Page 55 of Something to Prove
Walker’s smile was soft and oddly tender. “Through hockey.”
“The details are fuzzy, but…yeah. And I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. I guess I’m saying that hockey is more than an escape for me. It’s a foundation.”
He set the pizza crust he’d been nibbling on his plate. “I understand. Journalism is mine. Theoretically, hockey should be too, but I don’t think I inherited that DNA. Or maybe I’m subconsciously resisting it because I associate the sport with abandonment issues.”
Walker’s tone was light, but there was an opening there. I could ask what happened to Ketchum Clomsky. And damn, I was curious. How had an NHL giant faded to obscurity without anyone noticing?
My gut told me this wasn’t the right time.
I ran my thumb through the condensation on my glass, studying my “date.” Under his artfully mussed hair and pressed button-down shirt, Walker was a warrior. I admired him, and I felt small and petty for ever doubting his integrity.
“You’re a good guy, Red.”
His lips curled in amusement. “Don’t call me Red.”
“Oh, c’mon, it’s perfect,” I cajoled. “There was a kid I played hockey with in elementary school who had auburn hair. I swore his last name was Strawberry, but it turned out that was a nickname he earned because he loved them so much that his lips and tongue were always red and he smelled like Strawberry Shortcake.”
Walker snickered. “That’s not so bad.”
“Not at all. I had a teammate in juniors who drank Coke all day, starting first thing in the morning.”
“Gross.”
“He smelled like Coke too, and yeah, he won every belching contest…hands down.”
“What does that have to do with you calling me Red?”
“I have no idea.”
Walker burst into laughter. “I didn’t think so.”
I made a face that sent him into a state of hilarity. His eyes crinkled and his cheeks went pink. It was cute. Which was funny ’cause Walker wasn’t cute—he was sophisticated and elegant and handsome and?—
Fuck.
I reached for my glass to hide my bewildered smile.
“Hey, I don’t know about you, but I think our date is going pretty fucking well,” I whispered.
Walker’s answering grin was blinding. “I do too.”
I blinked, suddenly feeling dizzy. If I wasn’t careful, I’d do something stupid…like link our fingers on the tabletop and gaze into his eyes and?—
Nope. Not happening. This was casual, remember?
“Want to get the fuck out of here?”
CHAPTER 17
WALKER
A few headsturned on our way to the exit. Ty paused to greet a classmate and got stuck talking about the upcoming Trinity game with a local fan. I continued to the parking lot without him. That was okay. He knew where to find me.
I fed Mabel and, on a whim, stripped to my birthday suit. My poor cat meowed as if confused and possibly mortified on my behalf, but she was a judgy thing who didn’t know the first thing about tackling a tedious row of buttons.
When I opened my door for Ty a few minutes later, I knew I’d been right to trust my gut.
He gaped. “Damn, you’re fucking beautiful.”