Chapter One #2
I’m still trying to place him. Where do I know him from?
Margot’s snotty voice from behind reminds me that yes, there really are terrible people in the real world, and not just on Twitter.
“You are dating the star of the Chicago Comets.” There’s an insulting amount of disbelief in her voice, but I can’t even be offended because I’m equally shocked by this turn of events.
It clicks. The Chicago Comets.
Dallas Burke is a hockey player.
I think he’d been in the news recently, but I can’t for the life of me remember why. At this moment I can’t even remember my own name. I don’t follow sports, especially not hockey. I don’t even know the rules of the game.
Dallas slides his credit card into his wallet and tucks it in his back pocket. I wish I was that wallet right now.
“Is this for real?” she chirps.
“Oh, it’s for real. . .” His arm is back around my shoulder, pulling me closer into him. He smells like a forest and I want to get lost in the woods. He studies Margot. “I’m so sorry, what was your name again?”
It’s an honest question, but the look on Margot’s face tells me it felt like a burn.
Good. I shouldn’t relish that fact, but I do. Just a little. Or a lot.
“Margot Richards.”
“Good to meet you, Margot, but we should go. Busy day.”
Margot’s eyes narrow. Dallas flashes a smile. I’m a statue afraid if I move I’ll wake up from this pine-scented fantasy.
Margot turns her attention back to me. “So, we’ll see you both at the Festival of Hearts then?”
Dallas answers for me. “We’ll be there.”
She looks incredulous. “I find it hard to believe a big hockey star like yourself wants to spend the week of Valentine’s Day at some festival in our little town,” Margot says.
Dallas puts both his hands on my shoulders and says, “I want to spend Valentine’s Day making my girlfriend happy.” I look up at him, and he looks down at me, and I swear there is a moment. He tilts his head, almost imperceptibly, as if considering it for real.
A moment.
The moment’s gone, quick as a rumor, and he says, “So, I’ll do whatever she wants to make that happen.” His hands slide all the way down to mine, so slowly it sets off a chain reaction inside my body.
And then he’s standing next to me holding my hand.
I let out three quick, sharp, high-pitched sounds that can only be described as a “titter.”
Margot eyes me, suspicion on her face, then finally turns on her heel and walks away.
I guess she didn’t want coffee after all.
Dallas is still holding my hand when the barista slides our drinks across the counter. We each pick up our cups with our free hands, and then he leans toward me. “Is she gone?”
I peek back just in time to see Margot’s blond head disappear out the door. I let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, thank God.” A pause. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
“No big deal.” He waves me off like he didn’t just save me from utter humiliation. “Besides, it’s been a long time since someone called me ‘Sugar Bear.’”
I groan.
“You know that’s not an acceptable nickname for a grown man, right?”
“But ‘Pops’ is perfectly fine for a grown woman?” I smile at him, some of the embarrassment starting to wane. “Sorry. I panicked. I froze. I owe you big time. How can I return the favor?” I glance down and realize he’s still holding my hand. When I do, he slowly lets it go.
Darn my eyeballs for zeroing in.
“No need,” he says. “I was happy to help.” He grabs the bag of food he ordered.
I stare at him, mostly because I still can’t believe he’s real. Or that anyone looks this good in person.
I always wondered how I’d act if I ever met a celebrity. Now I know.
Mouth agape. Stuttering for words. Making a fool of myself. And I’m not even really a fan.
I stand awkwardly, clinging to my mocha like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
Dallas looks around the coffee shop. I’m thankful there aren’t many people here today and curious what he’s doing in town, but it’s none of my business.
“I should probably go.”
What? Why did I say that? I don’t want to go!
I want to stand and stare. And I do, until, “Oh, shoot.”
“What?” He seems legitimately interested.
“The Festival of Hearts. You said you’d go, but you obviously aren’t going to do that, so don’t worry, I’ll make up something.”
He looks at me and I just keep right on talking.
“I’ll tell everyone you let me down easy, or it didn’t work out, or whatever. I won’t make you sound like a jerk or anything.” I try to smile. I wonder if it’s as weak as it feels.
“Why don’t you tell them you let me down easy?” He smiles. I hear an angel getting its wings, I swear it.
“Ha. That’s funny.” I’m staring again. In an effort to stop, I say the only thing that comes to my mind.
“Poppy.”
His expression turns quizzical.
“My name, it’s my name, it’s what people call me, it’s. . .” I shake my head to stop talking, and stick out my hand for him to shake. “Poppy Hart.”
I’m wholly unprepared for the zinger that shoots through me when he takes my hand in his.
Is this lust? Am I going to have to repent? How many deadly sins am I committing?
“It’s good to meet you, Poppy Hart,” he says.
“Good to meet you, Dallas Burke.” I’m certain my smile pales in comparison to his. Margot was right to be gobsmacked by the whole idea that I even have a boyfriend, especially after the embarrassment of my last relationship. But Dallas Burke? Ludicrous.
I can’t believe I’m standing here talking to one of the most successful professional athletes of our generation.
And he’s not running away.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” He grins.
“Sure I do.” I smile back. “You’re the star of the Chicago Comets.”
“Do you know what sport that is?”
“Um. . .ice dancing?”
He laughs. I find myself wanting to make him do that more.
“Thanks again for the save,” I say.
He nods at me. And as much as I wish he’d ask me to stay and drink coffee with him for as long as we both shall live, I know this surreal interaction is all I’m going to get.
I smile again, wave, and turn to go, bumping into a rack of granola bars as I do.
I slowly turn back to look, and yep, he’s totally standing there, still watching me.
Solid.
Not exactly the impression I was hoping for, but hey, at least I’d made myself hard to forget.
For once.
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