“You all leave in the morning?” she says, her hand brushing down my arm.
I nod. “Seven a.m. lobby time,” I reply. “It’s back to Jax for a few days, then we’ve got back-to-back games in Texas before we head up to the Winter Classic in New York.”
“Rachel told me about it,” she replies. “The Rays got invited as a first season thing, right?”
“Yeah, we’re playing a New Year’s Eve game against the Montreal Canadiens at Yankee Stadium. It’s like an oldest and youngest League matchup thing,” I explain. “Just means we’ll get no downtime for Christmas this year.”
“Will you at least get to see your family?”
I nod. “I’ll spend two days with my mom and sister. They’ve already made plans for us to spend Christmas Day on the beach. What about you? Any big family plans?”
She hums a noncommittal sound.
I shift my hold on her waist. It’s subtle, but now I almost feel like she’s tucked under my arm. I’m touching more of her this way.
“You played well tonight,” she says, her fingers flexing softly against mine.
I don’t mind that she’s changing the subject. I’m too busy trying not to hyperfocus on the fact that I was just sucking on those fingers over by the cake table. I can still taste the frosting on my tongue. “You were watching?”
“Of course. You’re really impressive, Ryan. You may just be my favorite Ray to watch.”
The caveman in me sits up and beats his chest at being complimented by her. Not that I need her praise to know I’m talented. “Careful, Tess,” I tease. “Don’t go giving yourself away now.”
“Giving myself away?”
“Yeah. Clearly, you’ve got a crush on me.”
She scoffs. “You wish, hockey boy.”
“Admiring my skill and speed…watching my hands as I work my stick down the ice…”
She rolls her eyes.
“Can’t take your eyes off me,” I press, leaning closer. “Can’t stop that excited little fluttering of your heart each time I take a shot on goal.”
“You’re delusional,” she deadpans. But I see the little smile at the corner of her mouth.
“It’s cute, really,” I say, straightening myself out. “I’m flattered.”
“I did this to myself. Never compliment a professional athlete,” she says with a shake of her head.
“Always compliment an athlete,” I counter. “It’s the fastest way to our hearts.”
“I thought the fastest way to an athlete’s heart was food,” she teases back.
“True,” I reply. “There’s probably little I wouldn’t do for some homemade mac and cheese.”
She smiles. “Mac and cheese? Really? Are you twelve?”
“It’s the ultimate comfort food,” I reply with a shrug.
“Can I at least make it gourmet?” she asks, willing to play along. “I could get on board with a good lobster mac and cheese. Give it a little crispy panko topping…maybe a drizzle of black truffle oil—”
“Nope. Kraft blue box. Toss in some cut-up hotdogs if we’re feeling fancy.”
“You’re breaking my heart, Ryan,” she replies with a sigh. “And here I thought this was love at first sight. Your hotdogs are ruining the fantasy.”
“Ah, but you don’t believe in love at first sight,” I tease.
She glances up sharply, her hand going stiff in mine. “What makes you think that?”
“You do,” I reply, giving her hip a squeeze. “You may go around naked in other people’s houses, kissing strangers and hugging Al Pacino like an old friend, but you’re way too guarded to go falling for someone at a glance. This pretty package piqued your interest,” I add, gesturing confidently to myself. “But we’re a long way off from you confessing your undying love.”
“Oh, but you think we’re on the path?” she teases, trying to match my casual tone. “You think you’re gonna get me down the aisle, Ryan? Future Mrs. Hockey Boy?”
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
“I suppose you don’t believe in love at first sight either?”
I shrug again. “I believe people see what they want to see.” My gaze drifts left to where Compton is slow dancing with Doc. “Compton believes in love at first sight,” I say, nodding his way. “I think he took one look at Doc and just knew.”