Page 37 of Puck to the Heart
“You know I’m already predisposed to like him, right? Anyone willing to fly my daughter across the country to see me is alright in my book.” As usual, he read my mind.
The elevator door opened, giving me a moment of reprieve as I swatted his uninjured arm, earning me an exasperated look.
“Dad.” I rolled my eyes a la fifteen-year-old me, so he wouldn’t catch on how big of a deal this was.
“I don’t think I’ve met anyone you’ve dated since…”
Not that there’d been anyone since Alex. I cut him off with a sharp rap to Ash’s door and alook. “We aren’t. Dating.”Because of me.
Ash opened the door right on cue, ushering us into his room.
“Good morning, Olivia, Mr. Barnes.”
“Darren Barnes. Nice to meet you, Asher.” Dad cast a sidelong look at me when I stayed off to the side, unsure what to do.
Ash was surprisingly polite. Polly’s doing, I guessed. “Ash, please, Mr. Barnes.”
“Only if you call me Darren.”
Ash nodded, looking lost.
Dad reached out to shake Ash’s hand, and I was relieved to see he didn’t do the overbearing father bit, trying to crush Ash’s hand. Not that he would’ve been able to, and now wasnotthe time to think about the size of Ash’s hands on my body.
As Ash closed the door behind us, he leaned in close to kiss my cheek, and butterfly wings fluttered in my chest.
But not my gut. He never made me nervous or uncomfortable. Irritated, yes. Nervous, no. More than all the wanting and the heat, the lack of nerves solidified whatever I felt and… kept failing to ignore.
A blink, and I realized Ash and my father watched silently as I stood in the doorway with my hand pressed to my face like an idiot.
The scene flickered into focus. Across the room, Ash waited, but my mouth clamped shut at the sight of him.
Wow, what a great start.
“Olivia.” Dad interrupted my thoughts. “Are you going to say hello?”
“Hi.”Really, Liv?Hi?The man looks edible and all you say ishi? But he looked like he wantedmefor breakfast, with those black eyes tracking my every move, and it took my dad pointedly clearing his throat to draw my attention away from Ash. Did hotel floors open up and swallow their occupants whole? I would prefer it to whatever was happening right now.
“Breakfast,” I croaked as Ash pulled a chair out for me. I sat down stiffly, looking at my hands and fiddling with my napkin.
We sat in silence until a knock sounded at the door, and a flurry of waiters rushed in with carts holding what might be theentireroom service menu: a mountain of pastries, fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy potatoes, fresh fruit, waffles, and then I quit cataloging and dug in.
Breakfast was always my favorite meal. When I was younger, Dad always made sure I at least ate cereal before school, but large, hot breakfasts we reserved for the weekend. Pancakes were his specialty, and the taste of cinnamon and brown sugar usually transported me back in time to easier days.
Yet there I was, sitting at a table as a whole ass adult, across from my father and the man who brought me here.
Instead of sniffling and carrying on about my feelings, I drank another gulp of the divine coffee and prayed my teeth wouldn’t vibrate out of my skull all day after consuming so much caffeine.
“So,” Dad began, and I tensed, “hockey?”
“Yes, sir.” Ash poked at his waffle with a fork, wincing when it scraped across the plate.
Was Ash Wilder… nervous? Everything we’d experienced would never have led me to believe this enormous, gorgeous,cockymanin front of me might ever be something so mundane as nervous.
“He’s one of the highest-scoring defensemen in the league, and he’s up there with assists, too. And now, he’s in the running for team captain.”
Ash dropped his fork with a clatter, directing his intense gaze on me. “I thought you didn’t know anything about hockey.”
“No, but Polly taught me a little. And Google.”
