pen, his expression hopeful.

With a chuckle, Bridger takes both items. “Sure thing. What’s your name?”

“Charlie,” the boy says, his voice barely above a whisper.

As Bridger scribbles on the napkin, I sit back and watch. There’s something about the way he interacts with the kid that throws me off balance and has everything softening inside me. He’s kind and genuine, without a trace of his usual cockiness.

Charlie practically vibrates with excitement when Bridger hands back the napkin. “Are you gonna play in the NHL next year?”

The question hangs in the air for a second too long.

Bridger leans back, his smile dimming just a bit. “As much as I’d like to do that, it’s not in the cards for me, bud.”

Charlie’s face falls, and I feel a pang in my chest.

Bridger reaches out and taps the boy’s shoulder gently. “But who knows? Maybe someday. Are you gonna keep cheering on the Wildcats through the playoffs? We could sure use the support.”

The boy nods and his grin returns. “I just know the team is going to make it to the Frozen Four!”

“That’s the plan.”

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