Chapter 2 #3
His response came quickly. “My first love was hockey.”
“Of course, it was,” she deadpanned. “Same holds true for Victor.”
Dean smiled. “I was six years old when my dad deemed me old enough for my first pair of skates. My folks owned a cabin in Canada, and we spent the holidays there. Dad flooded the backyard every winter for the tiny rink he’d built with crooked boards.
Half the ice was always rough because we never got it level. ”
“That sounds awesome. Victor would have killed for his own personal backyard rink.”
“It was heaven on earth. I’ve never skated on anything better, and I’ve played in some of the best arenas in the world.
Every single day, I’d stay out there on the ice until my toes were numb.
” Dean sighed. “I haven’t thought about that rink in a long time.
My parents sold the cabin after I graduated from high school. Damn, I miss that place.”
“And last love?” she asked, reminding him that her question had two parts.
“Kenny. I’ve loved plenty of people before her, my parents, friends, teammates, but when I walked into Ellie’s tiny apartment the day after she called to tell me that I was a father, and she put that sweet baby in my arms…
I might not have been mature enough at the time to understand what a gift I’d been given, but lately,” he paused, “reconnecting with her at her high school graduation, then building a relationship with her…” He seemed to be struggling for the words to describe his feelings.
“I’m grateful to Ellie and McKenna for giving me a second chance, for being loving and generous enough to let me be a part of their lives.
I’m just sorry it took me so damn long to figure out how much I needed that wonderful girl in my life. ”
“McKenna would probably remind you at this point that she’s a woman, not a girl,” Vivian said lightly.
Dean chuckled. “I’m sure she would.”
His responses hadn’t been what she expected, but she liked the answers very much.
“What about you?” Dean asked. “First love, last love?”
“I’ve talked about myself enough tonight,” she countered.
“Answer anyway.”
“You already know the answer. My first love and my last love are the same.”
Dean looked surprised by that. “No high school boyfriends? Phil was your first love?”
“He was the first,” she whispered.
“And since then?”
“Right after Phil died, I believed there would never be another.”
“And now?” Dean asked gently.
Vivian bit her lower lip, searching for an answer. “Now…I don’t know.”
It was the most honest answer she could give him. Yet, somehow, sitting across the table from Dean in this restaurant in Boston, not knowing didn’t feel nearly as frightening as it once had.
Before either of them could continue the conversation, they were interrupted by a quiet cough.
They looked up to find the waiter standing there with an apologetic smile. Vivian glanced around the restaurant and realized they’d talked so long, the place had emptied.
“I’m very sorry, but we’re closing for the evening.”
Dean looked around as well and laughed. “Looks like we overstayed our welcome.”
“Not at all.” The waiter placed their check on the table. She and Dean both reached for it, but he was quicker.
“Let me pay, since you got the room,” she said.
He frowned. “Hell no. I’m a bachelor who eats at the kitchen counter alone most nights. I’m grateful for the company and conversation.” He slipped his card into the leather bill holder.
“Well, thank you. But just know that I’m paying for the cab back to the airport and buying you a big-ass cup of coffee when we get there.”
Dean smirked. “Deal.”
They apologized to the waiter when he returned, then headed back to the hotel lobby, dragging their carry-ons.
Despite the late hour and the fact she’d had a long day, Vivian felt energized and wide awake. “I’m usually dead to the world by this time of night,” she confessed. “Somewhere along the line, Pip’s bedtime became mine.”
Dean pushed the button for the elevator, then turned to look at her. “Meanwhile, I put in way too many late nights.”
When the elevator doors slid open, they stepped on and for the first time in hours, a silence fell between them. Not a bad silence, just a comfortable one as they rode to their floor.
Dean produced the key card, unlocking the door and holding it open for her to drag her bag inside.
The first thing she noticed was the king-sized bed occupying most of the space in the room. Apart from that, there was one desk, one chair, a dresser, two nightstands, and nothing else.
“Damn,” Dean mumbled from behind her, as he stepped in and closed the door.
“I asked about a rollaway. The guy at the front desk said they didn’t have any left, but he promised to double-check and deliver it here if he found one.
I could tell from the way he said it, he wasn’t optimistic. But I hoped maybe we’d get lucky.”
“It’s okay. We were lucky just to get the room, given all the canceled flights,” she pointed out. She glanced around again.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Dean said.
She laughed. “Nope.”
“It’ll be fine, Viv.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I spend a good third of my life on the road, so I’ve learned to sleep on planes, busses…hell, one night, I slept on a locker room floor after a nasty snowstorm.”
“This isn’t a locker room. It’s your room,” she reminded him. “If anyone is going to sleep on the—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Dean said gruffly. “The reason you’re here is because I wasn’t about to let you sleep on the airport floor. So there’s no way you’re sleeping on the floor here, either.”
“Okay.” She bit her lower lip, glancing at the bed. She spoke before she could second-guess her decision. “We’re adults, Dean. I think we can survive sharing a bed for one night.”
He hesitated just long enough that she couldn’t resist teasing him.
“Unless you’re afraid of my big brother,” she taunted, unable to hide her grin.
“I’m not afraid of Victor Reed,” he retorted, in a dark voice that sent a delicious shiver down her spine. Probably not the best reaction, considering she was about to crawl under the covers with the sexy man.
Better to put a bit of distance between them before she started offering Dean more than just half the bed. Opening her carry-on, she tugged out her bathroom bag and her pajamas. “I’ll only be a minute,” she said, as she walked across the room.
“Take your time.” Dean didn’t bother opening his bag. Instead, he slipped off his shoes, sank down on the bed, and leaned back against the headboard. Reaching for the remote, he turned on the television and started flipping through channels.