Page 68 of Daring the Hockey Player
"I don’t have a thing for hockey guys," I say.
The only guy I have a crush on is standing twenty feet away. Sure, he happens to play hockey, but my feelings are for him. It doesn't hurt that he has a rocking body, abs to die for, and a mind that is just as sexy as the rest of him.
Damn, I'm way too invested in Jasper Greyson. Maybe I should heed Charlotte's suggestion and go out and meet some new guys.
Jasper is silent. I watch him as he removes the plates from the cabinet and then digs into the fridge, preparing something to keep busy.
"Do you need any help?" I ask.
"You've done enough," Jasper mutters.
Charlotte and I meet each other's stares.Jealous,she mouths, and she's right. But why?
We're just friends. Jasper has made sure that's all that happens between us. Even after he tossed me the jersey, he's turned down every advance that I've ever made, and while it hasn't been that many, it's more times than I wish to recount.
I can pick Charlotte's brain later when Jasper isn't within earshot. I grab my phone from the table and text her.
Why is he jealous?
I let her see the text and refrain from sending it. There's no need to have a record of our conversation or her phone to buzz for him to wonder what's going on between us.
She grabs my phone and erases the text, answering me.
He wants to get in your pants.
I yank the phone back from her and erase the message as quickly as possible. "What are you two conspiring about?" Jasper quips, glancing over his shoulder at us.
"Nothing. I was just showing her some photos on my phone." It's a little white lie, but I am passing my phone to Charlotte, so at least it's believable.
Charlotte has a smug smirk on her face—anI told you solook—that says way more than necessary.
I'm in denial. No way that Jasper Greyson has feelings for me. I click away, showing her another message that I type.
No way. He sees me as a sister.
She grabs the phone, laughing as she erases the message.
"What kind of photos?" he asks. He's standing at the counter chopping vegetables and preparing a salad in a large wooden bowl. He pauses and stares at me, his lips parted, but he doesn't say anything further.
There's something very domesticated about his behavior, and I try not to stare at him.
"The racy kind!" Charlotte quips, and I smack her shoulder.
"And she's showing them to you?" Jasper frowns like he's trying to make sense of my behavior, as if I would show my best friend naked pictures.
"She's not naked," Charlotte says, and I'm sure my face has turned the color of an overripened tomato. "Just lingerie, and I'm helping her pick the best photos for a dating site."
"What?" The knife he's using to cut up the vegetables for salad clanks to the floor.
"Are you okay?" I ask, standing to make sure that he didn't butcher himself.
"Fine," he mutters and bends down, retrieving the metal instrument from the ground. He picks it up. "I still have all my toes. You can sit back down." He turns on the sink and washes the knife with soap and water.
I ignore him and finish the rest of my drink. "Let me help," I say, coming into the kitchen. Unlike my studio, where the kitchen barely fits one person, his kitchen easily accommodates two people. Heck, his living room could host a comfortable party; even with only four places to sit, there's plenty of mingling room.
Charlotte stands, slowly approaching the kitchen. "I feel like I should offer now, or I'm a terrible guest." She's smiling and watching the two of us as she props herself at the kitchen counter on one of the stools.
Jasper has already set the counter bar where we eat with plates, silverware, and napkins. "One of you can grab drinks for dinner," he suggests.
