Chapter 11
Duffy
I paced outside the arena as I waited for Connor.
He still had five minutes—I was early—so I kept rotating between excitement, nervousness, and utter disbelief that I was actually getting a second chance. I mean, technically this wasn’t a “date.” This was me “using him for clout” (why did I use such a dumb expression?), but it had promise.
Which was mind-boggling, in and of itself.
He’d seriously sounded like he genuinely wanted to convince me to go on another date with him.
So I was in, right?
Only I’d failed to respond appropriately. I’d been so excited and shocked by his comment that I’d gone mute. I should’ve shouted It’s a date! or at the very least let him know I wouldn’t have to be convinced, but I hadn’t been able to make my mouth say the words.
Which left me in this weird place where he still didn’t know I definitely wanted a date, but saying it at this point felt awkward and embarrassing.
Randomly saying Hey, I changed my mind or I’m super into you so can you please ask me out again seemed like too much, at least it was for a coward like me, so I was going to hope that this hockey night would magically fix everything.
Ellie made me give up my lunch break so we could find the perfect outfit to “ensure I stay out of the friend zone.” According to her and an article (which seemed stupid and lacking in scientific evidence, in my opinion) that she shared with me from Psychology Today, the first step to avoiding the friend zone is showing intent.
Aka making an effort.
While I would’ve worn my faded old Spurgeon jersey with a pair of jeans, she’d hauled me into a sporting goods store and found an adorable cropped Wild crew neck that was so on-trend I truly didn’t think I was cool enough to wear it.
She paired it with her favorite boyfriend jeans and funky little sneakers (she ran home and fetched them for me), and suddenly I looked a little bit fashionable.
Thank you, El.
She’d found the perfect outfit to make me feel like I was trying, yet I was moderately comfortable, like I was wearing normal attire for a person catching a game with their buddies.
Just as I thought that, I saw him.
Connor was on the other side of the street, about to cross with a crowd of other people clearly headed to the game, and he was on the phone.
His face was relaxed, he was smiling, and that damn “Gimme More” song started playing in my head again like his forward motion in foot traffic was part of a slow-motion montage or something.
I watched as he crossed the street, his large body moving effortlessly in the dusky darkness of the downtown evening.
He was wearing a long-sleeved Wild T-shirt and jeans, baseball cap on backward, and it was impossible to believe someone that painfully attractive was coming over to meet up with me.
I mean, he shouldn’t look that good, right? He was technically wearing a “bro” uniform. All three of my brothers dressed exactly like that when they went out.
Somehow, though, Connor looked like a model.
It probably had something to do with his broad chest under the tee and the chiseled bone structure, not to mention the shimmering mystique of a man who was capable of catching a ball while being double-teamed, but damn.
As if hearing my thoughts, his eyes found mine.
“Listen, Brian, I’ve got to go,” he said into the phone while closing the distance between us. “I’ll catch you later.”
I wondered if that was one of his teammates, though I couldn’t think of any Coyote player with that name.
And I was very familiar with the roster.
“So hi,” he said, putting his phone into his pocket and smiling down at me.
“So hi,” I replied, feeling geekily nervous as I smiled back up at him. “I can’t believe you just walked with that clump of people and no one recognized you.”
“I’m telling you, it was us together that brought on the attention the other night,” he said. “Because of the show. I manage to blend in most of the time.”
“Sure you do,” I said as I watched a few people behind him do a double take.
“So did you pick up Dale?” he asked as we entered the building and got our tickets scanned. “Is he all in alignment now?”
“My dad got out of work early, so he grabbed the cat, thank God,” I said. “Dr. Monica—the kitty chiro—reminds me of a hippie preschool teacher. Like the woman never stops smiling while she tells you all the ways you’re making your cat stressed out, and I can’t deal with her judgment.”
“Tony likes her?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“Oh, my dad thinks she’s an oddball, but he also thinks she’s like the cat whisperer.”
“Your dad is a complicated guy, isn’t he?”
“He contains multitudes, that’s for sure,” I said with a laugh.
It was so strange, the way we chatted as we walked through the huge facility, because he felt like a friend.
It didn’t feel like it was only the third time we’d ever met in person, that was for sure.
We shared more about ourselves as we grabbed hot dogs and beers at one of the many snack stands.
He told me about how things had been going at practice, which gave me such strange insight, learning what life looked like for him on a daily basis.
I told him about my job and the exams and how I was waiting for my first set of results.
“It’s somehow not surprising that you’re a math person,” he said, reaching for his beer.
“What does that mean?” I asked around a bite of hot dog.
“I’m not exactly sure, but I think it has to do with your sense of humor. You’re smart funny, not stupid funny.”
“Oh, the compliments; how ever shall I handle all the flattery?”
“It’s a lot, I know.”
“ ‘Not stupid funny’ is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Wiseass.”
“Keep ’em coming, yes,” I teased.
“So what about your brothers—what do they do?” he asked. “Are they math people, too?”
“Those guys,” I said, rolling my eyes. “All three of them wear suits to work every day and have people who report to them; a trio of successful brainiacs. It’s super annoying.
Ty’s the VP of a consulting firm, Matty’s a data scientist, and Joe’s a developer at a start-up.
Like, how do you follow siblings who all bought their first houses before they turned thirty? ”
I took a gulp of beer to stop myself from oversharing. I’d been this close to saying I had mountains of student loan debt, which was something I definitely didn’t need to share with a millionaire.
“Yeah, but you have a really good job, too,” he said. “If the slacker in the family is a CPA, Tony knew what he was doing.”
“Not a CPA yet, and Tony doesn’t know anything—it was all my mom,” I said with a laugh. “She was a teacher who knew exactly what she was doing.”
“Also, Duffy,” he said, and sweet Jesus I like the way he says my name, “it sounds like you were the one willing to sacrifice and move in with your dad after she passed, so I don’t think you need to worry about following them at all.”
Shit. How am I supposed to deal with someone like this?!
It was too soon to be in love, yes?
Yes.
Way too soon.
But the way he seemed to remember every tiny detail I’d shared on that first date was…hell, it was really something.
We finished our food and were almost at our seats when we grabbed another beer to go from a vendor.
“Two, please,” I said, but I was in my head once we stepped up to order. Since it wasn’t a real date, I didn’t want him to feel like he had to buy my beer, but when I took out my card, he scowled at me.
“What are you doing?”
“This is called a credit card, and I use it to purchase things. Like this beer, for example. I’m going to use this card to pay for my Bud.”
I took the beer from the guy behind the counter and held out my Visa.
“I’ve got your Bud,” Connor said, sticking out his card, still giving me a grumpy face.
“But this isn’t a real date,” I said quietly. “You don’t have to buy my beer.”
“I want to buy your beer,” he said, waving his card as the beer guy—Rico, according to his name tag—just looked at us like he hated us both.
“Fine,” I said. “But then I want to buy your beer.”
“Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Just because you’re a gazillionaire doesn’t mean I don’t want to pay my share.”
A corner of his mouth kicked up a little. “You think I’m a gazillionaire?”
“I think you’re a gazillionaire so I’m using your card,” Rico said, snatching Connor’s American Express from his fingertips. He looked me in the eyes and added, “Just enjoy it while it lasts, lady.”
He tapped Connor’s card against the machine, handed it back, then said, “Good luck on Sunday, Mr. Cunningham. Their D’s pretty tough.”
“Thanks,” Connor said. “And you should listen to my buddy Rico, lady. He’s a wise man.”
“ ‘Just enjoy it while it lasts’?” I asked, giving Rico a look. “That’s the wisdom here? It sounds like your boy Rico thinks I can’t keep you.”
“I mean…” Rico said with a smirk.
Which made Connor laugh.
Which made me laugh and say, “You guys are hilarious. I’m going to go watch a hockey game while you two bond over my perceived flaws and high-five yourselves on repeat.”
I turned and took a step before I felt Connor snag one of my belt loops and tug me back toward him.
I looked over my shoulder, feeling a little…warm from the physicality.
From the way his thumb grazed the exposed skin just between my crop top and jeans.
“Wait up—I’ll be good,” he said with a mischievous pout, his teasing eyes delivering toe-curling magnetism, dear God. Something about his laid-back confidence was jarringly intimate, like he’d be all-in on anything I might suggest.
“Fine, come on,” I replied, wondering how red my face was as we started walking toward our seats.
And the more we walked, the more people noticed us. There seemed to be a general buzz as we passed, almost as if the word of Connor’s appearance was being spread just ahead of us.
My body was tense, prepared for anything, but everyone seemed to be really…nice.
No flying beer, no booing.
“Hey, Connor!” “What’s up, Cunningham?” “Nice game last weekend.” It was like he had an ice rink full of buddies as we made our way toward our seats.
And his fans had smiles for me.
It was the polar opposite of the way I’d been received post-Carl and I couldn’t quite believe it.
The puck dropped right as we got seated, and I quickly discovered Connor was the best person to watch a game with. He was over-the-top into it, but not in a way that involved angry spittle or shouting (like it sometimes did with my family).
I managed to completely forget about his fame and fans as we both got lost in the game.
“That was a fucking hit, holy shit,” he said, watching the replay of the board-check on the big screen as the first period ended.
“That guy should be in the box,” I replied with a nod. “It was a bullshit no-call.”
“Right?”
“It’s like they brought their own refs.”
“You sound exactly like Tony.” His blue eyes twinkled as he grinned down at me.
My heart stuttered as he delivered that way-too-charming smile from point-blank range. “Please don’t make me push you down when I’m just starting to get my groove back.”
“You’d Carl me?” he asked. “For comparing you to your dad?”
“Listen, I love my father, but the way he yaps at sporting events is a whole thing. I’ve spent my entire life apologizing to the people around us for his language and his ‘passion.’ ”
“What’s his go-to line?” he asked.
“Oh, he’s got a few,” I said with a grin, kind of missing my dad a little as I thought of his ridiculousness. “But his favorite is probably ‘Hey, ref, you might be able to actually see the play if your head wasn’t so far up your ass.’ ”
Connor let out a booming laugh as I held up two fingers to the beer guy coming up the steps.
“Are you going to embarrass me by paying for my beer?” he teased.
I looked up at him. “Are you going to be embarrassed by a woman paying for your beverage? Say it ain’t so, Cunningham, because that’s a red flag surrounded by a hundred red flags, buried underneath a red flag at half-mast, memorializing what a douchey red flag move it would be to care about antiquated dating conventions. ”
“Holy shit, Distefano, it was a joke,” he said, laughing and bringing his hands up in surrender. “But now I’m a little afraid of you.”
“As you should be,” I said as I paid for our beers.
It was impossible not to smile as I attempted to hand him his beer, but before he grabbed it, the smartass took a second to put both hands over his heart and say with total overexaggeration, “For me? Oh, thank you so much, woman-with-money.”
I completely forgot about our plan to “be adorable” and just had a blast taking in the game with him. Honestly, I forgot all about who he was for the entire second period as he gave me shit about, well, everything and we commiserated over the team’s failure to score.
Until the kiss cam.