Chapter Eighteen
Joslyn
We arrive at Damon’s building, and I’m finally starting to feel like I’m not a complete wreck.
He parks the car in the underground garage, and we head over to the elevator.
He has to swipe his card to get to his floor.
It gives me peace of mind to know it’s a secure building.
The elevator takes us to the top floor, which is a surprise because he doesn’t seem like the penthouse type.
The hallway outside the elevator has only two doors, and we head to the one on the right, his hand at the small of my back.
I love how that feels. It’s protective but in a non-threatening way.
He’s been so solicitous the entire way here, which I find incredibly endearing.
It’s refreshing being treated like this.
Walking into his place surprises me yet again. It’s gorgeous. I’ve underestimated this man. The decor is very modern, done in blacks and grays with a few maroon accents. It’s both masculine and distinctly him. I chide myself for my shock, apparently, not every man lives like a frat boy. Who knew?
“Your place is lovely,” I say, as I explore the open floor plan.
It combines the kitchen, dining room, and living room into one large, tastefully decorated space.
A huge black leather sectional takes up most of the living room.
It’s facing a gigantic wall-mounted TV. I bet watching hockey on it is spectacular.
A tall dining table with seating for four sits next to a breakfast bar attached to the kitchen.
The best features, by far, are the enormous picture windows lining the back of both the dining and living rooms. The stunning view of downtown Denver is breathtaking.
“Wow, this is beyond incredible,” I say, completely captivated by the city skyline spread out in all its glory. The sun is just setting, and the golden pink sky is magnificent. I love a good sunset, but this is breathtaking.
“Right? It’s the main reason I chose the building. I love it,” he replies, coming to my side to admire the view.
It would be so easy to lean into him, so comforting. I miss his solid presence from earlier when he held me in his lap. He felt so safe and warm. I shiver.
“Are you cold? Here. I’ve got the best blanket,” he says. “My sister gave it to me for Christmas. I’m almost positive that she only bought it so she’d have one here when she comes to visit.”
He wraps a soft gray blanket around me, and it feels so luxurious, like I’m holding a cloud. It’s glorious. I need to find out where his sister bought it. It’s incredibly soft, and I’d love to have one for my place.
“Do you want to sit on the sofa and relax while I throw together some dinner? I can bring you a glass of wine. Why don’t I grill Abby a chicken breast for dinner?” He looks at me expectantly. He’s so considerate. Also, how cute is it that he’s willing to cook for my dog? Be still, my heart.
“Um… Sure, chicken would be wonderful. I’m sure she would love it. Although she may not be that hungry, she gets treats all day long at work.” I look pointedly at him because I’ve told both him and Jacob that she’s going to gain too much weight if they keep it up.
He smirks at me and winks, clearly unrepentant. I can’t help but chuckle. Once he gets Abby’s dinner settled, he holds up the wine bottle with a questioning look.
“I’d love a glass of wine, but I’d prefer to sit at the breakfast bar so we can talk while you cook.”
He smiles as if I’ve given him a gift and gestures toward the comfortable barstools lined up at the counter.
“That would be perfect. I love having someone to talk to while I cook. It’s a chardonnay, is that okay?” he asks while opening the wine.
“That would be great. I love chardonnay,” I say, since it sounds like the perfect balm for my wretched day. “Isn’t it hard having alcohol around? Sorry if that’s intrusive, I’m just curious.”
“In the beginning? There was no way I could have handled it. I’m ten years sober now, so I’ve gotten comfortable with it. Sometimes, watching other people drink too much completely reinforces my reasons for quitting. Besides, a friend of mine sent this to me as a housewarming gift.”
He reaches for a wine glass and then pours me a generous serving. I don’t protest. Not tonight.
“You’ll have to let me know if it’s any good.
He and his wife started their own vineyard down in Texas, just outside of Austin.
We played together in Vegas. He’s a terrific winger, but I have no idea if he can make wine or not.
” He chuckles as he hands me a glass and then grabs himself some ice water.
“Well, it smells delicious, so that bodes well.” I taste it, and I’m delighted by the crisp, fruity flavor. “Oh, this is fantastic. I like it. You’ll have to give me the vineyard’s name so I can order some for myself.”
“I absolutely will. My friend will be thrilled.” He sounds pleased by my appreciation of his friend’s wine. Having a man concerned about what I like is new. It feels… really, really nice.
I observe him as he prepares dinner. Sleeves of his white button-down rolled up, muscular forearms on display as he chops a red bell pepper to add to the salad.
Such capable precision in his movements.
A competent man is so attractive. He’s impressively at home in the kitchen.
I can’t remember the last time a man cooked for me, at least one who wasn’t married to one of my friends.
It feels decadent and comforting at the same time.
We discuss hockey and the latest scouting prospects that David Jones has sent us. The conversation flows so effortlessly, and before I know it, he’s plating an elegant dinner of sea scallops, pasta, and a crisp, green salad.
“This looks delicious. Michelin star worthy,” I praise.
“Wait ’til you taste it.” So confident, but not arrogant. God, that’s a nice change of pace for me.
He pulls out my chair and gets me seated at the table before bringing over our plates. I wait to dig in until he’s also seated. It’s the least I can do since he made dinner. He raises his water glass for a toast, and I do the same.
“Congratulations to us. We made it through today, and it was one hell of a day!”
“Isn’t that the truth?” I click my glass in agreement before taking another sip of my tasty wine. It’s delicious. “So, how did you learn to cook like this?”
“One of my first roommates was a chef. He essentially taught me how to cook so he wouldn’t have to do it at home.
I don’t cook as often as I’d like to anymore, but it’s always nicer to have someone to cook for.
” His genuine smile makes my heart happy.
I watch him swirl some pasta on his plate before spearing a sea scallop at the end of his fork.
“That’s handy, to have a roommate like that,” I say before swirling my fork full of pasta.
The first bite is an exquisite explosion of garlic and butter.
I moan in appreciation. The scallops are sweet and perfectly cooked, with a lovely caramelized crust. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until I smelled the food.
Now, I can’t get it in my mouth fast enough.
This is heavenly. I’m finishing my last bite when I notice we haven’t said a word during dinner; we’ve been singularly focused on eating.
He looks at me as he’s taking his final bite, and his eyebrow lifts in query.
“Well, clearly, we were hungry,” I say, grinning as I look at our empty plates. “That was so amazing, I didn’t even want to talk.”
He wipes his lips with a napkin before giving me a flirty smile. “I’m so glad you liked it. You’ll have to let me do it again. Soon.”
“Oh, I’ll happily let you cook for me. After raising kids for years, the last thing I want to do lately is cook.”
“Didn’t you have a home chef? I mean, the Robertsons strike me as pretentious like that,” he says, giving me a curious look.
“Oh, they very much were. When Kurt was alive, definitely, but the kids and I lived a much more subdued lifestyle after he died. I’m not a big fan of live-in staff, and I wanted my kids to have as normal a life as possible.”
He looks at me like I’ve surprised him. I get it, but it wasn’t the money for me.
I wanted to raise my kids, not have someone else do it for me.
I didn’t want to miss a moment of them growing up, regardless of how well off we were financially.
I was adamantly against them ending up anything like their father and his rich, entitled friends.
“I think that’s commendable, Jos. Not every person in your financial position thinks like that, but somehow, that’s so very you. You care so much about the people around you, and I admire that. I’m not always that good about being considerate.”
I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. It’s so wonderful to be appreciated. He gets up to grab the wine and top off my glass before I even have a chance to ask for more.
“You’re more considerate than you think, Damon. Today’s a perfect example of that.” I say, as I gesture towards my dinner plate. He ducks his head, but I see the corner of his lips turn up.
“This is my last glass. I need to get going soon,” I say wistfully.
He looks a bit disappointed but recovers quickly. “Why don’t we watch a movie? We can relax and let the effect of the wine wear off.”
“That sounds perfect. What have you got?” And it does. It’s been ages since I’ve just sat and watched a movie.
“Only every hockey movie known to man,” he says, waggling his eyebrows for emphasis. “But we can stream something else if you’re tired of hockey.”
“An old-school hockey movie sounds perfect—something funny like Slapshot, maybe? Or we could watch Mystery, Alaska. That’s one of my favorites.”
“Oh, come on. We have to go with Slapshot. It’s a classic,“ he replies, a playful expression on his face.
I giggle at his enthusiasm and agree that a classic comedy is the way to go.
“Does Abby need to go out? I can take her before we start the movie. We have a place for the dogs on the roof, so it’s no problem.”
“Oh, I can take her,” I say, moving to stand, but he stops me with a fierce look.
“You sit and relax. I’m happy to take her. She and I are buddies now.” Grabbing her leash, he calls her over. Abby trots to his side, tail wagging with affection as she gazes at him adoringly. She seems perfectly content to follow where he leads.
Me too, girl. Me too.
He hooks up her leash, and they head down the hall.
“I see how it is, Abby. Throw me over for the hot guy with all the treats, you traitor. Don’t think I don’t know you bribe her, Damon.” I call after them.
I hear a deep laugh before the door closes behind them. I can’t help but smile because I’ve never seen her act like this with anyone but me and the kids. It’s adorable and speaks highly of him.
They’re back in ten minutes. My poor girl really had to go, apparently. Content for now, she takes her usual spot at my feet.
“So, you think I’m hot?” he teases with a grin, as he places the leash next to my purse.
My face heats, but despite my usual reserve, I laugh before bantering back.
“I said Abby thinks you’re hot, but then again, she licks her own butt, so…” I leave it hanging. The genuine belly laugh I get from that comment makes me smirk, even as it warms my heart. Surely, the man knows how handsome he is.
“Ouch! That one hurt.” He brings his hand to his heart while looking at me with mock sorrow, lips twitching as he holds back a grin.
“I may never recover. Abby, help me!” He gives my dog a plaintive look. She cocks her head at him and then looks away.
I can’t help but laugh.
“She’s not rushing to your defense.”
“Maybe I need to invest in more treats?” he says, his expression calculating.
I shake my head with mock disapproval. He and Jacob are never going to stop spoiling her, but I’d be lying if I said I hated it.
“Hah! Hardly, she gets more than enough from you.”
“Is there such a thing as too many treats? Abby? What do you think?”
He looks pointedly at my dog, as if she would reply. She just cocks her head to the side in that adorable way that dogs do.
He chuckles as he gets me settled beneath his soft throw on his enormous sofa and starts the movie.
We’re sitting at opposite ends of his sectional, and I don’t like it.
I’m snuggled into one corner, and he’s spread out over the other.
I’d rather be cuddled up next to him, but I’ve already crossed way too many lines today, so I’ll have to be happy with the soft blanket instead.
Not even five minutes in, we’re laughing and quoting movie lines to each other.
Before I know it, he’s sitting much closer.
Secretly, I love it, so I don’t say a word.
I stretch my feet out, and without missing a beat, he moves them to his lap and begins to gently massage the right one.
I practically purr; it feels delicious. I could get used to this.
He shoots me his signature smirk as if he’s privy to my thoughts before he turns his attention back to the movie. I relax against the cushions, closing my eyes to enjoy his strong hands kneading the tension out of my body through my feet.