Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
Ambrosia
Dawson comes to stand beside his parents, leaning on his forearm against his dad’s shoulder.
He’s a little taller than his dad, and even more so when he’s on skates.
My head practically tips back to look up at him.
His hair is all messy, the dark locks falling into his eyes, sweat or maybe water dripping from the strands and along his nose.
This close, I can see the acne scars from him picking at his skin during his teenage years.
I have the same, but seeing his makes him a bit more human.
I swallow as he looks down at me with an expression that says he knows I like the way he looks.
I know it.
Hell, I think all of Tennessee knows it.
He clears his throat, flashing a smile that doesn’t have any dimples. I call this his media smile. “You guys going to introduce me?”
I have to fight back the grin from being right.
I knew he would never remember me.
“Oh, Dawson—” Baylor says just as Jayden says, “No.”
I snort at that. I’m pretty sure my dad made it clear that if anything happened to him, all his buddies would keep all the sleazeballs away. Funny that Jayden is trying to keep his own son away.
Baylor smacks Jayden’s stomach before giving me a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I think someone skipped lunch.” She gives her husband a pointed look that he doesn’t seem to agree with.
Before he can argue, though, Dawson holds out his hand. “Dawson Sinclair.”
You will take his hand, and you will not remember how he defended you or how hot his thigh tattoo is.
I say those words in my head, but the moment his warm, huge mitten of a hand engulfs mine, I can’t help but remember it all.
How gruff his voice was.
The way he called Grace P. a leech.
How I felt when he licked his lips after asking to eat my pussy.
Just like that damn tattoo, the butterflies in my gut take flight.
In seconds, I’m being pulled into Dawson’s orbit, where girls go to be used and tossed aside.
Like when I was younger and my dad would scoot across the carpet in socks, only to zap me with his finger, I feel the zap from Dawson’s huge hold.
Breathless, I pull my hand away quickly and wrap my arms around my middle, hating that I want to know if he felt that too.
I know I look defensive, but with Dawson Sinclair, I need to be.
“Ambrosia Mercer.”
He hikes a brow at me, amusement curving his lips. “Ambrosia? Like the salad?”
I hear his dad say his name in a low warning, and his mom gives him a sharp look, but he ignores both. Mirroring him, I hike my own brow in a challenge. “Yes.”
“A story with that?”
“Maybe, but only people I like get it.”
His eyes light up, and I see the challenge in them.
Fantastic.
Just what I need.
His brother chuckles as Phillipe Odder—holyfuckingshit!—leans into the boards with a smirk on his face. They both are enjoying the show.
I love this for me.
“Oh, so you don’t like me?”
I give him a bored look and remind myself that his parents are right here. “I don’t know you.”
“Everyone knows me,” he says with a laugh.
“Not me,” I throw back. “And only a select few know me.” I look to his parents, ignoring his devastatingly gorgeous grin, and say, “You guys ready?”
“What are you meeting for?”
I can tell that Jayden doesn’t have time for his son’s bullshit by the look he shoots Dawson, but his mom has one hell of a soft spot for him. “Ambrosia here is taking over the announcing position for the boys’ games, but she also does the girls’, so we wanted to map out what this will look like.”
Dawson’s appreciative gaze falls to me. His eyes dance with mischief. He’s sizing me up, so I stand taller. Tetas afuera—tits out—as my mom and tía always tell me. “So, you know hockey?”
“A bit.”
“She also wants us on her podcast, so we’re going to discuss that too.”
Dawson seems a bit surprised by that. “A podcast too? Hockey one?”
I nod, and I really don’t want to talk to him, but I’m proud of what I’ve done. “Yes, I took over The Rowe Report when my dad passed.”
Recognition takes over his features. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
I feel myself getting smaller, so I fight against the need to fold into myself. I hate that phrase, though. Sorry for your loss. Yeah, me too. Can you bring him back?
Swallowing past the emotion in my throat, I say, “Thank you.”
He looks at his parents now. “Going on to talk about the programs?”
Jayden squeezes Baylor into his side again. “Yes, and Ambrosia is also doing a new segment.”
“Not hockey?”
I bristle at his question, and I don’t know why. I really dislike the fact that something about this guy just gets under my skin. I hate the static I’m feeling. As if my skin has a billion little spiders crawling all along it and down my back.
Ugh, why can’t he have a snaggletooth?
I try to keep the annoyance of my reaction out of my voice. “Why would you assume it’s not hockey?”
He shrugs, a knowing little grin on his face that I want to smack off. “Just an assumption.”
I scoff, narrowing my eyes. “Well, you assume wrong, because it does have to do with hockey.” I clear my throat. “I am asking everyone if falling in love changed their game.”
Dawson pauses then lets out a bark of a laugh.
A deep one, from his soul, it seems, which only makes me glare harder.
When he notices no one is laughing, he swallows his amusement before giving his parents a look of disbelief.
He then looks back at me, humor sparkling in his eyes.
I want to poke him in his stupid, pretty eyes. “Only you are in control of your game.”
Gah, he’s such a jackass. Before I can call him that, though, his dad chimes in. “Sure, but having a person to lean on makes a huge difference. Your mother and I excelled because of each other.”
Dawson waves them off, shaking his head. “Because you two were rivals and wanted to be better than the other. Being in love doesn’t matter.”
If I kick him, he won’t feel it. He has on shin guards, but kicking him is totally unprofessional. So instead, I snap, “Have you been in love?”
He scoffs like that’s the most outrageous thing I’ve ever asked. “No. I don’t have time for that.”
Now I laugh. But it’s condescending and full of mirth. “Yes, between two sports, all the females you have sucking your dick, and your huge-ass ego that you constantly have to feed, however would you have the time?”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I slap my hand across my mouth. My eyes whip to Baylor and Jayden, and their shocked faces match mine.
I actually said that out loud.
Louis and Phillipe are hooting loudly, the deep tenor of their laughter filling the space around us. Jayden snorts before looking at Baylor, who doesn’t seem the least bit impressed by my outburst.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to regain my composure. “I’m really sorry.”
Baylor waves me off. “I work here. I know my son’s reputation.”
His deep chuckle pulls my attention to him, only to find Dawson grinning as if my words were nothing but flies circling him. “So, you do know me.”
I will not let it bother me that he doesn’t remember me. I knew he wouldn’t. He was trashed that night. “I’ve seen you in action before,” I say as evenly as I can muster.
His eyes widen before the dread settles in his irises. “Wait. I’d remember being with you.”
“We didn’t hook up,” I confirm, shaking my head. “Not because you turned me down, but because I wouldn’t touch you with a hockey stick.”
His eyes dance, playfulness on his beautiful face. “I’d never turn you down, Ro.”
“It’s Ambrosia,” I correct. “And I wouldn’t give you the time of day to do so.” I vibrate with anger, but I turn to his parents. I feel the heat creeping up my face, and I know I’ve gotta get away from this situation.
Away from him.
“Are you two ready?”
Baylor nods, and Jayden holds out his hand to where I assume the meeting rooms are.
Before any of us can move, Dawson says, “Love doesn’t change anything.
You’re wasting your time with this. Men want to know about stats and the newest news, not if someone’s game is affected by who they’ve chosen to do life with. ”
Our gazes lock, and I feel the swoop in my belly at the intensity of his look.
He truly believes what he is saying, and if he weren’t such a jackass, I’d feel bad for him.
I know he’s loved. It’s obvious, with the way his parents and brother look at him, and it makes me wonder why he hasn’t ever been in love.
He has all the perfect displays of happy relationships around him.
Not only are his parents still totally obsessed with each other, but I know Louis is in a very serious relationship.
All his uncles and aunts are married, and even his oldest cousin is.
All of them committed and in love.
Okay, I know I told him I didn’t know him, but I do. He’s hockey royalty, so yeah, I know things.
Not that I’d ever tell him.
I feel myself burning from the inside out.
My cheeks are probably blood red, but I don’t look away from his know-it-all eyes.
He exudes confidence that has me practically salivating over him.
I love a man with big dick energy, and Dawson has that in spades.
I refuse to give in, though. I will not yearn for this man.
Been there, done that, got the T-shirt and the emotional trauma.
I take a step forward, which is a huge mistake. He smells like sweat and all man. The kind of smell that makes me think of huge pine trees in the mountains when my dad and I would go camping. His scent makes me feel safe, though I know Dawson is anything but.
With a glint in my eye that’s set right on him, I say as calmly as I can, “Maybe instead of wrinkling your nose at my theory…” Before I can stop myself, I flick his nose.
His head jerks back, and I know people are laughing, but I’m lost in his eyes and appalled at my complete insanity at this point.
I flicked his nose.
I flicked Dawson Sinclair’s nose.
Pushing past my panic, I blurt out, “Worry about yourself. Since you’re the only one who can change your game, then you shouldn’t have an ounce of trouble picking a sport so you can stop wasting everyone’s time.”
Dawson’s jaw goes slack, and his eyes widen in shock that I not only assaulted him with my finger but with my words.
He recovers quickly, though, heat burning in his gaze before he unleashes that huge, deeply dimpled grin.
The air is knocked clean out of me as I force a saccharine smile before I turn on my heel.
My heart is beating so hard, it’s practically coming out of my chest as I pray I’m going the right way.
It isn’t until I’m in some kind of meeting room that I let out the breath I was holding.
The breath that Dawson stole straight from my lungs with just that smile of his. Or is it the fact that I may have just ruined any kind of professional relationship with his parents?
I press my hand to my pounding chest as if I can stop my heart from coming out. I’m pretty sure if I didn’t have ribs and tits, that sucker would be lying on the floor, laughing at me for being so stupid.
Yeah, that totally has to be the reason I’m gasping for breath.
His parents.
Not him.
Totally.