Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(65)

“No, it shouldn’t.” I put my hand on his knee and squeezed gently. “There were parts of being a Marine and there are parts of being a cop that would be totally out of place in a relationship. I get it.”

Asher searched my eyes, and slowly, he seemed to relax, as if that was what he’d needed to hear. “I don’t know how you do any of it. I get in a fistfight every once in a blue moon because…” He waved a hand. “Boys. Testosterone. Hockey. But it’s never life or death, you know?”

I shrugged tightly. “Being a Marine or a cop are what I’m good at. I don’t know what exactly that says about me, but there it is.”

“The only thing I’m good at is chasing a little black disc around on ice, so I won’t judge.”

“You know that’s not true.”

He eyed me.

“You’re exceptionally good at it, yes, and you get paid to do it, but you’re also a good guy. I’m not hanging around eating pizza and shooting the shit with you because I like watching you play hockey.”

He actually blushed, which was seriously cute. Even with the shiner.

“And hey, my kids like you.” I smiled. “That has to mean something.”

“They do? They’ve barely met me.”

“But they already like you, and they’d like to meet you more. In fact…” I put my hand over his knee. “Now that you’ve met them, would you be opposed to idea of going out? All four of us?”

“Why would I be?”

I shrugged. “Some guys are. But David and Claire would love to see you again, and if we’re going to keep doing this, well… I’d like you to see them again. If you want to.”

“Sure.” He smiled broadly. “Sounds like fun.”

“Awesome. We’ll have to do that.” I withdrew my hand and went for my pizza again but paused. “You know, it’s kind of ironic. My kids were barely speaking to me because they were pissed I’d broken up with my ex. Now they suddenly want to spend time with me and the new boyfriend.” I rolled my eyes. “Whatever works, I guess.”

Asher laughed softly. “Yeah. Whatever works.”

*

Miraculously, it only took about a week before everyone’s schedules lined up. Both of my kids had extracurricular activities, and Claire had recently started putting in a few hours a week on a family friend’s online gift basket business so she had gas money. My shifts were predictable but meant my evenings were often shot. And then there was Asher, who would be living in a constant state of “between games” until the season ended. The regular season ended in April. If the Steelheads made the playoffs, the postseason ended two weeks after the sun burned out. So making do with chaotic schedules was going to be par for the course for a while.

This week, I was still on desk detail until I was fully cleared after the concussion, so I had an easier time leaving at a reasonable hour. Asher had had a home game last night, but the team didn’t leave for their next away game until tomorrow. We wouldn’t just get the evening with my kids; I could actually spend the night with him. Still wasn’t quite ready to fool around again—the headaches and dizziness made the thought of sex nauseating—but I was almost there. By the time Asher came back after this game, I’d probably be good to go.

For tonight, it was out with the kids, then home for a quiet evening with Asher. Perfect.

Since parking in Seattle was worse than driving in Seattle, we took one car. I left mine at the precinct, and Asher picked me up in the Ferrari. Through some wizardry or bribery or God knew what, he found a parking garage on the edge of Fremont, one of Seattle’s quirkier neighborhoods, and he left the car there.

“You’re not worried about someone breaking in?” I asked as we got out. “Or getting a door ding?”

Asher shrugged and shut the door with his hip. “Not as worried as I used to be.” The alarm chirped and locks clicked, and we started toward the exit. “But people used to break into my piece of shit Civic, too. And door dings? Hell, people get so freaked out over putting a ding in a car like that, they’re pretty careful.”

“Guess that’s a good thing.” I slid my hands into my pockets. “I’m probably extra paranoid because of my job. All I ever see are the vandalized and burglarized cars.”

“That would make anyone cynical, wouldn’t it?”

“Probably, yeah.”

With the Ferrari parked and presumably safe, we wandered out of the garage and up the street to a trendy bistro that Claire had suggested. Apparently her stepfather loved the place and had gotten the kids hooked on it, and she insisted Asher and I would like it too.

David and Claire were already waiting, and their faces lit up when they saw us. Okay, yeah, I know—when they saw Asher. But I didn’t let that thought linger.

A host sat us near the back and left us with menus while he went to get our drinks. One glance at the menu, and I decided my kids’ stepfather did have good taste—everything sounded good, from the paninis to the pasta dishes. I really shouldn’t have been eating in a place like this while I was taking a medical break from my workout regimen, but…meh. One meal wouldn’t kill me just like the pizza with Asher last week hadn’t killed me. Damn, I really needed to get back to the gym.

While we were perusing the menus, David turned to me. “Oh hey, Dad? The music boosters need another check for marching band trips, and Mom says she can’t swing it this payday. Especially with the deposit coming up for driver’s ed.”