Page 54 of Last Fall

13

Zoe

Chocolate is Totally aConspiracy

The sun was wellpast set and I was tipsy. I definitely didn’t feel sober enough to drive. “Stay and have dessert with me,” I said, placing a very intentional hand onhisarm.

I really liked the way he grinned. It made me happy when I made himhappy.

“I’m achocolateman.”

“Chocolate is my favorite,” I whispered for some reason. Must be the alcohol. It wasn’t like chocolate was a secret or some kind ofconspiracy.

We moved from the bar to a quiet corner booth and ordered two decadent desserts while I emptied a glass of water. “Your family sure can drink some wine.” I always thought I had a decent tolerance but without even thinking I’d gone just past mylimit.

I blamed Jack and hissuggestions.

“We buy it by the case for theholidays.”

“I’m sureyoudo.”

The dim lighting in the bar made all of this feel much more intimate than dinner. Of course there was also the fact that we were alone, but also this sense that somewhere over the course of the meal I’d gotten to know a new side of Erik. The family man who could have a little fun while still maintaining a watchful eye on hissiblings.

“Are you feeling more comfortable around me, Zoe?” he asked as he pushed his mostly full glass of water around the table. It was like he wanted to be doing something else with those hands so instead he was keeping them busy with anything hecould.

“Yes. That’s part of why I wanted to havedessert.”

He let go of the glass and sat back, his full attention on me. “What do you want toaskme?”

I decided somewhere around the third glass of wine that the adult thing to do was just talk to Erik. Go straight to the source of my secret discomfort foranswers.

“They call you Bear.” My nerves rattledtolife.

His chin rose a fraction of an inch as he studied me intensely. Really, really intensely. Like he was trying to dig into my brain and understand what my four words reallymeant.

“Are you askingwhythey callmeBear?”

I guess I really hadn’t asked a question, had I? “I’d like to hear it fromyou.Yes.”

The air felt heavier with my words hanging around us. I didn’t sense any friction from Erik, though. Just concern. “I’m not the best player on the team,” he said carefully. “I already told you that when they called me up from the minors I didn’t expect to stay. I’m not...I’m not a superstar, I guess you’d say. But teams at this level don’t need ten stars. They need a team that works well together. That means having a mix oftalents.”

He paused as the desserts arrived. The waiter sensed he was interrupting a conversation because he only asked if we needed anything else and then hightailed it out ofthere.

“What’s your talent, Erik?” He might not be a “superstar” but he was good. Very good. The Mantas didn’t keep him around because he waspretty.

Although he was definitely goodlooking.

He picked up the spoon and dug into his chocolate mousse, offering ittome.

I stared at that spoonful of chocolate and whipped cream realizing this little gesture said quite a lot about Erik. He didn’t pounce on his dessert. He thought of me first. He did the same at dinner. Always pouring wine for everyone else before refilling his glass. He made sure there was enough pasta. He gave his sister the last piece ofbread.

Erik was generous and thoughtful. Possibly to a fault. Maybe it was part of his upbringing—taking care of his family made up the fabric of his being. I wanted to learn so much more about this partofhim.

“Thank you.” I took the spoon and tasted the mousse. The flavor exploded over my tongue, the chocolate dark and rich, not overpowered by sugar. Then the cream melted and blended, creating the most pleasurable response in my body. I was probably always going to think of Erik, chocolate, and pleasure becauseofthis.

When I pushed my bowl toward him, offering him a bite, he grinned, then took a forkful of cake. We traded bites like this several times before he finally replied to myquestion.

“I knew if I wanted to have a shot at staying on the team I needed to give them something they needed. Something that was killing their ability to win games was the disorganization. The Mantas had no leader. They’d done an excellent job of recruiting rawtalent.”

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