Chapter 13
NORA
It’s not like I’m surprised that Alex is a good kisser. He’s a very talented man in many ways and, much like hockey, I am sure he’s had lots of practice in this area.
Still, with both hands holding my face, his hot mouth covering mine, his big body seeming to surround me with his heat and just him being him, I’m overwhelmed.
I arch closer and find my hands fisting the front of his shirt. I’m just trying to stay upright.
Not that he’d let me fall.
Somehow, I know that.
And that seems like an outlandish thought to have after knowing the guy only two days.
The jazz band finishes their song with a loud trumpet flourish, and people applaud, the sounds breaking through my swirling emotions, including confusion and a big dose of oh crap.
Alex lifts his head and stares down at me. I am certain he notices the fact that I am practically panting.
“How about beignets?” he asks.
It takes me a second to compute what he’s saying.
I glance toward Café Du Monde just across the square.
“Oh, Bruce would definitely have a problem with me eating anyone else's beignets. His are amazing. You’ll have to try them.”
Alex drags his thumb across my lower lip and my pussy clenches. I just barely resist flicking my tongue out against his skin.
“Then tell me another way that I can convince you to stay here in the city a little longer.”
“Why do you want to keep me in the city longer? We live in the same town.”
“So it can get very late and I can suggest that we need to stay over.”
My smile grows. Even though falling for Alex is a very bad idea, I do like the idea that he wants me too.
He shakes his head. “I want to take you to a gorgeous, very expensive hotel, and get the biggest, nicest suite they have, and make sure you have a spa appointment, and order lots of room service, and buy you new clothes for tomorrow, and basically spoil the hell out of you for tonight. Or maybe for the weekend. Or the month.”
I almost can’t breathe.
I want that. So much. God, the spa treatment and room service alone. But with Alex? Yes, please.
Like hockey and kissing, I’m guessing Alex Olsen has had lots of practice with women in bedrooms, and I’m sure he’s amazing.
I’d really love to find out.
But that would be a really, really bad idea.
I step back. “Neither of us can stay in New Orleans for a month. We have a lot to do in Rebel.”
“So how about tonight?”
Yes, absolutely, take me there now.
“I…” Shouldn’t even tell him how much I want to, should I?
That’s a bad idea if I’m going to be adamant about not doing it.
And what if he decides to kiss me again?
He could convince me that my worries can be dealt with tomorrow.
“...can’t.” I shake my head. “There is no way I can sleep with you, Alex.”
He steps closer. “Am I misreading our chemistry? Tell me, and I’ll back off.”
I believe him. I feel completely safe with Alex. And god no, he’s not misreading anything. “No. It’s not that. I want to. I just can’t.” I laugh lightly. “I shouldn’t. And it’s been a really long time. And it’ll probably be a really long time to come. What with the no dating and all.”
God, it’s been a really long time. And the last few times weren’t great.
And it will be a really long time before it happens again.
My trust has been shot. Men can tell me they’re staying, that they’re in it for the long-haul but I don’t know if I can believe anyone anymore.
And if they’re not staying, if it’s not going to lead to something more, then why risk getting my heart involved?
I realize I’m rambling and my thoughts are wandering. I clear my throat. “The thing is, you’re leaving. And I like you. And if I sleep with you, I will get even more attached and when you leave, it will be even harder. I already don’t deal well with people leaving me and Rebel.”
He doesn’t say anything right away and I think that, maybe, he looks surprised. I’m sure he’s surprised that someone is turning him down for sex. But that’s not what this feels like.
“You think you’re going to be attached to me?” he asks.
How is that hard to believe? “Yes. I think we’re going to be friends. I think we already are.”
“I mean, I know that you probably think the hockey team will miss me. But hopefully everything will be well-established by the time I go back to Portland. The people will be coming for the fun and the team will be playing well together so you’ll be selling plenty of tickets and won’t need me anymore. ”
I’m not sure what’s going on here. “I hope all of that’s true. But I’m not talking about missing you on the hockey team. I’m talking about the fact that we’re going to spend the next seven months working together, getting to know each other. I’ll miss you.”
“Oh.”
He looks like he’s trying to solve a complicated calculus equation in his head.
“Don’t you miss people in Portland?” I ask. He seems confused about the concept of missing someone.
“Well, Astrid. But she’s here. I miss my family. But that’s normal. And I go back to see them.”
“Don’t you miss any teammates?”
“Yes. I guess so.” He shakes his head. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind since I got here so I haven’t really thought about it. And I’ve got a new team. New people to play with so I guess I thought maybe they’d fill in those gaps.”
“Well, I’m sure your teammates in Portland miss you.”
He frowns. “I haven’t been playing for several months. I’ve been hurt since last October.”
“Yes, I know they’ve adjusted to not having you on the ice with them.” He winces slightly when I say that. “But I mean you as a person.”
He doesn’t respond to that. Does Alex Olsen actually think that no one cares about him other than when he’s in skates?
I really can’t sleep with him. Because regardless of what he understands about missing humans as people and friends, I definitely understand it.
I get attached. I know it has to do with my mother basically giving me up when I was an infant and moving on with her life and then starting another family without me.
And to me, that’s okay. That is a normal reaction to having a mother who had bigger and better things to do.
But I do get attached, and I do like having lots of people to love. And being loved by lots of people. And I’m well aware it is why I am so co-dependent on my hometown. It is full of people who love me.
I suddenly want to show Alex Olsen what it’s like to have friends who he is not related to and who do not suit up for hockey games with him.
“Maybe we could—”
“Hey, are you Alex Olsen?”
I’m cut off from suggesting we find a jazz club or somewhere else to spend some time by three boys in their late teens.
Alex turns toward the boys. “I am.”
The boys all brighten.
“No way. We’re huge fans!” the one wearing jeans and a blue hooded sweatshirt exclaims.
“I can’t believe you’re just here!” the one wearing the plain white T-shirt and black athletic shorts tells Alex.
“I told you it was him!” the third says. He looks almost exactly like the one in the blue hoodie and I assume they’re brothers.
“Just here having dinner and enjoying the night,” Alex says.
“We are here on vacation with our parents,” the youngest one says. “I can’t believe we just ran into a huge hockey star out here walking around.”
“You’re hockey fans?” Alex asks, his stance relaxing and his smile growing warmer.
“Yeah, of course. We’ve watched you play a ton,” blue hoodie tells him.
“I appreciate that,” Alex says. “Are you having fun here in New Orleans?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty cool. Seeing people just out playing music on the streets is pretty awesome,” the one in the T-shirt says, gesturing toward the jazz band that is getting ready to start a new song.
“What are your names?” Alex asks.
“I’m Matt,” the one in the hoodie says.
Alex extends his hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Matt.”
The boy looks amazed as he takes Alex’s hand.
“I’m Austin,” the one in the white T-shirt says, extending his hand and taking Alex’s.
“Hi, Austin,” Alex says, his smile genuine.
“My name is Alex,” the youngest one says, sticking his hand out with a big grin. “Cool name, right?”
Alex chuckles and takes his hand too. “The best. Any of you boys play hockey?”
They all do and tell Alex they’re from Wisconsin and were so bummed when Alex got hurt, and how cool it is to meet him.
“I appreciate that,” Alex says. “It’s been tough. So do you guys have anything you want me to sign?”
Their jaws all drop, and they look at one another. “I don’t really have anything,” Matt says. “We didn’t expect to run into any celebrities.”
I rummage in my bag and pull out a four-by-six bright green index card, a cardboard coaster from Perks and Rec—it’s only got a tiny coffee stain on it—and a package of playing cards.
I pull a Joker out—we almost never need jokers.
I hand the three items to Alex along with a black Sharpie. “Here you go.”
He looks at the odd collection of items, then at my bag, and gives me a grin. “Thanks.” He holds them up to the boys. “How’s this? Something pretty unique. Nobody else will have my signature on any of these things.”
The boys excitedly agree, and Alex signs his name along with the date and Jackson Square, New Orleans at the bottom. That all barely fits on the Joker playing card, but I suspect that the younger Alex will treasure that playing card for years.
“I can’t wait to watch you play again,” Austin tells Alex as he hands me the pen back. “When do you think that will be?”
“Uh, thanks.” Alex hesitates, then glances at me. “As a matter of fact, I am going to be playing for a small team down here in Louisiana this season.”
The boys’ eyes go wide. “No kidding?” Matt asks.
“No kidding. They’re doing something new in a little town near here. It’s really unique and pretty fun. It’s not professional hockey. It’s…well, you’ll have to see.”
“Where can we watch it?” Matt asks.
“You would really want to?”
“Sure, why not? Hockey’s fun no matter what.”
“Really?”