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Chapter Three

ZACH

T he sighs escaping Ashleigh’s parted lips as she glances at the Christmas lights of the 19th century homes have me trying to think of anything except what kind of sounds she’d be making if we were naked.

I’m failing at blocking out that thought, however, which makes me feel like an asshole. I can’t help how attracted I am to her—I mean, besides the fact that she’s gorgeous with that light brown hair, those blue-green kaleidoscope eyes, and her killer legs…she loves Star Trek as much as I do.

But, I’m confident she did not agree to show me one of her favorite places in Seattle because she wants to sleep with me.

“The viewing area is right there,” she says as she points to a grassy patch along the sidewalk. “We just need to find a place to park.”

I glance over where she’s pointing, surprised the viewing area is right off the road and that there are still people milling around, even at this time of night.

She eases her car into an open parking spot on the side of the road. “You really don’t need a jacket?” She asks as she unbuckles her seatbelt and zips up her jacket over the leggings and sweatshirt she changed into before we left the diner.

“I run hot,” I say. “I grew up in Canada, so this isn’t even close to cold.” As we get out of the car and walk the block back to the park, I tell her a little bit about Toronto.

“It’s a great city—” My jaw falls open when we pass the last house leading up to the park, and Seattle’s skyline comes into view. It’s not only the buildings glowing in the darkness, or the Space Needle with its twinkling lights in the shape of a white Christmas tree, or the bay spreading out at the edge of the city—it’s the expanse of darkness on the other side that allows the skyline to shine in a way that leaves me almost speechless. “Wow…this view is spectacular.”

“You should see it at sunset,” Ashleigh says as we approach the railings at the edge of the viewing area. She steps slightly in front of me, and points to the right of the buildings where I’d noticed the darkness. “That’s Mt. Rainier,” she says, and I dip my head lower so I can see exactly where she’s pointing. But that’s a big mistake because the air is filled with the scent of her hair, and the tropical smell has me imagining us on a beach with very little clothing on. I need to get a hold of myself, because my body is reacting to hers in unexpected ways. “And at sunset, the sky gets an orangey purple hue and the white cap of the mountain glows against it, and it’s just stunning beyond the lights of the city.”

“I’d like to see that someday,” I say and sense her stiffen, as if she hadn’t realized I was this close. I stand up fully so I’m not crowding her, but I don’t step away.

“You should come back tomorrow at sunset,” she says, her voice low.

“Can’t. I’ll be working.” Part of me wants to tell her what my job is, but the other part wants to know that she could be interested in me for something besides the fact that I’m a professional hockey player.

I’m probably jaded because I’ve dated so many women who were in it for the money or the fame, but it becomes real hard to know if someone likes you for you, or if it’s because of what you could give them with a professional athlete’s salary.

“I guess you’ll have to visit Seattle again another time.”

“Will you be my tour guide again if I do?”

I watch her throat bob as I stare down at her, unable to tear my eyes away despite the amazing view in front of me. “Sure.” The word is not even remotely convincing, so I use the tip of my pointer finger to gently turn her face so she’s looking up at me over her shoulder.

“That sounded like a big ol’ lie. I thought we were friends.”

“ You said we were friends. I never agreed to that.” Her smile is weak, but her voice is flirtatious. “And I might be moving soon.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you headed?”

“I’m going to grad school.”

“Mid-year?”

“Maybe. I was supposed to start this fall, but I had a family emergency.”

I have so many questions. “Everything okay?”

She sighs and turns her head forward, looking out at the city. “Yeah, it is now. My uncle has been like a father to me, and he was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes last spring. He was really sick, and getting his diet under control and his medications working right were a top priority. There was no one else to help take care of him but me. So I deferred.”

“He’s doing better now, though?”

“Yeah, he’s stabilized. And the diner made it through the summer even when he couldn’t be there, but now he’s mostly back to work.”

“He owns the diner where you work?”

“I don’t work there,” she says.

I can’t help but laugh. “All evidence to the contrary.”

“I just came in tonight because your waitress’s kid got sick and she had to go home. She texted me in a panic so I filled in for her. Usually when I’m there, I’m helping my uncle with payroll, scheduling, supply orders—that type of thing. But I used to waitress there in high school and summers during college.”

“I’m glad you were there tonight,” I say, right as a shiver runs through her. “You cold?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be standing around outside tonight, so I didn’t bring a heavy coat.”

I glance down at the lightweight down jacket she’s wearing. “You’re welcome to my body heat, if you want it.”

For a moment she stands there frozen, but eventually she leans back against me. When I wrap my arms around the front of her where she’s folded her arms across her chest, she sighs. “You weren’t kidding about running hot.”

A small laugh rattles my chest. She has no idea what her proximity is doing to me right now.

“This view—” My words ruffle her hair as my breath skims across the top of her head, and she shivers in my arms. “—reminds me a tiny bit of home.”

“Yeah?”

“My mom is a professor at the Ontario College of Art and Design, so growing up we lived right there. If you’re standing at the main building on campus, you have an amazing view of the CN Tower, but you get views more like this one from some of the parks along the waterfront.”

“Hmmm.” Her ribcage vibrates along my abdomen, and with her body pressed up against mine she’s about to find out just how much that sensation, with her in my arms, turns me on. “What’s your mom teach?”

“Sculpture. She specializes in metal and bronze.”

“Oh! Did you notice the Changing Form sculpture?” she asks as she turns, pulling away from me, and points to a steel sculpture several yards to our left.

“I didn’t,” I tell her. I’d been so focused on the view as we approached that I hadn’t noticed the big circular brick steps leading up to the rectangular metal base of the statue. It’s mostly open with big circular cutouts, but the top piece of the statue is cylindrical. “Why’s it called Changing Form?”

She grabs my forearm, and tugs me toward the statue, explaining the top part was originally movable, so the sculpture could change form, but it ended up being welded together for safety reasons. “Its other name,” Ashleigh says, “is the Kinetic and Volumetric Space Frame, which makes my physics-loving heart happy.”

“Your heart loves physics?”

“My bachelor’s degree is in Aeronautical & Astronautical Engineering.”

“That’s amazing,” I say as we take the steps up to the statue. “And I’m a little intimidated, to be honest.”

She lets out a small laugh and says, “I get that a lot.”

I run my hand along the smooth frame of the statue. “My mom would love this,” I tell her.

“Here,” she says, digging her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll take a picture of you with it so you can send it to her.”

“Alright,” I say, stepping inside the base of the frame. Even though I hate having my photo taken, my mom will love this and it’s thoughtful of Ashleigh to suggest it. I turn and grip the sides of the oval cutout, smiling right as her flash nearly blinds me. “And now I’m seeing spots,” I mutter.

“But it was worth it, because look…” she says, handing me her phone.

The picture is terrible. The light reflects off the statue so you can’t really tell what it looks like, but I’m front and center smiling, and my mom will love that. “It’s perfect.” I use her phone to take a photo of the statue by itself, and with the light from the city behind me the statue sort of glows.

“Can I send these to myself?”

As a general rule, I never give my phone number to women. For obvious reasons, I communicate strictly on a DM basis on social media. But I don’t want to explain that to Ashleigh, so when she takes her phone and opens a new text message and hands it back to me, I try not to consider that I’m breaking this rule for her.

Instead, I type in my number, attach the photos, and send. Then I hand her phone back to her, pull my own phone out, and respond to the message.

Zach:

Hey, it’s Zach.

Ashleigh:

Oh, so you have a name?

I glance over at her. “I didn’t tell you my name?”

“Nope.” She holds up her phone so I can see the contact info she must have saved the second I handed the phone back.

First name: Star Trek .

Last name: Guy .

“You could change it, you know,” I say.

“Nah. It fits.”

We walk down the steps and back toward the railing of the viewing area nearer the city. “I’m going to name you Ashleigh Seattle, then.”

“I bet your contacts are full of girls with first names and the last name is just the city where you met them.” That comment gives me pause, but I guess anyone who travels for work could use that strategy—it doesn’t mean she knows I’m a professional athlete.

I hit “save” on her contact info, then go back to the screen with my complete list of contacts. I hold up the phone so she can see.

“You have like eight contacts. Is this a new phone or something?”

“No. As a rule, I don’t give my number out to people.”

She eyes me skeptically, one light eyebrow lifting higher than the other. “You gave it to me.”

“Yeah, well…you felt worth breaking my rule for.”

“Zach,” she says my name on an exhale, and pauses, her eyes locked on mine. I step toward her, noticing for the first time that she has some barely visible freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, but I want to know you.” I have no idea why I’m being so honest with her right now, except that this is the first time since I’ve been in the NHL that I’ve met someone who I feel like I could really connect with. It’s not just Star Trek or that she knows a thing or two about hockey, it’s also the way she deferred grad school to take care of her uncle, and her interest in science. I’m fascinated by her brain and her big heart, not just her body…though I’d like to get to know that part of her better, too.