Page 11

"I’m kind of like Clark Kent, except I actually need the glasses to see."

Beth Bowen

“So,” I begin, “you’re not half bad at poker.

I guess it’s the many years of experience,” I say, unable to stay silent as we step into James’ extravagant car—the thing is pretty much a Batmobile.

All that aside, it’s better that I control the conversation than leave it to James and his flirty comments.

He chuckles, starting the engine. “That, and also pure, raw talent.”

I roll my eyes, but a giggle escapes me. Really? “Anyway, it’s good that you take time to come and see them. They seem to care for you deeply.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” he says, backing out of his parking spot. “They’ve been a great support system ever since Grandma died. I love visiting them. Brings me out of my world, you know?”

“Yeah,” I say, studying him from the corner of my eye. I feel like I just stumbled on a new piece of the James Adler puzzle. “But I thought you loved your world. Being a pro athlete is a dream for a lot of people. It’s great that you get to live it.”

He adjusts his hands on the wheel. “It is. I love it, but it’s also nice to talk about something other than hockey once in a while, you know?”

I nod, though to be honest, I’m a little surprised. Hockey was all Lucas ever talked about. And even though I’m sure Caleb, Max, and Aaron have interests beyond the rink, I mostly just hear them talk about hockey when they’re together.

“Speaking of poker, you were pretty good yourself,” he says. “I’m guessing you’ve played a lot before?”

I smile, remembering our heated family games. “Yep. My grandma, as you saw, is a fierce player. She passed all her card skills on to me. We used to hav e a family game night every week.”

“You don’t have them anymore?”

I shake my head. “We’re all busy with work, and our schedules usually conflict.

So it’s hard to get together as often as we used to.

I see my parents maybe twice a month, even though they’re right here in New York.

As for Grandma, well, I think I might start seeing her more often.

I’m trying to find a place near the coffee shop, and that’ll put me close to the home as well. ”

“Oh, you’re looking for an apartment?”

“What, you thought I’d be bunking with Marissa and Aaron for the rest of my life?” I say with a chuckle. “I do think they want kids, but they’re probably hoping for a cute little baby, not a grown woman.”

He snorts a laugh. “Right. So, have you found anything yet?”

“Honestly, no.” I sigh. “The market is super saturated here, but I did set up notification alerts on all the real estate websites, so fingers crossed that I’ll find something soon.”

“Well, if Miles and Marissa ever get tired of you, you can always stay with me, Elizabeth,” he offers again.

I’m about to roll my eyes and throw back a snarky retort. But when he glances my way, the look in his eyes is neither playful nor flirty. More like dead s erious. And extremely sexy.

“I mean it. You’re welcome anytime. I have three extra bedrooms.”

I swallow hard, staring at my lap. The tension in the car thickens, and I need to say something before I burst into flames. “So, you wear glasses? I never noticed that before.”

He shifts in his seat. “You’ve mostly only seen my public persona. I play hockey with contact lenses. I’m kind of like Clark Kent, except I actually need the glasses to see.” He chuckles. “And I don’t have heat vision.”

Oh, I beg to differ.

Before long, we arrive at the apartment building we both call home. James parks out front, and we get out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as we walk toward the front door.

“My pleasure. Let me know when you want to go back. Maybe we could go together?”

I cock my head to the side. “Don’t you have away games coming up soon?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Look who’s following my schedule now.”

“I’m following the Raptors’ schedule,” I clarify, shaking my head. “I am living with one, after all.”

“Right. Well, we’re free tomo rrow. After that, it’s our last home game before a week on the road. But I’ll probably swing by Golden Age the day after.”

“Okay, then yeah, maybe we can go together.”

He flashes his signature bright smile as we file into the elevator. The space feels small—way too small—and I struggle to take my next breath.

“This is you,” he says, stepping out of the elevator once we reach my floor. “Have a good night, Elizabeth.”

His eyes capture me, and a smile pulls at my lips. “Thanks, you too.”

“Oh, by the way,” he says, holding the elevator door open. “What color is it today?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Is it the satin purple one?” he continues, stepping into the elevator. “Because that one’s a winner.”

Realization hits me, and my mouth drops. “James! You’re—this is—” I stammer, my cheeks on fire.

“Fine,” he sighs, but his lips are twitching. “Don’t tell me. My imagination will fill in the blanks. Like it always does.”

The door closes on his smirk, and I stand frozen on the threshold, unable to move my feet as I try to process everything that happened today.

From the surprise of seeing him at the nursing home to the car ride, and now him betting on the color of my underwear .

Glancing around to make sure no one is looking, I tug at the hem of my jeans to check.

My cheeks burn up when I realize he was right.