Page 40 of Mistlefoe
I push away from my desk and say, “Let’s find a conference room.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
I try not to focus on how his muscles flex while he removes his jacket. Thankfully, I have to keep walking around him towards the meeting rooms hallway, or else the gossipmongers would catch me drooling over Conor.
Man’s more than fine, what can I say. I wasn’t even immune when I thought I hated him.
He sighs behind me several more times until we lock ourselves in a meeting room. I whirl around to face him with my arms folded. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
Is it the kiss? It has to be the kiss. He probably regrets it. My mouth goes dry at the concept and I have to work my throat several times until I’m able to swallow.
If he does regret it, it’s going to be real hard to pretend like I’m cool about it. Because I’m not. In fact, it’s the entire opposite—I’m still very hot about it. If he wanted to kiss me again right now I wouldn’t care that the meeting room walls are iced out glass panes.
“Gramps doesn’t want to do it.”
“Huh?” What? Kiss me? I also don’t want to—Oh. “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah.” Conor rubs the back of his neck and avoids my gaze like it burns. “He just won’t listen, old curmudgeon that he is.”
Ugh, I can feel things rising to my head. Embarrassment at what my previous train of thought was, and also a headache.
As I massage my temples, I say offhand, “I don’t get it, he doesn’t seem that bad.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe you should’ve been the one to ask him.” Conor hangs his head and leans back against the glass wall. “I had a feeling this could happen and yet… So basically, it’s all my fault.”
“Wait, wait. I need you to backtrack and like, fill in all the blanks for me.”
Another extremely pained sigh and then… “Gramps wants to close the rink.”
You could hear a pin drop.
“Um, why?” I cringe because his body language screams that this is personal. However, this is also about our project—our bonuses. Grammie being able to spend Christmas with us, getting medical treatments and quality prescriptions. Me being able to hug her with all my might and giving her all the presents she deserves.
He runs a hand through his hair and it gets all spiky and messy. “It’s complicated. The finances haven’t been working out for a while but he refuses to do something about it. Like this kind of event could be a legit new revenue stream, you know?”
“Absolutely. I’m pretty sure I’ve watched only a million holiday movies with skating dates and family events at skate rinks, and all that. Why not corporate parties too?”
“Right. Thank you!” He gestures with his hands before slumping again. “But that’s not the real reason.I’mthe reason.”
When all he does is frown, I say, “Words, Conor.”
“He thinks it’s a constant reminder of… you know.” He waves a big hand around the air. “The career I lost and all that.”
I suck in air.
Conor starts gesturing bigger the more he talks. “But it doesn’t, and that’s what he doesn’t get. Iloveteaching kids how to play hockey. I want them to succeed way past what I ever achieved. Why do they have to get their dreams destroyed so early because of me? Like, how would that ever make me happy? Make it make sense.”
His speech ends in him huffing and puffing, his cheeks pink and eyes flashing with temper.
Um. As we say in Spanish: adorable.
“I have a proposal for you.”
“I’m all ears.” He lifts a hand to rub his stomach. “And frustration.”
I press my lips against the smile that starts to form, because he’s still so wound up about this and I don’t want him to think I’m mocking him.
“What if I try talking with him?”
