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My cheeks are beginning to hurt from grinning. “Do you miss it?”

“Being grumpy?”

“Stop deflecting.” I reach out and smack his arm gently. “When was the last time you went back? Are you going back for Christmas?”

It’s like I pulled the plug, and Doug’s happiness drains from his face almost instantly.

“Shit,” I say, placing my hand on his hand where it grips the stem of his wine glass. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I haven’t been back for almost a decade. No plans to either.”

As much as I want to press for more information, I don’t. What I want is to get back the playful, grinning Doug. Ever since running into him at Alesso’s I’ve seen him differently. Even now, in just a thin black sweater and dark jeans, I can’t ignore how damn attractive he is. Somehow, over the last couple of years, I must have built up a resistance. But now, I can’t seem to go back to seeing him as ‘Coach’.

“You know,” I say, tipping my glass toward him. “Buying me drinks could be construed as showing favoritism.”

He laughs. “Impossible. Facts are facts. You’re the best on the team.”

The compliment heats my skin and I roll my eyes to cover it. I’m about to suggest another glass when he stands.

“We should probably get going. The bus leaves at five and I already know I’m going to feel like shite warmed up.”

My mouth twitches as I gather my things. “You say some seriously weird crap.”

“Not weird,” he says. “British.”

Shaking my head, I follow him out of the bar and into the dark, cold evening. It’s busy, with people moving up and down the streets laughing and talking as music spills from open doorways. Across the street, DJ Lurkstar is still playing his set.

We walk down the sloped sidewalk toward the hotel in silence, but it’s comfortable. With the sights and sounds constantly changing around us, it’s nice to just revel in the atmosphere.

It’s only when I venture into cities that I realize just how Franklin West is. With just the mountains for company, you can go days without hearing a car. It’s nice, but it’s not for me. I’m a city girl at heart and I can’t wait to live somewhere where you can get anything you want at any time of the day or night.

The team is staying at a small, boutique hotel just five blocks from the bar. There are twelve of us on the team, and with the two coaches, we’ve booked out pretty much the entire place. As we head up the concrete steps to the door, the amicable silence evaporates.

There are only three floors and as we reach the top floor, I turn to him. “Your room up here, too?”

He raises his eyebrows. “No. I was just following you to yours.”

“Oh,” I breathe, panic fluttering amongst something else a little unexpected. “I don’t . . . I mean . . .”

“I’m fucking with you,” he says, his smile bright even in the dimly lit corridor. “Of course, my room is up here.”

My skin is hot enough to melt off my face. “Yeah. I knew that.”

Doug grins at me, pulling a key from his pocket. “Thanks for putting up with me tonight.”

“You definitely owe me now,” I say, letting myself drink in the way his black sweater hugs his chest and arms. “It was a real hardship.”

He stares at me with such intensity, I shiver, tucking a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from my ponytail behind my ear, I’m not sure what the etiquette is here. Do I let him kiss me on the cheek? Just walk away? Fist bump? Tonight felt less like a coach and his captain and more like friends. But we’re not. Not really.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips and Doug’s eyes zero in on the action.

“I wish I could remember,” he murmurs.

“Remember what?” I ask, the words barely more than an exhale.

The hotel is silent despite not being that late. I’m almost certain most of the team will be asleep after the early start, the adrenaline from the meet long since faded.

“Kissing you,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wish I could remember. I feel cheated.”

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