Page 41 of The Playmaker

“Get in the car, Playmaker, before I make you walk all the way home.”

I climb in and she slides into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life and she gingerly backs up. I appreciate her keeping the movements slow. The last thing I want is for my vertigo to return, and to end up back on the bathroom floor.

“Is there a game on tonight?” she asks.

“Nope.”

“So you don’t have any plans.”

“I thought we did.” I wiggle my brows playfully and from the look she’s casting my way, I know she gets the gist.

“Do you think about anything other than sex?”

&nbs

p; “Hockey.”

“Well, the Doc said you needed to do relaxing things, so I’m going to book us a Paint Nite. There’s one at Freeman’s Bar, not too far from your place. I was checking it out in the waiting room, and tonight they’re painting a daisy.”

“Paint Nite?”

“Yeah, it’s fun. You don’t have to have any skills for painting.” She rounds the corner slowly, and when the car behind us honks at her unhurried pace, and she flips him off in the rearview mirror, I laugh. She grins and goes on to explain, “There’s an instructor, and they go step by step, sort of like paint by numbers.”

She turns her head to find me staring at her. “Me, paint?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Ah, because I don’t paint daisies. I’m not a girl.”

“Oh, stop.” She whacks me, and I capture her hand. I bring it to my mouth for a kiss and her breathing changes slightly. “Lots of guys go. When I went with Jess, there were couples there on a date.”

“So this is a date?”

“Noooo,” she says, expanding that one word, to make sure I understand, I suppose. “This is about me finding ways to help you relax.”

“Like I said—”

“Cole,” she warns, and I laugh.

“I just like having sex with you, Nina. What’s so wrong with that?” Other than this is my best friend’s kid sister, and I like her, a lot. Too much. Which is fucked, because it’s not like we could have a future together. She’s as messed up as I am about such things.

She casts me a quick glance, and I don’t want to think too hard about the spike in my heart rate when she gives me a smile, like my words mean so much to her.

“I like having sex with you, too,” she says.

“Now we have to have slow sex. Like lovemaking.” Shit, why did I say that? I don’t know, but if I keep it up, I’m going to have to hand in my man card.

My stomach takes that moment to grumble, and I’m glad for the distraction.

“I need to feed you,” she says. “That sugary bowl of cereal hasn’t taken you very far.”

I feign disgust. “Cereal for breakfast. What am I paying you for again?”

“We ran out of time,” she shoots back. “And don’t pretend you didn’t like those Captain Crispies. I heard your moans.” Before I can come back with some smart comment about her moans, she says, “Besides, I don’t want your money. I told you that. We’re just both helping each other out.” She takes a left instead of a right.

“Where are we going?”

“If I’m going to stay at your place, I need to get clothes. I can’t live in your shirts.”

---