Chapter Two
Leo
Who the hell is she?
After a rough start to my day, the last thing I felt like doing was getting grilled by some wannabe reporter from the school newspaper.
The paper’s staff had wanted to do a feature on me several times over the last few years and I’d kept blowing them off until Coach Alvarez told me to shut up and do it.
He wouldn’t have had to give me a lecture about getting used to interviews before my rookie season with the Bruins if he’d just shown me a picture of the reporter.
If the girl who’d just walked through the door was the one interviewing me, I’d sit here all day and answer every question she had—if I could think straight with her across from me.
She was beautiful, and my attraction to her hit harder than anything I’d ever experienced.
A ripple of desire shot throughout my entire body in a way I assumed felt like being struck by lightning.
She wore long athletic pants with a cropped sweatshirt over an athletic shirt that was visible across her stomach.
She was fit as hell, and based on her attire, she was clearly into something physical, but I’d never seen her with the other athletes on campus before.
I stood up to greet her, awestruck by her eyes.
They were a blue I’d only ever seen in pictures of tropical beaches, and they stood out against her long, dark hair and olive complexion.
Interesting. People always say my blue eyes and dark hair are what stand out in my appearance. I get it now.
I forced myself to find my voice. “Hey. Sophia?”
“That’s me,” she said, stepping toward me. She had an iced latte in her hand, and I smiled when I saw the Ackerson’s logo.
Apparently, she enjoys my parents’ establishments. One of them, anyway.
She stopped in front of me and held out her hand. “I’m Sophia Grimes. Nice to meet you.”
I smirked at her formality and shook her hand, trying to ignore the warm tingling sensation I felt.
“I wasn’t expecting you so early,” I said.
“I don’t like being late,” she said earnestly.
“Well, then it’s a good thing I wasn’t late either. Be honest, would you have held it against me?” I asked with a flirtatious smile as we sat down across from each other.
“Yes,” she answered, matter-of-factly. “Especially since I would have assumed it had something to do with the way you rocketed out of a two-story window in your underwear a few hours ago.”
I chuckled and rubbed my jaw. “You saw that, did you?”
“I did. Tell me, Leo Harrison, is it a habit of yours to exit the dorms of young women through the window? Is there a reason you’re averse to doors?” She folded her arms across her chest and the slight indignation in her voice made it clear that she was not charmed by me the way other girls were.
“Is that an official question?” I asked, more than a little amused.
“Are you comfortable with me printing your answer in black and white?”
I searched her face for a moment trying to discern if she really wasn’t affected by me. She made no indication that she was interested in sitting here and flirting with me or trying to catch my attention.
When was the last time someone looked at me with indifference?
A lot of women fawn over you when you’ve already been drafted by a pro team and attend college at a school that values hockey players.
I’d gotten used to it, and I’d certainly benefited from the attention in my own way, but it had quickly gotten old.
What was a novelty though, was this girl not giving a damn who I was.
It had a strange sort of appeal that only made her more attractive than she already was.
Her eyes narrowed as I took too long to answer her question.
I held up three fingers like a Boy Scout. “Scouts honor, that was the first time I’ve ever exited through the window, and I hope to make it my last.”
“Were you a Boy Scout?” she asked, pulling a notepad out of her tote bag. She flipped to an empty page and pulled the pen from the spiral on the top.
“Seriously, are these questions on the record?” I asked with an amused smile.
“You can assume everything I ask you is on the record since this isn’t a social call.”
I snorted as Olivia, a brunette who’d been working here for several months, came over to our table from behind the bar with glasses of water for Sophia and me. She set them down. “Can I get you two anything to eat?”
Sophia asked for one of the restaurant’s signature salads without even looking at a menu.
“Also, I hope the latte is, okay.” She held it up to Olivia.
“I know it’s not polite to bring in outside beverages, but one of the other bartenders told me it was fine since Ackerson’s is owned by the same people and you don’t make iced lattes here. ”
Olivia smiled at her before giving me a slight eyebrow raise. It would appear Sophia had not made the connection between the name of this bar and the name of the person she was interviewing.
Olivia turned back to Sophia. “It’s no problem at all.” She turned to me. “The usual for you?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Liv,” I said, passing her Sophia’s menu.
“That was very rule-following of you,” I said, taking a sip of my water as Olivia walked back to the bar.
“Restaurants survive based on selling you products in the restaurant when you sit at their table. It’s only fair to ask if you’re going to break one of the basic tenants of that arrangement,” she said.
I fought a smile. She was cute. Where the heck has she been for the last three years?
“Do you frequent Ackerson’s often?” I asked.
“Daily. At least. I’m addicted to iced vanilla lattes and theirs are great,” she said, taking a sip. Her shoulders dropped slightly, and I couldn’t stop my smile as she continued, her guard slightly lowered. “It’s not as good as my stepmom’s café back home, but it’s the best one I’ve found here.”
“Oh really?” I asked. “And what’s so great about your stepmom’s café that Ackerson’s lacks?”
Sophia lifted her eyebrows. “What are you, their market researcher?” She chuckled. “I grew up in Oahu, Hawaii. My stepmom uses a unique, locally sourced, organic, fair-trade blend, and it’s unparalleled. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Unparalleled is a big claim. I happen to know the coffee at Ackerson’s is also organic, fair-trade, and sourced directly from one of the most sustainable farms in Colombia.” I smirked at her. “They’ve won sustainability awards every year for the last two decades.”
She took another sip of her latte and eyed me suspiciously. “You know a lot about their coffee.”
“Yes.” I chuckled. “I know a lot about the business my parents have been running since before I was born.”
Her eyes widened and she froze with her straw in her mouth. “Wait.” She slowly lowered her plastic cup to the table. “Your parents own Ackerson’s? That means they own…”
“Our current location?” I took a sip of water and leaned back. “Yes, that’s why my name’s on the door. They also own The Cohen Club, a speakeasy a few blocks away.”
“Oh shit,” she grumbled, letting her head fall back against the booth. “When you said you eat here for free, I just assumed it was another one of the many perks you receive for being a hockey player. I didn’t even notice the name.”
I laughed at her obvious annoyance that there wasn’t a nefarious reason for my free meals. “Sorry to disappoint you, it’s simply a result of good ol’ fashioned nepotism.”
“Do your parents work here?” she asked, looking around.
“No, not anymore. My dad’s a paramedic and when he’s not on shift he’s managing the business that comes with owning three restaurants—usually from Ackerson’s, since it’s my mom’s favorite place to sit and work.
Jackson is the head chef here and he’s been managing operations for years.
My parents did meet here though, once upon a time.
” I looked around at the bar that I knew as well as my own home.
“Well now I feel like an ass,” she said with a sigh. “I had several questions planned based on my assumption that you got ridiculous perks like free meals in the city.”
I laughed heartily as Olivia returned, setting a turkey burger in front of me and a salad in front of Sophia. I thanked her and she went back to the bar.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Hawaii. You’ll need another angle for your article, I’m afraid.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Hawaii?”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever met from Hawaii.”
“I see. And that warrants a nickname? Or does everyone get one of those from you so you don’t have to remember our actual names?”
“No.” I shook my head and bit into my burger. I swallowed and smiled at her over the bun. “No one gets nicknames from me.”
She took a bite of her salad and when she’d finished chewing, she said, “Okay, well, in the interest of moving forward with the interview, when did you start playing hockey?”
“When I was five.” I took a bite and swallowed quickly. “My aunt got me a pair of skates for Christmas, and I never took them off.”
“Were you pressured by your parents to play?”
“Not at all,” I said. “My dad and my aunt are huge Bruins fans, so I was watching hockey with them as soon as I was old enough for my eyes to focus on the TV. We went to a few games at TD Garden each season too.”
I took a sip of water. “When Aunt Lavi got me skates, I fell in love. I pushed myself to learn and get better. My parents spared no expense in getting me access to private lessons and hockey camps. Whatever I wanted or needed to get better, they were willing to provide. I don’t think they ever had hopes or expectations that I’d go pro, they just wanted to help me do what I loved doing at the time.
I was very fortunate to be raised in an environment with both the financial means and the emotional support necessary.
But I could have stopped playing any day, and they would have been fine.
Heck, my mother would have probably been thrilled not to be constantly worried about me getting a concussion. ”
“That’s a valid concern, isn’t it?” Sophia asked, scribbling notes.