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“You forgot the—” Before I can finish, he pulls the whipped cream out of the fridge and sprays it on top of my stack of cinnamon waffles with a smirk.

Then he pours me a drink that is far from a proportionate level of apple cider to champagne and slides it in front of me.

All I can do is stare between him and the food that looks droolworthy.

“What?” he asks.

I slowly shake my head. “Nobody has made me breakfast before.”

He’s quiet, causing me to look up at him.

His eyes are on mine. “I’m not always going to be the best at this, Olive. But I told you I want to try. So, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll make you breakfast as much as I can when we see each other.”

I already like the sound of that.

“And what do I need to do in return?” My brain goes to very dirty places. Places that I wouldn’t mind exploring outside of my conscious.

Alex leans forward, resting his arms on the counter so he’s inches from my face.

Just when I think he’s about to tell me to do some of those delicious things to him that my mind is conjuring up, he says, “Make me your mom’s famous lasagna at least once.

Maybe put on a pot of coffee for us once in a while when we wake up in the morning. ”

One of my eyebrows goes up. “What about ordering DoorDash? I can’t guarantee you’ll like the lasagna, and I don’t know any other dishes that I won’t mess up.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and his light touch leaves a trail of fire in their wake. “I’m sure I’ll like it just fine.”

I don’t know why those words give me goosebumps, but they do. Big ones that are hard to miss if you look at my arms. But whatever. “I think I can make that happen,” I answer.

His knuckles graze my cheek before he stands up and gestures toward my food. “Good. Eat up. We’ve got a busy day ahead.”

My brows pinch. “What are we doing?”

“You’re coming with me to Lemieux.”

He says it so casually I almost miss it. Almost. “Lemieux? As in, the sports complex? The one your team practices at?”

Alex loads up his plate and nods. “That’s the one. I already told Clarkson I was swinging by. We won’t see their whole practice because I’m not a masochist, but we’ll see the end of it.”

He’s taking me to meet his team?

“Jesse Clarkson, as in your captain?”

“Yes.”

“Belle’s brother?”

“Stepbrother,” he corrects, “but yes.”

I wet my lips. “Why?”

“Because you love hockey,” he simply says, cutting into his eggs.

Because I love hockey.

Damn.

Damn .

I think Alex O’Conner is trying to make me fall in love with him again.

Not that I ever really stopped.

*

I stop at the third case that takes up half the wall, staring in awe at the jerseys, team pictures, and trophies on display. “This is Sidney Crosby’s jersey!” I exclaim excitedly, pointing at it as if Alex hasn’t probably walked by it a million times already.

He’s standing behind me looking into the case and nods. “That’s what it says.”

Why doesn’t he sound excited? “Alex, he’s like the Penguins’ version of Tom Brady. He’s the goat. Wasn’t he the first overall draft pick for Pittsburgh in ’05?”

He blinks. “How do you know that?”

“Because I love hockey,” I remind him with a smirk. “And because I’m pretty sure I had a giant crush on him when I was little. Thought I’d marry that Canadian cutie.” I sigh dramatically. “It was nice to dream. Too bad he moved on.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “You’re something else. Come on, unless you want to keep drooling over all that stuff. We’ve barely made it twenty feet into the building.”

“It’s your fault for bringing me here,” I accuse him, feeling the tug of his hand against my arm. Looking down, I watch his fingers slide from my forearm to my palm, interlacing our fingers as he guides us down the hall.

Suddenly, I’m not thinking about the display cases at all. Or Sidney Crosby. Sidney who ? It’s like Eli Manning all over again when Alex is touching me.

“Next time, I’ll make you stay in my apartment alone when I go out,” he promises nonchalantly.

I grin. “You’d trust me in your apartment?”

He looks over at me. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve got nothing to hide. You already met my mother.”

Maybe he’s got a point. “Most guys wouldn’t want girls snooping.”

“You’re not most girls, Olive” is all he says.

It’s such a casual remark, but it means way more than that. “You better be careful with those words,” I warn him. “You’re getting mushy on me.”

Alex chuckles, squeezing my hand. “I’ve got no shame. You can have the passcode to my phone, too, if that’s what makes you happy.”

I don’t need his passcode. “That’s not what would make me happy. Relationships are about trust, right?”

He nods.

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

We stop at a set of doors where we hear yelling on the other side of. There’s a whistle, followed by more yelling, and the signature sound of blades scraping on ice. It makes me beam as I try peeking through the window on the door to get a glimpse of what’s happening.

“Three, two, four, seven,” he says.

I blink, peeling my eyes away from the door slowly. “What?”

“That’s my passcode,” he says before opening the door and gesturing for me to go in.

I’m speechless for a moment longer before blinking and snapping out of it.

The inside of the room is colder than the hallway, and it feels like home away from home.

I’ve always preferred to be cold over hot, like I was built to love hockey.

I even sleep with a fan all year round. My brother used to say that made me weird.

Alex guides us toward the rink where his teammates are scattered on the ice. They’re doing drills—a three-on-three corner drill by the looks of it. When we stop near the glass, only a few people seem to notice us.

One of them immediately starts walking over, and I know who it is before he even stops. “O’Conner,” Jesse Clarkson greets Alex. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“Shouldn’t you be on the ice?” Alex shoots back to his captain.

The captain doesn’t answer. He turns to me, holding out his hand. “Belle told me Alex had company.”

Company is a nice way of putting it. “I’m Olive Henderson.”

“Henderson,” he says, dipping his chin down in recognition. “Your brother is a hell of a player. I’ve been impressed since he signed on with the Rangers. Even though he blocked my winning shot last year at the Garden.”

I snicker. “Guess it wasn’t a winning shot then, was it?” I retort with a grin.

His lips pull up at the sides, stretching the scar I know he got playing against the Red Wings. “Tell him if he ever gets sick of the Rangers to come down here. I’m sure coach wouldn’t mind a new add on.”

As if Sebastian would ever do that. I nudge my elbow into Alex’s side. “I’m sure Alex would love playing with him again. Huh?”

Alex’s lips twitch downward. “It’d definitely bring up…memories.”

It’s not quite the reaction I’m expecting, so I lower my arm.

Alex doesn’t seem to want to talk about his former teammate, because he changes the subject. “Are you guys ready to play Montreal? I heard the predictions about their advancement this season.”

If his captain wonders why he’s switching gears, he doesn’t bring it up. So, I remain quiet as they talk amongst themselves.

Walking away from them to get a better view of the drill happening, I tune out the talk happening behind me and watch as the six players practice their passes.

I know two of them based on their numbers; seventeen and fifty-eight. Iassac Nelson and Thomas Moskins are fluid out there, just like they are during actual games.

For five minutes, I watch the two teams go back and forth as the coach makes the calls and directs them to switch up and approach from different positions.

Most of it is smooth, like they’ve done hundreds of times before.

But the newer players are obviously not as fast, one of second stringers almost getting a puck to a very sensitive place that I can only hope has a cup covering it.

“All right,” Coach Pelfrey calls after blowing the whistle. “I’ve seen enough for today. Get your sorry asses off the ice and into the showers. I need you in good shape for our game on Friday.”

Clarkson walks over to me with Alex following close behind.

“I don’t know if you’re planning on staying for long, but we’re going to Belle’s Place for something to drink later if you two want to join.

I already extended the invite to Alex. He said it’s up to you.

No pressure. Most of the guys will behave.

The other ones you’re welcome to throw drinks at.

Something tells me you can hold your own. ”

I smile. “I’ve been told that before.”

“With a brother like yours, I’m not shocked.”

He nods once more before joining his team heading in the opposite direction to the locker rooms.

I turn to Alex. “Did you want to go? I can always stay at the apartment if you—”

“Why do you do that?” he cuts me off.

“Do what?”

“Act like I want to hide you?”

I wet my lips. “It’s not that I think you do.

But they’re your teammates. And I don’t know if you’re close with any of them or want me around them.

It wouldn’t hurt my feelings. Some people like separating their personal and professional lives.

You said yourself they don’t really know much about you. ”

Alex blinks slowly. “I brought you here,” he says pointedly. “Where my team is. I didn’t do that thinking they’d be gone, you know. Just because I don’t want them to know the details of my strenuous relationship with my mother doesn’t mean I don’t want them to know about you. Or us.”

“Sure…” I sigh. “I get that. But seeing them from a distance is very different than hanging out with them around a table. It’s personal.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“If you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to go.

But I don’t mind if we do. Hell, it might be easier with you there.

I’m not any of their best friends. I get along fine with Clarkson, but that’s about it.

You’ve always been more personable. It would make things easier for me. ”

“That’s because I’m nice.”

“I’m nice,” he defends with a scowl.

I snort. Loudly. “Okay. Sure. You’re nice.”

“I am,” he insists. “I’m nice to you.”

I pat his cheek. “You are, and I really appreciate that. A lot, actually. But if you’re working with these guys, it’s probably a good idea to be nice to them too.”

He doesn’t tell me I’m right even though we both know I am. “Then let’s meet up with them. I’m sure you have people you want to talk to. I saw you staring at Nelson.”

I can’t help but grin. “His record the past three seasons is mind blowing. I’m kind of jealous you get to work with him. I’ll do my best not to fangirl, but no promises.”

He shakes his head in amusement. “Come on. We’ve got time to kill before we meet up with them. I didn’t just bring you here to meet them or drool over the trophy case.”

My brows pinch. “Then why did you bring me here?”

He slides a hand into his pocket. “You told me once you didn’t know how to skate.”

Oh. Oh. That was a long time ago. Before I told him I loved him. Before he left Lindon and got drafted. “Alex, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sebastian tried to teach me when I was little. I’m horrible. Like, really bad.”

“He gave up on you. I’m not going to.”

That does something to my heart.

He actually wants to teach me to skate. “I’m going to be terrible,” I warn him.

“Okay.”

“I’ll fall a lot.”

“I’ll get you some butt pads.”

As if I don’t have plenty of cushion already .

I don’t speak that thought aloud.

“I’ll probably take you down with me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone has” is all he says, not having a worry on his face.

Damn. Does he have to be so calm? “You’re making it hard to say no to you,” I murmur, pouting a little.

He chuckles and holds out a hand. “Then say yes. You’re here. I’m here. I reserved the space for an hour and a half. That’s not a lot of time to teach you how to stand and balance and learn the right way to fall.”

I frown. “Then what’s the point?”

His fingers tighten around mine. “It just means that next time we’ll be able to actually skate.”

Next time .

I bite back a smile.

Because I like the idea of next time.

“You’re kind of smooth when you want to be, aren’t you?”

I see the smallest smile threaten to tilt his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”