Down and Dirty (Hot Jocks #5)(18)

With a defeated sigh, Aubree picks up her menu. And when the bartender swings back by, we place our order.

“Tell me more about your work,” I say, taking a sip of the beer in front of me.

Aubree looks down at her hands, going momentarily quiet. “I love what I do,” she says after a few seconds of silence.

When I probe more, she launches into a story about a program she’s designed called Little Rookies Camp, which will be for kids ages six to twelve and is geared at reducing childhood obesity and also creating lifelong hockey fans. The program will be completely free to the public and held a few times a quarter. Right now, she’s working on securing donors to supply all the equipment—helmets, pads, skates, and sticks—since it will be provided to the kids free of charge.

“That sounds awesome.”

We make small talk while we eat, hitting on a wide variety of topics from our childhoods to our favorite books to our favorite foods. She’s easy to talk to, and I’m having more fun than I anticipated.

I guess I was worried tonight would be awkward. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since Vegas, but thankfully it’s not awkward. Far from it. I find myself leaning closer, looking into her eyes, captivated by her. I also love that she insisted she wasn’t hungry, and then took down a whole burger and is now working on my fries.

“Annie can’t be your favorite movie,” I say on a groan.

“It is.” She nods, dragging her fry through the ketchup on my plate.

I guess movies are just one more thing we can’t agree on. No big surprise there.

“Fine. What’s yours?” she asks.

“Shawshank Redemption, obviously. I’m not a monster, Aubree.”

This pulls a laugh from her. “You’re something . . .”

The soft feeling inside my chest is entirely unexpected. I like sitting here with her, sharing a meal, bickering over things. It feels domestic. Natural.

It’s time to ask the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue since I got here. “Why did you rush out of my room that night in Vegas?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, pausing with a fry in her hand.

I smirk, knowing full well that she knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Well, I for one liked the kissing.”

She chuckles, setting down her food and wiping her hands on a napkin. “I liked the kissing too, but . . .” She pauses, her face flushing.

“But what?”

On a deep inhale, Aubree leans a little closer. “I haven’t had sex in a very long time, and I . . .” With a nervous chuckle, she waves her hand. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

My mouth twitches with a smile. Damn, she’s cute when she’s nervous. If I’m reading between the lines, I take her comment to mean that she liked what we were doing and her body wanted more, but she was trying to be respectful of my boundaries. It’s kind of hot, to be honest.

“I wasn’t sure where the line was,” she says, her voice coming out soft.

And she didn’t want to cross it. Again, hot.

“I’m not a saint. Never claimed to be.”

“So, we could have done other things,” she murmurs, her brain obviously working.

“I’m a big fan of other things.”

“Are you now?” She chuckles.

“I’m actually president of the fan club.”

After this, the bartender swings by.

Once I slip a couple of bills into the leather portfolio, I ask her, “You ready to get out of here?”

She nods, gathering her purse. “Thanks for dinner. I probably would have eaten an entire bag of popcorn when I got home, if it weren’t for you.”

“No worries. That’s what I’m here for.”

Outside on the sidewalk, I wait with her for the valet to bring her car. When the small silver sedan stops next to the curb, she nods.

“That’s me.”

I walk her to the car, and the valet hops out, leaving the door open. Aubree looks up at me expectantly.

I’m unsure on the protocol here, and I don’t want to push her, but I do want to kiss her. I lean in and give her a hug, and when Aubree wraps one arm around my shoulders, her fingers brushing the hair at the back of my neck, it sends sensation tingling down my spine.

She studies me as if she’s unsure what to do or say next. But there’s no playbook, no analytical reasoning that could make this situation between us make sense. So I follow my instincts, bringing my lips to hers for a sweet, slow kiss.

“Good night,” I murmur.

“Night,” she says softly.

Then I watch her drive away, my heart still beating fast from that kiss.

? ? ?

When I get home, the newest rookie, Jordie, is standing outside my building, looking at his phone.

Fuck. I forgot I’d invited him over to play video games tonight. I guess it goes to show how distracted I’ve been since returning from Vegas.

“You’re late,” he says when I approach.

“Sorry, dude. Were you waiting long?”

He shakes his head as I use my keycard to buzz us in through the front doors. “Nah. Five minutes, tops.”

Inside the elevator, Jordie launches into a story about the pair of best friends he met last night, who he swears wanted to take turns sharing him. I’m pretty sure he’s full of shit. Then again, who the hell knows. I only met Jordie two weeks ago after he got called up from our minor league affiliate. But since we’re both younger than most of the guys on the team, I figured I’d reach out to him and invite him over.