A Secret for a Secret (All In #3)(22)

“Well, you’re this famous hockey goalie, except you’re really low key about the whole thing.”

“It’s my job, that’s all.”

Queenie rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but you make seven figures a year, and a lot of your teammates are all about social media and showing off, but you’re just . . . not like that at all. Plus you have this incredibly wholesome image, from the milk with every meal, to the driving the speed limit all the time, to the whole khakis and polos deal. What’s that all about, by the way?”

I run a hand over my chest. “Is there something wrong with khakis and polos?”

“No, but other than a suit or goalie gear, it’s the only thing I see you wear.” Her gaze shifts to my chest and then back up.

“Well it’s like semicasual, semiformal, isn’t it?” When she cocks her head to the side, I continue. “And jeans can be uncomfortable, but khakis are always soft, and you can always dress them up or down with shoes. If I’m going to a barbecue, I can throw on a pair of tennis shoes and it’s casual, but if I’m going for dinner, like tonight, I can dress them up with a pair of loafers or dress shoes.” I stick my foot out so she can see my black, polished shoes. “Plus, white shirts are easy to wash. I can always put a capful of bleach in the load, and I don’t have to worry about faded colors, or mixing colors.”

“So it’s a convenience thing?”

“Mostly, I guess. Once I accidentally put a red shirt in with my whites and everything turned pink, which I’m not opposed to, and I was in the middle of a breast cancer campaign for my cousin, so it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but you can see how the colors can be an issue.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You drink milk because you have a sensitive stomach and it’s good for you.”

“Correct,” I supply.

“And you wear khakis because they’re convenient and white shirts because it’s easier than colors.”

“Also correct.”

“And you’re a famous goalie.”

“I’m not famous.”

“You are, at least in the hockey world, and it’s not something to feel bad about.” Queenie taps her lip. “How many long-term serious relationships have you had?”

“What does that have to do with my wardrobe and sensitive stomach?”

“Nothing. I’m just curious and trying to figure you out. Plus, I know what you’re like when you get naked, and it doesn’t match the milk-drinking, khaki-wearing Boy Scout.” She’s smirking, and her eyes glint with mischief and maybe some memories of that night.

“That’s not really what I’m like.”

“That’s not what you’re like, period, or that’s not what you’re like with anyone but me?”

“That’s . . . I don’t . . . I’m not—” I stumble over my words, unsure how to respond, because I’m not sure the truth is something I should divulge if we’re supposed to be keeping this platonic.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“The alcohol made me less inhibited,” I blurt.

“So, lowered inhibitions are to blame?” Based on her grin, I think she’s still poking fun at me.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I’ve only been drunk three times.”

Queenie’s eyes flare. “Like, ever? In your entire life?”

“Yeah. I had a bad experience as a teenager that I haven’t wanted to repeat ever again.”

“Did you get trashed at some hockey party in high school or something?”

“Uh, no. Let’s just say my older brother wasn’t a great influence.” And not much has changed since I was a teenager.

“Still, sort of an extreme reaction, to never drink again.”

“I drink, but usually only one, and never shots,” I explain. “What about you?”

“I’ve made plenty of bad decisions while under the influence; unlike you, I don’t seem to learn from them.”

“But you said you don’t usually go home with random strangers.”

“Oh, I don’t. That was a first for me. And just so we’re clear, you were actually one of the best bad decisions I’ve ever had the misfortune of making.” Queenie winks.

I focus on my glass, wishing this situation were less complicated, and that I’d taken her out on a date before we’d ended up in bed, naked, and then almost had sex. “I’m glad you feel that way. And I’m still sorry about . . . how overzealous I was.”

“I happened to enjoy your overzealousness.” Queenie blows out a breath. “Anyway, let’s change the topic, since this one is probably going to get me into trouble. What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re not playing hockey?”

“Trouble how?”

“It’s probably not a good idea to stroll down that memory lane, you know? Especially since we’re working on the friend angle.”

“Right. Good point. I like pretty much anything that’s a physical activity.”

Queenie laughs. “Well, you’re good at physical activity, so that makes sense.”

“What about you? What do you like to do when you’re not at work?”