Page 50 of Don't Look Down

“Correct.”

“Isn’t it Irish?”

“Also correct.”

He only looks at me expectantly, wordlessly asking me to fill in the blanks. Words spill out of me. “Cuba and Ireland have quite the history. It’s not very well known. You should look it up sometime. Without going too deep, Irish soldiers sought refuge in Spain during the seventeenth century. Some of those soldiers helped defend Cuba in Cuba’s Spanish military.”

“Really? That’s fascinating. I’ve never heard anything about this in history classes.”

I shrug. “I’m not surprised. It’s not part of American history. If you look at a map of Havana, Cuba, you’ll see Irish influences in street names and buildings. For me, though, my Irish roots are just a tiny bit more recent. On my father’s side, an Irish laborer was contracted from New York to help build some of Cuba’s first railroads almost two hundred years ago. He was one of many. Once the railroad was completed, many of those laborers were abandoned in Cuba, and were too poor to leave. He had no choice but to make Cuba his home. The rest is history.”

He nods. “I’ll have to look it up sometime. I love learning random historical facts.”

Our food is delivered, and the scent makes my mouth water and my stomach growl.

“Holy shit, this looks amazing,” he says, while picking up his fork.

“Wait until you taste it.”

A sinful moan reaches my ears, and I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth. Our eyes meet as he chews and swallows, an odd tension filling the air. I refuse to acknowledge that it feels distinctly sexual, and shove the bite of French toast in my mouth.

“Mmm, here. Try my French toast.” I cut a piece and offer it to him. He leans forward and accepts the bite. Right off my fork.Zero hesitation, his lips making full contact with the utensil I just had in my own mouth.

The intimacy of feeding him strikes me in my gut, tension coiling tighter.

“Oh, wow. Damn, Sky. That’s delicious.”

I have something else that’s quite delicious for you to put in your mouth.

My voice is an odd squeak. “Isn’t it, though?” he hums in response, as he eats another bite of his food.

Change the subject, Sky. Move to safer topics.

“I bet you’re relieved you guys have a few home games coming up, huh?”

He nods. “Definitely. That reminds me. I’ve been wanting to offer you one of my family and friend tickets.”

“What?” I screech.

He laughs and nods. “I have a spare ticket. Mom uses one of my allotted two. Pops used to use the other one, but since he no longer lives in Florida, it’s mostly unused, unless one of the other guys asks for it. I’d rather you have it.”

The squeal I let out right there in the restaurant draws some attention from the other diners. Not to mention a side-eye or two, but Landon doesn’t bat an eye. Only smiles indulgently at me. Warmth fills me, knowing he accepts and embraces me for who I am. “Landon! Oh my god! Yes!”

It should be embarrassing how fast I accept his offer, but I have no shame in this case.

Hello! It’s hockey.

Who am I kidding? I have no shame in most cases.

His smile is huge. I’m so happy I could kiss him, but friends don’t kiss friends.

“I’m basically a Bull Sharks season ticket holder now.”

“Yeah, basically.”

“Thank you so much. I’m over the moon.”

His smile softens a little, his eyes tracing my face. “You’re welcome, Sky.”

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