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He laughs and says, “I do like my carrots. I credit them with not needing glasses. Cooking isn’t my forte and I’m not home that often yet. The off-season means I can actually hang out with my friends when I want and this is one of those days when I’ll pick up something to eat while I’m out with the guys.”

I nod, shutting the door. “You’re not into the clean-eating thing I’ve heard most hockey players do?”

“I usually do, but I get my food from a chef.” His expression is pained, almost like he’s embarrassed to say that.

With a shrug, I say, “You might as well. I mean, food is the fuel to help your performance, right?”

“Are you into cooking?”

I laugh, thinking of my lack of abilities in the kitchen. “I do a lot of meal prep with things that are already cooked. Less chance of a fire that way.”

He laughs, the sound coming from deep down and I have to look away so I don’t focus on the beautiful outline of his jaw, the bright white of his teeth. Yep, I need to get this job done as soon as possible before I start obsessing.

“Well, we’re going to have to get some more things to fill the shelves in here. Maybe some more place settings so you can have your friends over every once in a while?”

“That sounds like a great idea. When you’ve got an idea for other stuff to buy, we’ll go shopping.”

His words make me gulp. I can barely function with him during the limited stints at his house, let alone spend hours going through stores to buy things for his home.

“Let’s take this one step at a time, Turbo,” I say, trying to walk past him. I’ve never been this close. Okay, that’s a lie. The last time I was this close to him, aside from the hug he gave me on his front sidewalk yesterday, he was probably seventy pounds lighter and six inches shorter, but he smells so good right now that I almost go blank on being the strong, independent type.

“Turbo, huh? Why do you say that?”

Finally, something to clear my mind. Hockey can always do that. “You do a great job of pumping your team up, of doing everything you can to keep them motivated. But most of the time you use up so much energy hyping that you don’t have as much for game time.”

“Good to know that my nickname comes from a place of love,” he says with a grin.

That four-letter word shouldn’t be said within my vicinity. Ever. Not from those lips.

“I’m just here to get your life organized.”

I hope he stays where he is but once I step into his room, I can see he’s right behind me.

He clears his throat and says, “It sounds like you know quite a bit about hockey. I take it you’re an avid fan?”

“The ice is home for me. I didn’t realize that until I’d been gone from it for a while.” Lame Donovan.

He sits on the corner of his bed as I drag a few boxes away from the wall just three feet from him.

“I need to hear the story.”

“Why?” I ask, turning to him with a frown.

“Because my curiosity is like a cat and I’ll be coming up with scenarios for the rest of the day.” We sit there staring at one another for several seconds, a charge of tension thick between us.

Instead of answering, I turn back to the box, pulling out several long-sleeved shirts.

Trey asks, “Okay, how about we do an exchange? I’ll tell you a rough dating story and you tell me one of yours?”

I scoff, knowing mine is hard to top, even if he’s a celebrity.

“I’m listening,” I say, still focused on the clothes. There’s a lot to do and I still need to get as much done here before we have to film. Every spare moment will be split between organizing Trey’s house and my dad’s. I had nightmares last night that I got lost forever in my dad’s hoard.Hopefully my work doesn’t constantly take over sleep as my business grows.

“My mother thinks I should’ve been married three years ago,” Trey begins.

“Are you kidding? You’d just gotten into the NHL and–” I clamp my mouth shut. I’m just an excited fan who’s had a crush on the guy since I was a teenager.

Trey smiles and I focus on folding the shirts to fit into the drawers. If I can’t see his grin, maybe I’ll keep this as close to a client relationship as possible.