Page 62 of One Night Only
“You love your family,” she says as more of an observation.
“I do.” I nod. “After meeting your family today, even just for a few minutes, I feel like our families are quite similar. My dad is the quiet and reserved type, a little gruff. My mom is loud and proud. My little sister is… meddling, but she means well.”
Emily laughs again.
Rosie returns to our table carrying a wooden board topped with the bruschetta, the scent of garlic and olive oil infiltrating my senses, and it’s only then that I realize how hungry I am.
“Are you seeing your family for Christmas?” Emily asks, taking a piece of the bread and placing it onto her side plate. She glances at me, brow quirked. “Do you even get time off for the holidays? I don’t know how it works with athletes. I know some football teams play on Christmas day.”
I finish chewing a bite of the bread, the flavors exploding on my tongue. “Yeah, actually, we’re kind of lucky with hockey. There are no games or practices scheduled Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or the day after Christmas. And depending on the schedule, you can even get a couple extra days off,” I explain. “We play our last game on the twenty-second, and then we’re back on the ice on the twenty-seventh, so we have a decent break. I’m flying home to Texas the morning after our last game, and then I’ll fly back here the day after Christmas.”
“I’m sure your mom is excited.” Emily grins.
I throw my head back with a laugh. “She’s been asking me, double-checking every single time we speak. Like I’m about to tell her I’ve changed my mind or something. I can’t blame her though. It’s been two years since I’ve been home for Christmas. She’s so damn excited to have all her babies under one roof this year.”
“Aw, she sounds so sweet.”
“She’s probably the sweetest woman I know,” I say, but then I realize my mistake. “Well, actually… maybe she’s a close second now.” I wink.
Emily dips her chin, smiling as she looks down at her plate, and I see the telltale hint of pink flush her cheeks again.
CHAPTER 25
EMILY
Dinner was so good. I don’t remember a time I’ve ever eaten such delicious, authentic Italian, and Rosie was adorable. She just kept bringing us food. And it was all to die for. But after consuming my body weight in bread and pasta, and maybe one too many heavy red wines, I’m a tiny bit tipsy as Dallas and I stroll down to the shorefront, despite the freezing air blowing off the harbor.
“It’s so quiet down here,” I say softly, feeling the need to keep my voice down.
Dallas wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close as we walk the path, the Verrazano Bridge lit up against the darkness of the night sky.
“That’s where I grew up.” I point across the bay, the lights of Staten Island glittering in the distance. “Staten Island, born and raised.”
“Did you love growing up in New York?” Dallas asks.
I nod. “Yeah, I mean… I don’t know any different. Growing up in Staten Island was like its own separate town, y’know? The city—Manhattan—wasn’t somewhere we ever really needed to come. But it was good for a special occasion.” I smile at the memories. “For my thirteenth birthday, my mom took me into the city to seeWicked. And after that, we made it a thing. Every birthday we spent in the city seeing a show, or checking out the galleries, shopping, staying in a fancy hotel, just being tourists. It was fun.”
“Growing up in Texas was a little different.” Dallas chuckles. “Especially the panhandle. We were over a forty-minute drive from civilization.”
“How does a boy who grew up on a cattle ranch in the Texas panhandle get into ice hockey?” I ask, looking up at him. “Don’t most ice hockey players learn to skate before they can even walk? I don’t imagine there’s a lot of ice in Texas?”
“My momma wanted us kids to play a team sport growing up. Living on the ranch, she wanted to make sure we weren’t excluded. My brother played football, but I wasn’t interested in that.” He grins. “And I remember watchingThe Mighty Ducksone night on TV, and I said to Momma, I wanna play that.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“You gotta understand, my mom will do just about all it takes to make us kids happy, so she called up a few places, found out there was a rink in Amarillo, and when I started in their peewee team, I just…” He shakes his head, a faraway look in his eyes as he gazes out at the inky water. “Turns out I was actually pretty damn good at it. Especially for a boy from the panhandle.”
Right at that moment, a heavy gust of wind blows in off the water, and I shudder as it whips around us. Dallas tightens his arm around me, pulling me even closer.
“Are your teeth chattering?”
I nod, my whole body shivering.
“Me too.” He laughs, grabbing my hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Dallas is a surprisingly good singer. He’s been singing along to the music in the car, specifically Luke Combs, for the duration of the drive from Bay Ridge and into Manhattan, and I can’t stop myself from smiling, watching him as he really gets into the lyrics.
Between him singing his little heart out to “Fast Car” and the way his hand hasn’t left my thigh the entire drive, I’m in trouble. With a capital T. The man is so hot, and I am not ashamed to say that I’m still wet after what I did in the car on the way here, and I really want him. Like,reallywant him. Sue me.
