Page 56 of Peak of Love
“Wh—?” He was momentarily agog because she was, well, stunning. A long braid was casually strewn across her shoulder, the tip of her hair grazing an ample chest. Her hips drew his attention when she posed indignation with fists on them. They were not slender hips by any means. Her body was full and curvaceous and gorgeous.
It usually took a lot more to render Sebastian speechless. He didn’t expect to see such a pretty girl in the confusing basement of a dingy community center, that’s all. Who could blame him if he wasn’t making the best first impression?
But he was nothing if not a charmer. Sebastian donned what was usually a disarming smile when he spoke. “Just right now.”
“You could have said something,” she commented, far from disarmed.
She had incredibly expressive eyebrows. Dark and full, with a shapely arch. They framed the largest eyes he had ever seen. They took up so much of her face, she looked like a doe. The aggressive kind.Was there such a thing as aggressive deer?Because apart from being large and riveting, nothing about those eyes suggested innocent, meek Bambi. She looked pissed.
“Well?” she blurted impatiently.
Wait, what?Why was she being so salty? Sebastian realized that although he was mildly irritated by her attitude, he was undeniably intrigued by the fact that the more she glared at him, the more flushed she got. Her skin practically glowed.
“I talked to someone on the phone. Are you Jaya Patel? I’m dropping off sticks from the Cincinnati Thrashers locker room. Donations. They’re used and some are broken though the guy on the phone said you have a way of refurbishing for kids.”
She glanced at his empty hands. “Do you need me to get them? Outside?” She began to slip into her jacket.
“No, no,” he retorted. “They’re right here.” Sebastian grabbed the donations in the hallway to bring them into the room.
“Thanks.” She knelt to open the hockey bag and started to remove the sticks, placing them against the wall.
“You can keep the bag.”
“Cool, thanks. The kids can always use extra hockey bags. I still need to organize the sticks.”
She stood up and walked around the desk. “Do you need a receipt for your donation?” she asked, whipping out some kind of writing pad.
“Nope.”
She pinched her lips and raised a brow at him. Like maybe he was too stupid to grasp what people did when their transactions ended. If there was a cartoon banner over her head, it would read: What the fuck are you still doing here, then?
“You’re alone down here,” he stated plainly.
Her brows furrowed. “I’m aware of that.”
“It’s pretty isolated. You’re alone.”
“Yes, that is the definition of…alone.” Her sarcasm was thick as molasses. Then, as if she wanted to lessen the harshness of her tone, she sighed and followed up with, “I’ve been volunteering here for a while. It’s safe. Thank you for your concern. Have a good day,” she offered robotically.
Suddenly, she turned her back to him. To him! What the fuck with this woman, he thought. Her indifference bothered Sebastian to no end. For some reason, he couldn’t leave until he got her to turn back around.
“How does a girl like you get involved with a hockey charity?” he found himself asking. Even before the full sentence left his mouth, her shoulders were already stiff. By the time she faced him, he knew for a fact he should have shut up.
Yet something about the angry line of her full lips was smoking sexy. He stared at her mouth, from which emitted a humorless chuckle. “A girl like me?”
“I mean…you know. A woman. An…Indian woman. You’re Indian right? Like from Asia not from, you know…”
She exhaled as if this was a question she knew how to answer by rote repetition. “I’m from Detroit and yes, my parents migrated from Asia. Sri Lanka and India, in fact. I grew up playing hockey. Now I work as a counselor with at-risk youth. I volunteered to be part of this organization so some of those kids can be exposed to the sport I love. So yeah, that’s what a girl like me is doing with a hockey charity…alone.” Her face was hard to read though the corners of her lips twitched at the last word. As if she willed herself not to be snarky but decided, why not? It would be funny.
Although the joke was directed at him, he thought itwaskind of funny.
“That’s cool.”
“Sebastian, right? Beaumont?”
He raised a brow. “At your service.”
She rolled her eyes and returned to that cute pose with fists on her hips.
