Mister Hockey (Hellions Angels #1)(23)
Understatement of the year.
Chapter Eight
Jed parked his Land Rover on the shady street in front of the old brick home decorated in red, white and blue bunting. By the time he’d climbed out and gotten to the passenger door, Breezy was climbing out.
“Did you need something?” She raised her brows, hands clasping the cake pan wrapped in plastic cling wrap.
“I dunno.” He closed one eye and kicked a broken piece of asphalt. “Just to feel like a gentleman?”
It took her a second to work out his meaning. She glanced between the car, to him and back before a lightbulb went off. “Oh. Oh! You were going to let me out of the car? Well, then, hang on.” She opened the door and climbed back inside. “By all means, proceed.”
Was she mocking him? He frowned the thought away. She didn’t seem like the type to bust his balls. Then again, the only things he could say about Breezy Angel with any degree of certainty was that she liked a wide variety of sex toys, had a laugh that he wanted to hear again and again, a great ass and an authentic quality.
A refreshing realness.
“What are you doing?” he questioned as she pulled the passenger door shut.
She leaned against the window. “No one has ever opened my car door before,” she shouted. “Not a once. There’s no way that I’m missing out.” The glass fogged from her breath and she drew a smiley face in the condensation.
While her eyes danced with amusement, he knew with the same confidence that he knew that the first NHL goal was scored on December 19, 1917 by Dave Ritchie of the Montreal Wanderers against the Toronto Arenas that she was being dead serious.
Which was fucking crazy.
No guy had ever opened Breezy’s car door? What was wrong with his gender? Talk about a pack of morons.
But he didn’t have time to nurse the flash of irritation. Not when she was looking at him expectantly, like having him perform a small chivalrous gesture, like opening her car door, made him the white knight of her dreams.
This was a girl who believed in fairy tales. He could do this small thing for her.
He grabbed the door handle and opened it. She flopped back in her seat and smiled. “Again.”
“What?”
“Please do it one more time?” Her laugh was damn charming. “Really let me savor the moment.”
Now he felt like laughing too, at the pure adorable idiocy of the situation.
He complied with her request, sweeping into a low bow as he helped her outside. Once she was standing, he leaned close, lips hovering against the edge of her ear. “How was that?” He inhaled her clean scent. “Live up to every expectation?”
“And then some.” Her body responded in a subtle shiver as he pulled back. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something more, but hesitated.
The silence felt loud with all the things that were going unsaid. Their drive here hadn’t been quiet. There’d been music. Pleasantries exchanged. But nothing that dived below the surface. Certainly no acknowledgement of their kissing marathon. Or the fact he’d bolted for the door.
“They’re here! They’re here!” A child’s voice cried from the open door. Excited chatter rose from inside.
Breezy winced, even as a smile appeared. “That’s my cousin Sam. He’s nine, the baby in the family. You sure you’re up for this? My family . . . I wasn’t kidding, they are a lot.”
His own family was small. His mother was an only child and his father had lost his younger brother in a car accident while still a young man. He knew his parents loved him, but they weren’t the type to say it. Instead he’d hear his father bark “you didn’t try enough,” every time Jed lost a game in high school.
It got so bad Jed asked him to stop coming to his games, even though he almost always won. Losing still sucked. And to have your dad up on the bench, his face long with disappointment, made it ten times worse. Dad didn’t say much after Jed’s frustrated request. But after that the focus doubled down on Travis.
And he’d let that happen. Been relieved even.
He froze, realizing Breezy had just asked him a question and he didn’t have the first clue what it was about.
“Can you repeat that?”
“I was just wondering if your family does get-togethers?”
“Nah.” Hopefully his shrug looked natural. “My big brother lives in Oakland with his wife and kid. And my parents live in the Bay too. But everyone tends to keep to their individual silos.”
“Ah.” She considered his explanation. “I’m trying to decide if that sounds sad or relaxing. What about Christmas and stuff?”
He frowned. Last year his parents had gone on a cruise in Egypt, on the fucking Nile. The Nile. Denial. That joke had been almost funny after a beer . . . or six.
“Usually I just hang out with Tor . . . I mean, Coach Gunnar. He’s divorced and we used the holiday breaks to catch up on reviewing game tapes.”
Breezy got that look on her face again. The one that seemed to want to call bullshit, but was too polite.
“Oh say can you see . . . someone gorgeous is in front of me.” Granny Dee’s warbling voice rang out as she draped in the doorway wearing a shirt that read Party Like It’s 1776 and winked from under a giant Uncle Sam hat.