Chapter 23
LEAH
I wonder if I’m coming down with a stomach bug. While I was waiting with the girls for the guys to exit the locker room, I recapped everything I’d eaten in the last few days. As a precaution, I’ve stopped using the kitchen in my apartment, not that I’ve been there much lately.
But I cannot shake the strange queasiness in my stomach.
When my siblings and I were kids, there was one hilly spot on the route to the lake. Behind the wheel, my father would somehow time his speed and acceleration in such a way that when we went over those areas, we’d all get stomach flutters and beg him to turn around and do it again.
It’s kind of like one long wave of those that started when I was getting ready for the game and couldn’t figure out what to wear, then got more intense when the Knights circled the rink at the beginning of the game.
My stomach swooped when I spotted Hudson’s chiseled jawline.
Even from a distance, I recognize the wink in his eyes and his kissable lips. Heck, I see them in my sleep.
Then I realize this sensation must be about a dream I had last night. The one that’s been trailing me all day. It was like we’d picked up where we’d left off after the bingo game. Our lips met and sparks flew.
“So, are you heading to the party?” he asks, pulling me back to the present.
My eyes lift from his lips to his eyes and I recall the look he gave me when the Knights did their victory lap. His hair is slightly damp and he looks so sweetly innocent that I almost forget what I overheard back in high school.
I straighten up to my full height and clear my throat. Yep, I’m definitely sick. That has to be it. “Oh, um, yeah. I told everyone I’d be there.”
“Yet, you’re here.”
“Well, they need their couple time.” I roll my eyes as if that’s super cheesy of them and start walking toward the hallway.
Hudson catches up to me and keeps pace. “I wanted to think you waited for me.”
My stomach somersaults. “Why would I do that?” My voice is froggy.
“Because you want your very own hockey guy.”
My breathing turns choppy.
Hudson pushes the elevator button. “Since you’re not into me and don’t want to get married—”
“You do realize you’d have to ask me first …” is not what I meant to say. Why can’t there be a conversational “undo” button?
He’s quiet as if waiting for me to continue or drawing a conclusion, then says, “It pains me to say this, but since I’ve been on three teams, I know loads of single hockey players who’d go crazy for you.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I say as we get on the elevator.
“They’re not ogres.”
The choice of words scratches at my hidden scar, the one Hudson inflicted.
One of the books Gracie had us read for book club involved the love interests being trapped in an elevator together.
It was awkward at first, but it turned heated as their attraction ratcheted up in what she called the forced proximity trope.
I tell myself that if we were the main characters in a romance novel and got stuck in here, his evergreen scent and lazy half-smile would more than likely drive me mad and readers would place bets on who’d survive the thirty minutes it would take the fire department to arrive.
He shifts his weight and his piney, manly scent wafts my way.
I get a heady feeling. The side of his mouth lifts in that wretched grin and the word swoon comes to mind.
No, that can’t be right. What sounds like swoon?
Spoon? Tune? Ah, ruin. As in, he’s trying to ruin my sense of well-being. We’ll go with that.
“What if the elevator gets stuck?” I blurt. Maybe I’m not ill but am having a nervous breakdown. Why would I ask that?
“I’d come to your rescue.”
“Elevators didn’t exist during the days of knights in shining armor.”
Smile faltering, he continues, “Our next three home games happen to be against Miami, Boston, and Houston.”
“Are you nervous too?” What has gotten into me? Something is definitely wrong. I grip my stomach as Hudson gives me the side eye or is he checking me out?
“About the elevator getting stuck? No.” He squeezes my hand. “No,” he repeats. “We’re good.”
The elevator shudders to a stop, dings, and the door opens.
Hudson says, “You’re looking for your great hockey romance. I’ll play matchmaker.”
“Sounds like the worst idea ever,” I mutter, distracted by my thoughts … by him.
“What do you have to lose?”
I’m not sure. Now my stomach is in knots. I can’t be hungry because Ella, Jess, and I split a bucket of nachos during the game.
“This way, your parents will be pleased because you’ll meet someone and still get married.”
“Remember? They want me to marry you.”
From beyond the function room door, laughter, chatter, and music filter toward us, but we’re locked in a staring contest. It’s like a game of chicken to see who’ll flinch first. Only, I feel myself leaning in like a moth to flame … or Julius Cheeser to the Dorito crumbs left by my roommates.
With a wink, Hudson says, “In that case, you’ll realize that I’m the one you want.”
Chuck hollers from the other end of the hall, “Sis!”
Concluding this confusing conversation with Hudson, I swat him and say, “Don’t be dumb.”
Then the words Dumb for you pop into my head.
Chuck asks, “What are you two smiling about?”
I tuck my chin. “I’m not smiling.”
“Yeah, okay. Right. That’s an upside-down frown. Got it.” Chuck spins his finger in my direction.
Hudson surreptitiously coughs into his fist. “The game.”
“Uh huh,” Chuck exaggerates.
“We weren’t smiling,” Hudson and I say at the same time.
My brother looks us over carefully. “Key word we weren’t smiling. You were both definitely smiling.”
I roll my eyes at him and stick out my tongue as only a sister can.
Chuck slits his gaze with suspicion. “In fact, I’ve never seen you smile like that ever, Leah.”
Pink dusts my cheeks and I notice the same shade creeping up Hudson’s neck.
“Things just got interesting,” Chuck says before throwing open the door and declaring, “The party is here!”
Hudson and I remain alone in the hallway for approximately five more seconds before we both stammer, point to the door, and then try to walk through at the same time.
He slides back and gestures for me to go first. This time, I accept and then scurry away, finding the amazing spread Margo set up with loads of snacks, Knights colors tableware, and a big banner with For the Win in big silver balloons intended for selfies.
But my thoughts repeatedly return to how I couldn’t have been smiling. No way. Neither was Hudson. Much.