Chapter Five
Eric couldn’t decide what was more humiliating when played back in his head: the fact that he’d basically asked Kyle out, or the efficient way Kyle had shut him down completely. Because of course he had; Eric was far too old and far too dull.
Even if the attraction was mutual, it wouldn’t be enough to make Kyle do something as ridiculous as date a man who had probably been in high school when he had been born.
Date. Jesus.
If Kyle was looking for anything from Eric—and he almost certainly wasn’t—it would be a hookup.
A one-night thing. That wasn’t normally Eric’s style, but he had been out of the dating game for so long he couldn’t honestly say what his style was, really.
Maybe he would love hookups. His teammates certainly seemed to enjoy them.
And if Eric didn’t want a one-night stand with Kyle, then what did he want? A boyfriend? No, of course not. But maybe...a friend. Eric couldn’t deny how lonely he’d been, beyond the time he spent with his teammates, especially these past few months.
He put these thoughts away as he entered Jeanette’s gallery. He wanted a clear head when he viewed the paintings.
Jeanette was on her phone when Eric walked in. She waved at him, then held up a finger. He nodded and used the time to remove his gloves and shake off the cold. A minute later she was walking briskly over to him.
“Eric!” She embraced him quickly, then stood back to inspect him. “You get more handsome every time I see you. Tell me you’re seeing someone.”
“No one.”
She clucked her tongue. “What a waste. Have you made any new prints lately? I think the last ones I saw were from Wales.”
“No, I don’t have much time for photography during the hockey season.
” Eric had been dabbling in photography for years.
He’d splurged on a professional-quality camera and had spent much of his off-season traveling and taking photos.
He was hardly an artist, but he believed he had a good eye, benefiting from the same attention to detail that helped him on the ice.
“Your talents are being wasted,” Jeanette sighed.
Eric chuckled at that. “Some people think my greater talent is goaltending.”
“Fools.” Jeanette flipped her hand in a gesture that invited him to follow her. “Come. The paintings are in the other room.”
“Young artist?” Eric asked as he followed her.
“Actually, no. The artist is in his fifties, but he’s new to the art world.” She nudged him. “You can become an artist at any age, Eric.”
“Noted.”
“He was a power line technician, if you can believe it.”
“That would give you a different perspective of the world, I guess. Is he American?”
“Swedish.” They entered the second room, which had some canvases tilted against walls, waiting to be hung. But Jeanette led him to the far wall, which had four smaller paintings installed. “He does abstract landscapes, and I know you’re going to see right away how special his work is.”
Eric studied the four paintings. They were stunning, mostly dark tones with pops of lighter colors like yellow and green. They were almost purely abstract, but with enough structure to suggest a landscape. “They’re beautiful,” he said.
“Aren’t they? But this is the one I really want you to see.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and turned him to face the wall behind him. It had a larger canvas with a cloth draped over it. “Prepare to fall in love,” she said, then removed the cloth.
Eric nearly gasped. This painting was an intense surge of blue and black that seemed determined to pull him into its depths. “Wow.”
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?”
“I can’t look away.”
She touched his arm. “I’ll leave you alone with it for a bit. I need to make a call. I’ll warn you, though, that I have another interested—”
“I’m buying it,” Eric said, his gaze still locked on the painting. “I know exactly where to hang it. It’s perfect.”
“Wonderful. The exhibit will run until January, but after that it’s yours.”
Eric couldn’t help but wonder, as he stood alone in the gallery, what Kyle would have thought of the paintings.
He barely knew the man, and had never much cared about getting a second opinion on the art he’d purchased in the past, but he found himself wishing Kyle were here now.
Would Kyle have gasped when the painting had been revealed?
Would he be standing close enough to Eric that their arms might accidentally brush together?
Would he say something flirty and playful that would make Eric’s blood fizz?
God, why was Eric so enchanted by him? Maybe it was a midlife crisis thing.
He was turning forty-one next week, which was basically a hundred in hockey years.
It had felt weird, last year, turning forty right after he and Holly had split up.
Forty was a milestone, but he hadn’t felt much like partying.
His friends had made an effort, but when a buddy is depressed about a break-up and doesn’t drink, hockey players generally aren’t sure what to do with him.
So Scott and Carter had suffered through what must have been a very boring and sad birthday dinner with Eric at his favorite Indian restaurant.
He didn’t expect his forty-first birthday to be much better. He wasn’t miserable about the divorce anymore, but he was lonely, and anxious about the impending curtain drop on his career.
Also, it had been over a year of celibacy. Even with his relatively quiet libido, he was feeling the ache. The need for human touch—a kiss, a caress, anything. Someone to travel with or, hell, watch a movie with.
Someone to visit galleries and museums with. Someone with a bewitching smile and faded denim eyes.
Eric spent a few more minutes with his painting, pleased that he’d been able to obtain at least one beautiful thing he’d desired this week.
Kyle was on the couch watching Guy’s Grocery Games when Maria emerged from her bedroom on Thanksgiving morning.
“Uh oh. A Triple G emergency,” she said. “Did your parents call or something?”
Kyle shrugged and pretended to be engrossed in someone trying to make a Thanksgiving dinner using just items from the cereal aisle.
The only reason he was out of bed right now was because he’d been jolted awake by his mother calling him.
The obligatory Thanksgiving phone call. As usual, it had been stiff and awkward, with Mom asking basic questions about school and the weather, and Kyle answering them without any enthusiasm.
He used to be desperate to hear from his parents, hope blooming in his chest each time they called that this would be the time they would.
..forgive him? Apologize? Listen? And then Kyle had just stopped caring.
But the phone calls still unearthed all sorts of unpleasant feelings.
Maria joined him on the couch. “Sorry,” she said.
“Thanks.” He didn’t need to say more. Maria had heard it all before.
“Good thing you get to go to the best Thanksgiving ever today,” she said cheerfully.
Kyle’s lips curved up at that. The Villanuevas really did host the best Thanksgiving dinners. “I’m going to eat until I explode.”
“That’s the spirit!”
He snuggled into her and they watched the rest of the show together. When it was over, Kyle said, “I want to change my whole life.”
“Wow. I know Guy’s Grocery Games is inspiring, but—”
“I’m serious. What even is my life? I’m working on a degree I don’t even want. I have a crush on my unavailable best friend. I haven’t been in a good relationship...ever?”
“Okay, but let’s look at the positives.”
“Like what? I work in a bar?”
“I mean, sure. You have a job you don’t hate. That’s a big deal!”
“I kind of hate it. Sometimes.” He actually loved his job. It was easily his favorite thing about his life. He just got so frustrated at how the Kingfisher was run sometimes.
“Still better than most people. And you have great friends, including a dream roommate.”
Kyle smiled. “True. Continue.”
“You hang out with NHL players.”
“Sure. Okay.”
“You may be relying on your parents’ generosity, but you have a two-bedroom apartment in Chelsea, dude. That’s pretty sweet.”
“I know. Fuck, I know. I’m really fucking privileged and it’s horrible for me to complain.” God, it was gross for Kyle to whine about his life to someone who was in school to learn how to help some of the most disadvantaged people in New York. Maria was a better person than he’d ever be.
“It’s okay to complain, but we’re being positive right now. Which brings me to my next point: you’re totally hot. You just need to focus that hotness on the right man.”
“Great. If someone wants to tell me who the right man is, I will happily ensnare him.”
She put both hands on his shoulders and stared hard into his eyes. “Not. Kip.”
“I’m trying, okay? I’m...almost over him.”
“You know what would help? A man who isn’t Kip.”
“I know.”
She poked his arm. “You know, Rafael is going to be at my parents’ today. I think he’s still single.”
“Uh huh. Is he still exclusively into bears?”
Her brows pinched. “Raf is into bears?”
“Yes. Remember the last time you tried to set me up with him? Was it your dad’s birthday party? He let me down easy, but I am not going to be trying that again.” It was too bad. Maria’s cousin was hot.
“Okay. So not Raf. But maybe Raf has a friend who—”
“Stop. Please. Thanksgiving is not a time for seduction anyway. It’s a time to eat a ridiculous amount of food and then collapse on the couch.”
Maria snapped her waistband. “I’ve got my stretchiest pants on. I’m ready.”
“Hot.”
A new episode of Guy’s Grocery Games had started. They watched in silence for a moment, and then Maria said, “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I watched a minute of this episode.”
Kyle grinned, realizing the problem. “Well, we’re invested now.”
“Yep. Gotta watch the whole thing.” She leaned against him, curling her legs on the couch.
“Should I get snacks?”
“No! It’s Thanksgiving. You can’t pregame Thanksgiving!”