7. Cassidy
Cassidy
My heart flutters when Trenton arrives promptly at six with a giant carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
What a man brings to dinner tells me everything I need to know about him.
I bite my bottom lip to conceal my smile as I stick it inside the freezer. “Interesting choice.”
“I figured a happy woman would flirt and take off her top, so the ice cream was the best choice to get all three.”
I laugh. “That’s actually genius. No man has ever given me that response before.”
“They all chose wine, didn’t they?”
“Most of them did. One man was bold enough to come with tequila, and another brought mint chocolate chip—but it was the white kind.”
Trenton wrinkles his nose. “Amateur.”
“The food should be here any minute. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering a variety of things. I’m confident you’ll love everything.”
“Fine by me.” He slips his hands into his pockets and glances around my apartment like he’s scoping it out.
I take this opportunity to scope him out. The ends of his hair look damp, like he towel-dried his hair after he got out of the shower. Slight scruff peppers his jaw, outlining his lips. His dark features only intensify his dark-brown eyes, making them more hypnotic than they already are.
This is the first time I’ve seen him in jeans, and as much as I like the gray sweatpants, denim looks damn good on him too.
The sleeves of his T-shirt stretch around his biceps.
His arms are huge; blocky shoulders, round biceps, bulging triceps, and a few prominent veins running down his muscular forearms.
God damn. Is this what all hockey players look like? I’ve been missing out.
He clears his throat and my eyes snap up to his. “Sorry. I’m a whore for nice arms.”
He tilts his head. “You’re a what…for what?”
“You know, arm porn.” I reach out and squeeze his bicep. “You have really nice arms.”
“Oh.” He averts his eyes to the floor like he hasn’t heard that a thousand times over. “Thanks.”
I shrug and pull out a couple of forks from the drawer.
Trenton eyes the bird cage across the room. “Is that thing going to come at me again?”
I stifle a laugh. “She’s locked in for the night. Don’t worry.”
He gives her a hard stare like he doesn’t trust her. I guess I won’t be telling him about what she did to her poor brother any time soon.
I pull two plates from the cabinet. “So, what is it like being a goalie? That’s pretty much the only position I know anything about. You block the goal and that’s it, right?”
“In layman terms, sure. I block the goal.” He takes the plates from me and sets them down on the table. “But games are won and lost because of the goalie. Everything rides on whether I let a shot get through.”
“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”
He nods. “It is.”
I lean my hip against the counter as I watch him. “I guess out of all the sports, hockey is pretty cool. You’re flying across the ice on thin little blades, making the puck go wherever you want it to with a stick. I’m definitely not coordinated enough to do that.”
“Have you ever skated?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never even roller skated, let alone tried it on the ice. It looks hard.”
“I guess it is at first. But you get used to it. I’ve been doing it since I was little. Skating is like second nature to me now.”
“It’s great that you love what you do.”
He leans against the counter, mirroring me. “Do you love being an author?”
“I do. I’ve always loved writing, ever since I was a kid. My parents fought a lot so I’d hole up in my bedroom with my headphones and a notebook. I’d make up stories about my life, but I’d make them turn out the way I wanted them to.”
“How did they end?”
“Usually with my parents getting hit by a bus or tossed off a cliff.”
He sputters. “Really?”
“Don’t judge. It was my coping skill.”
He grimaces. “I’m guessing they weren’t the greatest parents.”
“To them, I was just a freeloading nuisance. They definitely didn’t plan for me—which they reminded me of every chance they got. I’m honestly surprised they didn’t ditch me in a dumpster when they had the chance.”
Trenton blinks. “That’s...”
“Awful? Yeah.” I let out a humorless laugh. “It’s fine. I went to therapy and dealt with it. I refuse to be one of those people with mommy and daddy issues who walk around fucking up everyone else’s lives with their own damage.”
Silence hangs between us, and I fidget with the hem of my shirt. It’s not that I can’t talk about my parents, but the subject makes me uncomfortable because of the pity people impart on me when I tell them.
Poor little girl wasn’t loved by her mommy.
A knock at the door gives me an out, so I speed-walk away from the conversation.
I smile when I swing open the door. “Hey, Ru.”
Rupert grins. “How’s my favorite author doing today?”
I take the brown takeout bag from him. “I wrote part of a chapter today.”
“Hey, that’s progress.”
“Now if I can keep that up, I’ll have a whole book.”
He lifts his hand and squeezes my shoulder. “The words will be flowing in no time. I know it.”
“I hope so.” I reach into the bag and pull out a small container. “Here, I got your favorite.”
His eyes widen. “No, I can’t take your food.”
“I ordered it for you, silly. Take it.”
He heaves a sigh as he takes the container from me. “Thank you, Miss Cassidy. You’re too good to me.”
“For you? Never.”
He gives me a gracious nod before heading back down the hall.
Trenton watches me with a look of bewilderment. “You do that often?”
“Do what?”
“Order food for the workers here?”
I set down the bag and unload the contents onto the table. “Only for Ru.”
He pops open the lid on each container. “Why’s that?”
“I wasn’t in the best place when I first moved in here. He was so kind and attentive, and he checked on me a lot. You don’t find too many compassionate people nowadays. He’s a good friend.”
“You moved here after your breakup?”
“Yup.” I yank on the refrigerator door. “Water, beer, or wine?”
“Water’s fine.”
I take out two bottles and slide one across the table before dropping into a chair.
I gesture to each container as I rattle off the meals. “This one has a smoky BBQ flavor; this one with the pineapples has a Hawaiian flavor; and if you like sweet and spicy, this sandwich is to die for. But I’ll bet you twenty bucks that you’ll love the BBQ.”
“Why’s that?”
“You know that belief where people say dogs look like their owners? Well, I think people enjoy flavors that match their personalities.”
He arches a brow. “And my personality says smoky BBQ guy?”
The smoking-hot man who’s char-grilled and bitter on the outside, but deliciously tender on the inside? Yeah, my money’s on BBQ.
I hide my smirk. “Just a hunch.”
His eyes narrow on me. “Let me guess: You’re sweet and spicy?”
My head tilts back as I let out a laugh. “I’m an easy read.”
We’re knuckles-deep in pork for the next twenty minutes, grunting like cavemen and barely uttering two words to each other while we eat. This food is that good. It’s an experience you don’t want to ruin with conversation.
After he finishes off the last of the BBQ pork, he leans back against the chair and sucks his fingers into his mouth one by one, licking them clean of any excess sauce.
I stare with rapt attention, focusing on the way his tongue wraps around the tips of each finger, as well as the rumble of his pleased hum.
Aaaaaaand my panties are soaked.
I need some air.
I gesture to the empty containers scattered around the table. “Leave all this. Let’s go sit outside before the sun sets.”
I take the carton of ice cream with me, and swipe two spoons from the drawer.
We relax into the pair of lounge chairs I set up on the balcony, letting the sounds of the city below fill the silence.
To my surprise, he speaks first. “So, should I be worried? Are you going to kill me off in your book?”
I flash him a devious smile. “That all depends on how you treat me in real life.”
His lips twitch. “Noted.”
“We’re lucky you know.” I hand him a spoon and use mine to carve out a chunk of mint chip. “So many people work because they need a paycheck. They don’t love their jobs. They don’t have passion for what they do. But we took a hobby and made a living out of it.”
“We’re definitely doing well for ourselves.” He turns to me. “I Googled you. You wrote a lot of books.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“What was Rupert talking about before? Have you been experiencing writer’s block?”
“Ever since my breakup.” I roll my eyes. “When I caught Sheldon cheating on me, it’s as if that moment sucked out all of my romantic mojo or something. Which royally pisses me off because it’s like he’s still getting the better of me.”
Trenton puffs out his cheeks and blows out a long breath through his lips. “It happens. I played like shit when I found out my best friend was screwing my fiancé.”
My top lip curls. “That makes me so mad for you. Like why bother getting engaged if you’re not fully committed to that person? And your best friend—what kind of friend does that?”
“They’re a perfect pair.” He stares off into the distance at a point over my shoulder.
“Lindsey always wanted me to be more outgoing. Flashier. She wanted to be photographed at all the ritzy places with her Gucci bags. Petroski is the one she should’ve been with all along because that is so not me. ”
“Lindsey sounds like a materialistic bitch.”
He snorts. “You said it.”
“Can I ask...? Why did you propose to her if she wasn’t right for you?”
“Honestly, she was pressuring me to get married. The media kept making comments about how old I am, saying it was time to settle down.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-six.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not that old. Plenty of people get married and have kids later in life nowadays.”
He nods. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.” I shake my head. “I don’t get the concept of cheating. Like, just say you’re unhappy. Have a conversation like an adult. It’s so simple.”
He finally digs into the carton for a spoonful of ice cream. “How did you find out about your ex?”
“I walked in on him.”
Trenton’s eyes widen. “You saw him having sex with another woman?”
“Sure did.” A humorless laugh escapes me.
“He’d been acting strange for a few weeks.
Distant and on his phone a lot. I kept asking him what was wrong and he blamed it on being tired from work.
He’d been under a lot of stress at his firm, so I wanted to do something to surprise him and relieve some of his stress.
I showed up at his apartment completely naked in a trench coat and heels with a three-course meal that I’d slaved over that day.
They were so loud, they didn’t even hear me walk in. ”
He cringes and turns away. “That’s fucking awful.”
“Every time I try to write a sex scene now, all I can picture is the two of them. I hear the sounds they were making. I see the look on her face. It’s like it’ll be forever burned into my brain.”
“It won’t be forever.” He pauses. “Can I ask you a forward question?”
“Sure.”
“Have you been with anyone since then?”
I shake my head as my cheeks tinge with embarrassment. “Pathetic, huh?”
“Not at all.” He shrugs. “I haven’t either.”
I shoot him a dubious look. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“You’re a gorgeous hockey star. I’m sure women throw themselves at you everywhere you go.”
“Doesn’t mean I take them up on it.”
I side-eye him, searching for a sign that he’s lying. All I find is an honest pair of brown eyes.
“I think once you’re with someone else, you’ll have new material for your sex books.”
I laugh. “They’re not just about sex.”
He arches a brow. “How explicit are the scenes?”
“You should read one and find out.”
“Okay.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “Really?”
“Sure. Tell me which one you recommend and I’ll read it. I’ll need something to do while I’m traveling for away games.”
The idea of Trenton reading my book fills me with excitement. I already know which one I’m going to give him.
I shovel a heaping spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. “You know what? Just because we’re pretending to be together doesn’t mean we have to pretend to be happy. I say let’s have fun with this.” I pause. “You know how to have fun, don’t you?”
He smirks. “Yes, smartass.” Then he brings his eyes to meet mine and hold my gaze. “Thank you, by the way. I realize I never said it. Thanks for doing this for me.”
“I’ve got your back now, Neighbor Man.” I clink my spoon against his. “Lucky for you.”