From Fling to Ring: A Hockey Romance (The San Francisco Aftershocks)

Chapter 27

LUCY

“This place is great.Do you come to brunch here a lot?”

Without waiting for Tyler’s answer, I dive into my chocolate chip blueberry pancakes, moaning over their calorie-laden deliciousness.

Seriously, if this were to be my last meal, I’d be perfectly happy.

Tyler points at my chin and comes at me with his napkin. “Uh, Lucy, you got a little butter...”

I swipe a finger across my chin and lick it clean. “All good.”

He raises an eyebrow.

I know what he’s thinking, so I throw him my best dirty look. “What? So I’m hungry.” I wash down my next bite with freshly squeezed OJ.

Heaven. Pure heaven.

Tyler tilts his head and one corner of his mouth crooks up. “You have no idea how much I enjoy seeing you enjoy your food.”

Didn’t know I was so obvious. I force myself to set my fork down for a break. My stomach already feels like it’s loaded with lead, but who can turn their back on chocolate chip blueberry pancakes?

Not me.

I’ll keep eating the damn things until my plate is cleaned, stomachache be damned.

“The other women you date, what do they eat?” I ask, popping a wayward blueberry into my mouth.

He wrinkles his face as he thinks. “Salad with no dressing. The occasional piece of low-carb bread.”

I burst out laughing. “No way.”

He nods. “I am not kidding. It’s so fucking weird. So anyway, what did you think of the party last night?”

“Oh, it was great. You know, I mostly hung out with the girls, except for when I had to chase that awful woman away, the one with the accent like Count Dracula. Seriously, you should have seen her eye-fucking you. I’m surprised she didn’t bend over the buffet table, lift her dress, and ask you to do her from behind.”

Tyler covers his mouth just in time to laugh. “Damn. You almost made me spit my eggs out.”

This time, I reach to wipe the corner of his mouth.

“It was lots of fun. Even though you made me leave early.” I throw him a flirty smile.

He shrugs. “I didn’t hear you protesting, especially when we were in the backseat of my car.”

Heat blasts over my face and dammit, I’m blushing. I hate that. “You are right, there were no protests coming from me. And I was thinking… maybe we should do that again. Like, soon.”

He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “I think we better not have this conversation right now.”

I lean over the table. “Oh my God. Are you getting a hard-on?” I whisper. “Right in the middle of a brunch place?”

He looks from side to side. “Can you please be quiet?” he hisses, trying not to laugh.

I put on my best mean-teacher face. “That’s nasty, Tyler. There are children in this restaurant. Children whose parents don’t want their kids exposed to some dude who can’t keep his dick under control?—”

“Oh my God, stop,” he groans.

“They don’t care that you’re some hockey-playing hotshot, honey. Not when you’re about to whip it out in a crowded restaurant and give yourself a little relief.”

Holy shit. I am on a roll. Who knew tormenting this guy would be so much fun?

I mean, wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

He closes his eyes and sighs, then leans closer, as close as he can get without dipping his T-shirt in his eggs. “For what it’s worth, any erection I had is now gone. Long gone.”

I swipe my hand across my forehead in a dramatic move. “Ohthankgod. I thought for real that I might have to be bailing you out of jail. And I have a busy day ahead, so I really don’t have time for that shit. Plus, I don’t have the cash anyway. You’d be totally screwed unless someone from the team came to your aid. And I don’t suppose you’d want them to know about your little… problem.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I give up.”

I am so winning, here.

“Oh, Tyler, thank you again for the dress. Or should I be thanking Ruby? Anyway, I’ve never worn anything so beautiful, although you did get a little… you know, on it. That’s okay, though, because I have a great dry cleaner near me who I’m pretty sure specializes in removing bodily fluids, at least that’s what the sign in his window says?—”

“Well! Look who it is!”

Oh no. Just, no.

“Hello, Iris,” I say with fake perkiness.

A huge smile stretches across the face of my new literary agent, a supposed old friend of Michaela’s, which I find suspect because she’s annoying as hell and my boss is anything but.

She looks at Tyler, then back to me.

Right. Introduction time.

“Iris Diamond, this is Tyler Brooks.”

Please don’t say anything about the book. Please.

She gushes over Tyler like I knew she would and turns back to me. “Lucy, I’m so glad we had coffee the other day because now I can’t wait to move forward on our project. It’s going to be a-ma-zing!”

“I’m excited too, Iris.” I look down at my pancakes, hoping she’ll take the hint and beat it.

But she just turns to Tyler. “I can tell you, you’ve got a good one here,” she says gesturing at me. “You two are just so cute together.”

Oh my God. Please go. Please go now.

If she starts blabbing about my book, everything will go to absolute shit. But she wouldn’t do that.

Right?

“So, Lucy, you doing some good research, huh?” she says, flicking her gaze in Tyler’s direction.

Jesus. Could she be more indiscrete?

“Totally, Iris. Hey, when do we meet next?”

She pulls her phone from her designer handbag and scrolls. “Here we go. Two weeks from Wednesday. That still good for you?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Perfect. I’ll see you then, Iris, okay?”

Her smile starts to droop but she catches it like the savvy businesswoman she is when she finally takes my hint. “Right. Right. See you then, Lucy. And so nice to meet you, Tyler.”

And she’s gone. Thank fucking God.

She nearly blew my cover. The cover I’m supposedly using to appear excited about dating, the cover allowing me to study up close and personal a certain type of man who should be avoided by all women.

Supposedly.

We won’t get into the sex part. Which is also part of the research.

No one can say I’m not thorough.

Problem is, I can’t say I’ve made much progress. Tyler’s a nice guy, completely lacking in the asshole qualities I was so looking forward to reporting on. In fact, no one can be as perfect as he seems. There’s got to be a way to trip him up, to get him to reveal who he really is. He’s got to be a serial cheater, indifferent to homeless people, or unwilling to give up his seat to pregnant ladies on public transit.

Like he takes the city bus.

I’ve tried to identify his shadow side, I really have. In fact, I almost blew it, trying to bait him with the idea of seeing other women rather than being exclusive with me. I expected him to jump at the opportunity, leaving him relieved he was finally dating a woman who ‘got him,’ one who really understood his needs and how at this stage in his life, he can’t limit himself to just one sexual outlet. I was ready for that, I really was, all geared up to bolt home to start typing up my masterpiece on creepy men.

A lot of good that approach did me. I all but insulted the guy, who further buried my hypothesis that he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He handled our awkward situation with more maturity and finesse than I ever could have.

Damn him. Just damn him.

The worst of it is that when I’m done with my research and the book as a whole, I won’t be able to continue dating him. To do so would completely destroy my credibility.

What kind of player-resister am I if I succumb to the charms of the very man who inspired my book?

“Lucy, who was that woman, Iris Diamond? Cool name, by the way,” Tyler asks.

“Iris Diamond is my literary agent. You know, for the book I’m working on. Just met her for the first time last week. She’s one of those people who acts like you’re BFFs after one meeting.”

He nods. “Why was she so weird, looking at me and stuff?”

I widen my eyes and shrug. “Maybe she thought you were hot or something. I mean, you kind of are.”

He chuckles. “Kind of hot, you say. Not straight up hot, but just kind of hot. You really know how to make a guy feel good, don’t ya?”

I throw my arms up in the air. “Okay. You’re full-on hot. Does that make you happy?”

He waves me off. “Nah, I’m good with being just kind-of hot. I think that’s the best I can aspire to. I’m happy with it. I am.” He crunches his last piece of bacon.

Shit. He’s nice and has a good sense of humor.

Is it too late to find another player to study? Someone else to start hanging out with, whose behavior I can study like some sort of wanna-be Margaret Mead cultural anthropologist?

I’m getting in deep here, too deep. I know it. I need to find a way to keep my distance, yet still keep access.

Even though, so far, I’ve turned up exactly nothing that can be used for my book.

He’s not turning out to be what I expected, that’s for sure. It’s not fair. Good-looking, successful, and a decent human being?

Such. Bullshit.

I want to be mad and resentful he got more than his share of breaks from the universe.

But I’m not and I can’t.

And I know I’m in big trouble.