17. Stalk Me All Night Long #2
“You’re used to people…hanging on to you, right?” She waits for me to answer, and I give a reluctant nod. “I saw that woman taking a picture with you before I came in.”
“It happens, true. But I’m not used to you hanging on to me.”
Her smile echoes my regret, even though she says, “I’m just trying to be cautious. Since people do that with you, but also in general. They try to get close to people for all kinds of reasons.”
I raise an eyebrow, half-smiling, then say dryly, “This meeting is doing wonders for my ego.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t mean it like that. I just didn’t want you to think I was…stalking you.”
A laugh escapes me, and I lean in, meeting her gaze. “It’s funny that you think I’d be bothered by that.”
She dips her face briefly, and when she raises it, she says, “Good to know that stalking is approved by you.”
I wave vaguely in the direction of the Marina. “Feel free to wander past my home at night. You remember where I live, right?”
She laughs. “Sort of.”
My jaw drops. “You didn’t write down my address?”
“No,” she says, laughing harder.
“That’s going to make stalking me tougher, Leighton.” I know better than to flirt with her like this. But I know better than to fight on the ice, and sometimes I do that anyway too.
She studies me, a playful glint in those gorgeous blue eyes. “You’re making this hard. We’re supposed to have a deal.”
A gulp of espresso emboldens me. Or maybe that’s her. “I’m not breaking it, am I?” I challenge her, teasing her. If this is all I get, I want to make it good.
“Technically, I suppose not,” she admits.
“So, you’re free to stalk me as long as there are people around? I’ll send you my address just to be safe.”
Another laugh tips her head back, exposing her throat. That throat. Her neck. The softness of her skin. Memory crashes into me, and I wish I could kiss her again.
“I appreciate the invitation. But I probably shouldn’t,” she says, a little wistfully before she shifts to a more serious tone. “Anyway, I didn’t want you to be surprised when you run into me tomorrow at the rink. And I took the assignment because it’s a great opportunity professionally.”
“Absolutely. I should have said congratulations. It does sound good for you. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.” She sips her drink while I finish mine.
Her gaze is still thoughtful, and it’s clear she’s not done yet.
“What I really wanted to say, though, is we won’t be able to completely avoid each other.
” She glances around, checking for prying ears and eyes, then lowers her voice. “My dad gave me the warning.”
My chest tightens. I can guess what that is. “The ‘don’t get involved with a hockey player’ one?”
She winces but nods. “Yes. It was a little…weird.”
“Does he know? Or suspect?” I ask carefully, my jaw ticking.
“No. God, no.” She takes a beat. “He’s just doing his due diligence, I think. It was more like I know how hockey players are—charming and most don’t want to settle down yet, so be on your guard. That kind of thing.”
If she only knew I’d settle down with her in a heartbeat.
My failed relationship with Joanne wouldn’t even stop me.
I know how to work hard and learn from the past. So if I could, I’d explore the fuck out of this ludicrous chemistry that crackles and sparks every time we’re near each other.
I’d see her every night and prove the lie in her father’s statement.
But I also get that proving him wrong has to be earned.
Over time, with evidence, and probably not while I’m trying to become co-captain. It’s too complicated. That’s the big issue—I’ve got responsibilities, plans, and most of all, a second chance.
I don’t want to fuck with something that required so much work and so much rehab to get.
“Your dad’s right about one thing,” I say, keeping things light.
“What’s that?”
“I’m charming as fuck.”
“So cocky.” She shakes her head, amused.
“You’re not denying it.”
She leans forward, locks eyes with me. “I think we’ve already established I’m charmed by you.”
“It’s the same for me.”
I say it quietly, but she hears me. Her smile is soft, borderline sexy. We’re silent for so long that it threatens to tip over into something else, something warm, something dangerous.
But then, Leighton sits taller and clears her throat. “Anyway, the promise we made to never be alone together might need revising due to work circumstances.”
The idea of working closely with her sparks excitement that has no business zipping down my spine. I should focus on the team, the potential captaincy, my family, the increased media scrutiny from Tyler on the team, two Falcons playing together. Already, the press requests are coming in fast.
“We’ll need to interact one-on-one sometimes,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe the best way forward is to focus on building a genuine friendship.”
Her smile spreads, nice and easy. “I’d like that, Miles.”
I arch a playful brow. “So no stalking?”
“I don’t think friends stalk each other.”
“But they can have coffee and pastries,” I say, offering her a fork.
She takes it with a reluctant laugh, but a flicker of something warmer in her eyes. “Let’s be friends. It’ll be easier that way.”
If friendship is all I can have with Leighton, I will take it. Oh hell, will I take it. “Everyone can use a friend.”
“They can,” she says, then hands me the other fork.
We dig into the caramel toffee bar at the same time, the tines of our forks clinking. That feels a little like a metaphor.
And since friendship starts with talking, I point my fork at the bar, saying, “Caramel and toffee? Do you think Birdie’s saying you don’t always have to pick sides.”
Leighton thoughtfully polishes off a bite. “So you’re saying this pastry is kind of subliminal messaging?”
“That feels like Birdie’s style.”
She laughs, warm and bright, and peers down at the treat. “I don’t think she’s wrong. Too much of a good thing doesn’t necessarily make a bad thing. Maybe it just makes a very good thing.” She wiggles her brows. “How’s that for philosophy?”
“Very philosophical, Shutterbug,” I say.
She digs in her fork again, nodding to the front of the shop. “Have you two always been close?”
“Definitely. She helped raise us—my brother, sister, and me—after my dad left.”
Leighton sits up straighter, her expression shifting to something tender. “Wow, that’s…big. So she wasn’t just a grandmother who took the kids to the park and gave good birthday presents.”
“Exactly,” I say, my voice softening. “She helped Mom a ton. Picked us up from school, took Tyler and me to hockey, did animal rescue events with Charlie—my sister has always been into animals. Birdie did all that before Mom remarried. And after too, honestly.”