Page 67 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
Something in my chest tightens.
That’s right. I used to beg him to go with me whenever he was around - shoving books in his hands, forcing him to sit through my readings of fairy tales, romance novels, and adventure stories.
“Youhatedit,” I murmur, a small smile playing on my lips.
He scoffs. “I tolerated it.”
I laugh. “You complained the entire time.”
“And yet, somehow, you always got your way.” He shakes his head like he still doesn’t know how I managed it. “Anyway, I walked in today, and it was like stepping into a memory. I’ve forgotten how great - quiet, cozy, the place used to be. That old lady who runs it… uh, what’s her name again?”
“Miss Eleanor.”
“Yeah, her. She gave me a whole speech about how people don’t appreciate handwritten letters anymore.”
I laugh. “She does that. She’s a big believer in old-fashioned romance.”
Blake snorts. “She basically called me a lost cause.”
I shake my head, grinning. “I would’ve paid to see that.”
He smirks but then tilts his head slightly. “I also watched some of the videos you took around town. You really captured the beauty of Autumn Cove.”
I smile, warmth blooming in my chest. “Well, Autumn Cove is a beautiful place.”
He nods, his gaze flickering to the fire before returning to me. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say without hesitation. “As a travel and lifestyle influencer, I get to explore new places, share experiences, and help people see the world through a different lens. It’s exciting.”
“What’s your favorite place you’ve traveled to?”
I exhale, thinking. “That’s a tough one. But if I had to pick…, Santorini was breathtaking. Kyoto had this perfect mix of old and new, and the Amalfi Coast? Unreal. New Orleans has its own magic, too. The energy, the food, the music - it's incredible.”
Blake listens, nodding occasionally. “Sounds amazing.”
“It really is.” I smirk. "Oh, and I once accidentally ate fried spiders in Thailand."
His expression is blank. "Accidentally?"
I sigh. "Fine. I was curious. But I thought they’d be crispy, not…, whatever texture they were."
Blake shakes his head, chuckling. "Sounds like a self-inflicted problem, Whit."
I place a dramatic hand over my heart. "Wow. No sympathy. Noted."
He grins and I glance at him. “What about you? Ever traveled anywhere outside of hockey trips?”
He gives a small shrug. “Not much. Most of my travel has been for games, so it’s usually hotel rooms, rinks, and airports.”
I hum. “That’s a shame. You should travel for fun at least once.”
“Maybe one day.” His tone is light, but there’s something unreadable in his expression.
We fall into a comfortable silence, the fire crackling between us. The warmth of the room, the quiet of the night - it’s…, nice.
Should I or should I not ask?
"Ask," Blake says suddenly.
