Page 11 of Face Off
“You know…Aunicorn. That rare kind of love you find. Where that person loves and supports your goals and aspirations without dreaming of holding you back.” The one who would accept a single mom and her child.
“I don’t think that’s what the actual definition of unicorn in a relationship means,” he teases.
“Then what does it mean?” I say, narrowing my eyes at him and the cocky smirk he’s wearing.
“I’m pretty sure it means something along the lines of a polyamorous relationship.” His smile grows as my jaw falls open.
“Oh. My. God. That is totally not what I meant,” I say, throwing a French fry at him as he chuckles at my embarrassment.
It’s weird being here with Brooks. It feels all little too intimate, but I’m not about to bring that up. My buzz is finally wearing off, and I’m sure this was all a ruse to get into my pants. Which will most definitely not happen now regardless of how buzzed I was or vulnerable. I’m not sure why he would bother trying anyway when there are thousands of girls who would gladly do it so easily.
He looks like he wants to say something, but Joanne interrupts him. “Can I get you anything else, sugar?”
Sugar.
Yeah, adoptive mom my ass. She has the hots for him.
He shakes his head as he pulls a hundred from his billfold. “No thanks, Jo. This should cover the damage. Keep the change.”
She shakes her head, walking away and taking our plates with her. We walk outside the diner toward his car. Our comfortable conversation disappearing and the tension in the air as thick as pea soup.
“You know you don’t have to drive me home. I think I’m sober enough and can manage to get an Uber,” I say, fishing my phone out of my bag.
He puts his hands in his pocket as he leans against the passenger side door. His muscles flex, revealing the veins of his forearms. Such. A. Turn on.
It’s seriously like porn for healthcare workers.
“Really, I don’t mind, and I’m already here. You’d have to wait… what like thirty minutes for an Uber? And I wouldn’t be letting you wait alone.” He makes his point.
“Fine,” I say begrudgingly as I step toward the now opened passenger side door.
He passes me his phone to input my address into his GPS. He pulls out of the parking lot, driving toward my home. I can’t help but glance his way as he drives. His strong arms flex as he focuses on the road, a lock of his thick, dark hair falling onto his face as his brows furrow as if he’s deep in thought.
Is he being truly genuine tonight, or is it all a part of his game? Could there really be a kind, passionate man beneath that rugged exterior of a hockey player? I doubt it, but I can’t help but wonder.
Fifteen minutes pass, and he’s pulling to the curb to park in front of my townhome. It’s night like tonight that I hate goinghome alone. Camden’s out with his friends, and where am I going to be? All alone in an empty house.
“Well, thank you for the ride and dinner,” I say, quickly grabbing the door handle and opening the door.
His door flies open just as fast as he makes his way to my side. “Here, let me walk you to your door.”
Seriously?
He can’t be serious. Just because he has driven me home, fed me, and walks me to my door does not mean he will get an invitation inside my home. This night keeps looking more and more like a date I didn’t even ask for.
“No really, it’s fine,” I say, slamming the door and walking toward my stoop.
My door keys in hand, I turn around to see Brooks a few steps behind me. He slows his pace as he reaches the same step as me.
He runs a hand through his hair as if he’s nervous about something.
“Brooks, you don’t have to say anything. I’ll be fine,” I say before turning to my door and putting the key in the lock.
“Somehow, I don’t doubt that. I was just gonna ask if I… could use your restroom before heading home,” he says, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.
“Oh,” I say, a pink blush forming on my cheeks. “Yeah… sure.”
I step inside, holding the door open for him to enter before kicking my heels off into the pile of shoes next to the front door. I place my purse on the entryway table and walk toward the living room, Brooks following close.
