Page 10 of Rematch
His long sigh took her off guard, as did his next words. “Well, that figures.”
“What does?” she asked.
“Looks like I’m destined to remain a hopeless romantic.”
She tilted her head, confused. “Why’s that?”
“Because I finally meet the girl of my dreams and she’s about to move four thousand miles away.”
Chapter Two
Joy laughed. “Oooo. That might be your best line yet.”
Preston grinned, even though he wasn’t entirely sure it had been a pickup line.
Just like the two of them running into each other hadn’t been random. He’d spotted the beauty the second he walked into the party tonight, his gaze drawn to her time and time again as he socialized with his buddies.
His opportunities to attend parties like this during the hockey season were always hit and miss, depending on whether he had a home game, late practice, or was on the road. Today, the Baltimore Stingrays had played a one p.m. game in Philadelphia, so he and a couple of his teammates stuck around to attend tonight’s party with Elio Moretti. Elio had played for the Stingrays before retiring a few years earlier to run this inn with his wife, Gianna.
To make things even better, Preston had tomorrow off—he needed the recovery time—before flying to Florida with the team the day after. So he’d decided to take advantage of the opportunity to chill with his friends for a couple hours. His original intention had been to drink a beer and rehash the glory days with Elio and the guys, and then drive back to Baltimore because he preferred sleeping in his own bed versus staying in a hotel.
Sleeping in hotels got old quick, and considering he’d been doing it for fifteen hockey seasons, it was safe to say he was well over it.
That plan changed when he saw her. Suddenly, one beer became two as he watched her, captivated by her pretty face, her gentle demeanor, and something else he hadn’t been able to put his finger on. There was a vulnerability about her that he’d initially attributed to shyness…but now he knew it had been put there by an asshole ex.
He’d been approaching her, trying to figure out what to say, when she’d stumbled into him, her hair getting caught in his Christmas lights.
“What makes you think it’s a line?” He attempted to keep his tone light and fun.
“If it’s not, then you really should get to know me better before you go making a wild, sweeping claim like that,” she said, grinning.
“I think that’s a great idea. So tell me. Why Paris?” While it was a crazy thought, he couldn’t help but wonder how married she was to the idea of skipping off across the pond.
“The opportunity was too good to turn down. I landed a dream job and, well, it’s Paris,” she said, as if that should explain it all.
“Dream job, huh?”
“Yeah. But I’m not going to lie,” she confessed. “It’s going to be difficult leaving my hometown, my parents, and my friends. It’s just…the offer presented itself at the perfect time, and I realized there was nothing holding me here.”
She turned slightly on the couch so that she was facing him more fully. Preston couldn’t resist the desire to cut the distance between them, so he shifted forward until their faces were closer, his arm still resting on the back of the couch, allowing him to stroke the side of her neck once more.
She glanced over her shoulder, back in the direction of the dancing, and he wondered—okay, worried—that she was uncomfortable with his touch or thinking about ending the conversation here.
“Tell me one of your childhood dreams,” he said quickly, unwilling to let her walk away.
Her attention returned to him, and she was clearly pleased he wanted to continue their get-to-know-you game. “Let’s see,” she said, tapping her lower lip with her finger playfully. “Oh, I know. For one whole year, I wanted to be a meter maid. I used to ride my bike up and down our street, putting tickets on all the neighbors’ cars.”
“Bet they loved that,” he said sardonically.
She shrugged. “Luckily, it was a great neighborhood, so they were mostly entertained, and a couple even played along, paying my quarter fine.”
Preston chuckled. “So I have to ask. Did that dream come true? Are you off to Paris to ticket the French for double-parking by the Eiffel Tower?”
She snorted. “Not even close. After a year as a ‘meter maid,’” she air-quoted the last two words, “I moved on to bus driver. Stopping my bike outside every house to pick up imaginary students for school.”
“Did you have better luck making that dream come true?”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a deep dark secret. “Not even close. I’m a terrible driver.”
