Page 2 of Hockey Halloween
Willa
The moment this fascinating stranger in front of me introduced himself as Nolan, I knew he wasn’t my blind date. But it didn’t stop me from continuing our conversation.
Because let’s be real: the man is gorgeous.
He’s tall, maybe six-two or six-three, all lean muscles and charisma.
His deep blue eyes, dimples when he smiles, and stubble are other things I find extremely attractive.
Not to forget that laugh. Oh, that unrestrained laugh.
It bursts from him, rough around the edges.
Almost as if he doesn’t do it too often.
The draw to him is about more than the looks.
There’s a quiet confidence about him, a subtle charm that feels genuine.
He’s not trying too hard like many men I have dated in the past. He doesn’t need to.
He’s the kind of guy who could blend into the background if he wanted to.
The moment he focuses on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. Right now, all of that focus is on me.
“Okay, be honest,” he flashes his dimples as he grins, “did you dress as a mummy because you love ancient history or because it was an easy costume?”
“Can’t it be both? I’m a historian, so dressing as a mummy seemed appropriate. ”
His eyebrows shoot up with genuine interest sparking in his eyes. “A historian? That’s so cool. Which period of history?”
I love how he knows to ask that. Not everyone does.
“Primarily U.S. history during the interwar period, from 1918 to 1939, so the Roaring Twenties and the Great Depression. Lately, though, I’ve been diving deep into the history of New York City since the late 1800s.
I spend most of my days surrounded by old letters, newspaper clippings, and black-and-white photos.
” I take a sip of my drink, letting the warm bittersweet flavor settle on my tongue.
“Looking back, ancient Egypt and that area in general have always been my side obsession. I mean, who can resist the allure of pharaohs, curses, and lost tombs?”
“I wasn’t expecting that, but it’s the coolest thing I’ve heard all year. I love history myself.” His brows lift in excitement, making him more endearing if possible. “There’s something magic about the idea of piecing together the past. You’re preserving people’s stories so they aren’t forgotten.”
“Exactly. That’s why I love doing what I do for a living.”
“So, what does your job entail?”
“I work as a historical consultant for museums around the country. These days, my apartment feels more like an archive than a living space. The way you described it fits perfectly. I love putting together stories and uncovering the evidence that links a person’s life to a moment in time.
It’s detective work, only without the danger. ”
“Now that’s my kind of mystery. Do you live here in the City?”
“I do. I’m originally from a smaller place in Minnesota called St. Cloud, but I moved here five years ago.”
He laughs, sounding surprised. “You’re kidding. I live in Minneapolis, but I’m originally from Alexandria.”
“No way!”
“Right? What a small world.”
“So we’ve got our love for history, The Mummy , midwestern roots, and a random club in Manhattan in common,” I tease. “Clearly, this was meant to be.”
“Fate works in mysterious ways. ”
Smiling, I lean in a little, “So, what about you? Do you solve mysteries for a living, too?”
He hesitates, appearing a little sheepish before replying. “Sort of. But nothing as cool as bringing history back to life.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Now you’ve got me curious. Don’t tell me you’re a spy or in witness protection. That would be too on-the-nose for a guy I randomly meet at a Halloween party.”
“I promise I’m not those things. I’m just a man in a costume, standing in front of a beautiful woman, hoping to impress her.”
“Well, mission accomplished.” The words slip out before I can stop, but I don’t regret them. Not when Nolan’s grin widens, and a hint of pink colors his cheeks.
“Careful.” His voice is husky with amusement and something more intoxicating. “Keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking tonight really is more than just a fluke.”
“Maybe it is,” I murmur. “Maybe we both needed something, or someone, unexpected.”
“Since we’re being honest, I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight,” he admits. “My friends dragged me out. Said I needed to loosen up and forget work for once.”
“Funny. I’m here because my friends said I needed to take more risks.” I meet his gaze, the weight of it sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Seems like we both got what we needed.”
“Maybe.” He brushes his fingers against mine, a fleeting touch. “Or maybe the night’s only getting started.”
As I hold his gaze, a flutter of anticipation blooming in my chest, I can’t help but hope he’s right.
“Are you always this smooth or am I just lucky tonight?”
“I’ll let you decide.”
Our gazes stay locked, neither of us willing to blink and risk breaking the spell. His blue eyes, warm and searching, seem to drink in every detail, as though he’s trying to commit the moment to memory. Maybe he feels it too—that rare, electric spark.
Before I can come up with a clever response, a voice cuts through the music and laughter around us. “There you are, Willa.”
Blinking, I turn toward the sound. A man in a similar costume to Nolan stands a few feet away. He’s attractive in a polished, curated kind of way. He has a clean-shaven sharp jawline, perfectly white teeth and artfully tousled hair. Everything I should find attractive.
But when I look at who I assume is Greg, my actual blind date, I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Oh,” I blurt, instantly feeling awkward tension between us. “You made it.”
He steps closer, not bothering to greet Nolan. His eyes move between us, narrowing at the space separating our bodies. He notices. Of course he does. There’s a flicker of something—annoyance, maybe even suspicion—before he smooths it over with a forced smile.
“Traffic was hell, and then finding a parking spot was another nightmare. I can’t believe it took me over an hour to get here from my place. What a disaster,” he complains.
I nod politely, pretending to care, even if I’m ready to bolt. My fingers tighten around my drink, channeling my darkening mood.
“I’m here now, so we can have our date as planned,” Greg continues. “Don’t you agree?”
Nolan stands up straighter beside me. There’s no visible shift in his expression. Still, the air changes.
“I—” The words get stuck in my throat as I glance between the two men. My actual date and the one I wish had been. What a disaster, indeed .
Nolan smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, you know where to find me if your date doesn’t turn out to be what you expected. Enjoy your night, Willa.”
His intense gaze holds mine for a second longer than necessary. Then he lifts his glass in a casual salute and turns to walk away. Staring after him, my heart knocks against my ribs, wishing to stop him. To call out his name, to say, “Wait, I choose you.”
He disappears behind the corner before I can make a move, leaving me frozen in place. I often freeze during confrontations. Always have. Today happens to be the first time in months I hate myself for it .
Next to me, Greg is launching into a story about his office and how hard it is to find good interns these days. It feels more like we’re resuming an old conversation than starting a new one. His voice is smooth and polished. Just as meticulously composed as everything else about him.
Yet, all I can think about is Nolan and the way he looked at me, eyes full of curiosity, as if I were a mystery he wanted to unravel. As if he needed to learn every last detail there’s to know about me and my life.
Too bad I’m a bit late for realizing that.
Shit, I screwed up big time.