Kiss and Don't Tell(61)

“Just her,” he answers, looking to the side. “She actually interns with the team.”

“Oh, that’s fun. So, you see her often?”

“No, but I try to get her to go out to dinner with me maybe once a month. She tries to act as though she doesn’t know me because she’s afraid people will scream nepotism when, in fact, she’s worked her ass off to be where she is right now.”

“I can understand that.”

“She’s actually your age and, oddly, I think you two would be good friends.”

“Would we drive you nuts?”

He nods. “The ball-busting would be painful.”

“That does sound fun. How long have you been playing hockey?”

“Growing up in Minnesota means the moment you can wear hockey skates and stand, you’re playing hockey.”

“So . . . young, I take it.”

He winks. “That would be correct.”

“Do your parents go to your games?”

“They catch a few throughout the year in person, and they watch every other game on TV. It pains them that I play for the Agitators, actually, because they’re diehard Polar Freeze fans.”

“Are they rivals or something?”

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, they are. So, whenever we play Polar Freeze, Mom and Dad say they root for me, but cheer for the Freeze.”

“Ooh, that can’t be easy.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I take joy in blocking every shot that comes my way from their favorite team. Quite comical, actually.”

I play with the bubbles at the surface of the water. “So, I take it you have a good relationship with them?”

“Yeah, pretty good. I call them every so often. They brag about me, and they put me in my place. I see them for the holidays when I’m available, and they come to Vancouver over the summer for a few days just to visit. They love going on whale-watching tours.”

“How fun. Okay, what’s your favorite color?”

“That’s one of your hard-hitting questions?” He chuckles. “Black, like my soul.”

I tilt my head to the side in disbelief. “Your soul isn’t black. I might not know if you wear boxers or briefs—”

“Briefs.”

“Uh . . .” I clear my throat, trying not to think about him in briefs. “But I can tell you this—your soul is not black.”

“Sure about that?” he asks in a challenging voice.

“Positive. And do you know how I know?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Well, you see, not many guys would go out of their way to help me like you have. They’d be expecting something from all of that, like they were wooing me to get me into their bed, and even though you told me you want me, you’re not pressuring me. Instead, you’re sitting as far away from me as I’ll allow while keeping your eyes trained on me. If your soul was black, you’d take what you want.”

“Maybe you’re right . . . maybe my favorite color is blue, like my eyes.”

I push water at him, causing him to laugh. “You’re an idiot. You tricked me into saying nice things about you.”

“Wouldn’t kill you to say a few nice things, you know, after you got all the boys a present except me.” He bats his eyelashes at me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to point that out.”

“To save you the embarrassment, I thought bringing it up without company around would be best.” He rubs his hands together. “So, do I get a present?”

“No.” I rest my head against the back of the hot tub.

“Brutal.”





“Seriously, don’t look,” I say. “I’m afraid things might fall off when I get out of the water.”

“And that would be a bad thing because . . .” Pacey drawls out while holding up a towel.

“Because it’s not a good time to show off the goods. I’m all wrinkly from the water.”

He chuckles and turns his head away while holding out a towel. I slip out of the hot tub and then wrap the towel around my body.

“Thank you,” I say softly as he picks up a towel for himself and dries off his chest.

“Do you feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do. This was a good idea.”

“I’d say so.” He wiggles his brows and then picks up his phone. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was midnight.”

“What? Seriously?” I ask.

“Nah, it’s just ten thirty.”

“Dear God. I was going to say, that can’t be good for a human, you could scramble your loins.”

“Fuck.” He cringes. “Winnie, the visual on that.”

“Well, you need to be careful. Like Johnny Rose says, we need to be careful with our hearts . . . and our parts.”

He shakes his head at me. “You’re something else.” He holds up my robe, and I slip into that as well, going for double coverage, and then he takes my hand again and walks me through the house. The movie is still playing and it must be some epic battle scene because the bass is pumping.

“They keep the movie loud,” I say.

“And I would bet twenty bucks that they’re all asleep. They always say if they keep the movie loud, they won’t fall asleep, but they do every time. Taters is always the first to nod off.”