Chapter Twelve #3
Not wanting to feel like a sob story and bring down the celebratory mood of their victory against Pittsburgh, I brush it off.
“Mila, my best friend, is basically my sister. We’ve been nearly inseparable since we were four.
Her family owns a restaurant in Brooklyn, not far from where I lived with my mom. ”
Two lines appear between his brows. “Mila’s Bistro?”
He knows it? “Yeah. Have you been?”
He nods. “They have the best chicken cutlets. I’ve tried making them on my own but can never make them taste the same.”
I grin, knowing that Manuel takes special pride in his cutlets. He calls them Italian delicacy. They use them in just about every chicken dish, whether it be chicken parmesan, pasta, or their poultry special of the day. “We’ll have to go sometime so you can tell Manny that yourself.”
The invitation comes out before I can think about it, and an easy, pleased smile forms on his face. “We should.”
Just as quickly as that smile appears, it slips a fraction when a new body drops into the spot beside Olive. “Sorry I’m late,” the newcomer apologizes in a gruff tone, pressing a kiss against Olive’s cheek.
I know who it is without asking.
It isn’t the way her eyes light up when he pecks her cheek that gives his identity away, or the way his chair slides closer to hers like he wants to be as close as possible to her.
Despite the love between them being absorbable in the atmosphere, it’s the way Bodhi’s arm flexes behind me, then relaxes that gives his identity away.
This is Alexander O’Conner.
“Hey,” Bodhi greets first, tipping his head in Alex’s direction. “Good game, dude.”
It’s a pleasant greeting. One that Bodhi seems genuine about. But there’s something in his eyes that goes beyond friendly competition—a wariness that doesn’t sit right with me. Is he…jealous? Does that make me jealous?
Fake date, I remind myself, when that green monster settles into my chest like an unwelcome nuisance.
“Thanks,” Alex replies, taking a sip of the untouched water at his place. “Congrats on the win. We almost had you.”
They were 0-0 up until the last ten minutes.
I may not know a lot about the sport, but I knew it was a game that was about to go down in history because of how well each team played.
I’d even been a little mesmerized by the players on the ice, nearly forgetting to capture them until Karina hastily reminded me to focus on my current task when I’d seen Bodhi flying by me to work the right side of the rink.
It’s Sebastian who says, “I almost pissed myself thinking we were going into overtime with no score on the board. The way we all played, I wasn’t sure if they’d call it.”
Alex chuckles, extending an arm on the back of Olive’s chair the same way Bodhi does with mine. It looks a subconscious move on his part, so I wonder what the motive is with the man sitting beside me. “I think that sentiment was felt on both sides.”
Bodhi finishes his water and sits back. “Who are you up against next?” he asks Alex, his voice even and casual.
There’s no tension in it like I expect there to be.
In fact, his body relaxes as he settles into his chair, and I feel the subtle brush of his fingertips against my right arm. Does he know he’s touching me?
Olive slides the canister of water that our waiter left in the middle of the table over to Bodhi to refill his cup. “We travel to Florida next week and then have a home game against the Bruins a few days after that.”
Guess I know what Max will be up to next week since he’ll be rooting for his favorite team. I do my best not to let my brow twitch at the thought of him.
Olive’s attention slides back to me. “How do you like working for the team?”
“It’s…” I wet my lips, trying to come up with the best way to describe it. “Interesting,” I settle on, cringing at how unconvincing that sounds.
Thankfully, she smiles. “Based on the people my brother calls friends, I’m not surprised. The guys will keep you on your toes.” She playfully elbows Sebastian and grins at Bodhi from across the table. “Do you see your dad a lot there?”
Her easy line of questioning allows the conversation to flow but makes me feel bad for not returning the favor.
It isn’t because I’m not interested. Social interactions have never come particularly easy for me.
Pair my natural awkwardness with Bodhi’s fingers tracing absentminded lines on the side of my arm, and my brain all but short circuits.
“We don’t see each other that much at the stadium,” I tell her, clearing my throat. I silently will myself to move or will Bodhi to stop. I don’t do either, though. “I’m sure that will be different when we start traveling to away games.”
Which is next week.
First stop, California.
Then, Washington.
Which means a lot of potential one-on-one time with not only my father, but Bodhi.
He’s already told me he’d save me a seat on the plane, not that I think it’s up to him who sits where.
It’s a nice thought. Not because sitting next to my father would be that torturous since we’ve started having dinner together at least twice a week, but because the idea of being next to Bodhi for that long sounds… nice.
Maybe too nice.
Especially if the faintest touch of his fingertips is…oh my God. Are my nipples hard right now? They are. Bodhi Hoffman is making my nipples hard by a simple caress of my bicep.
I’m pathetic. Horny and pathetic.
The rest of dinner seemingly goes well, with conversations about travel schedules melding into the teams they look forward to going against compared to the ones they’re loathing to see.
Olive asks me a few more questions about myself, like how I met Bodhi, where I lived before moving back, and how I like it here, earning a confused look from Sebastian and a blank one from Bodhi, and eventually gave me a hug in parting when dinner was over.
“It was so nice meeting you,” she tells me, squeezing me once. “You and Bodhi are really cute. The way he looks at you…” I blush at her wistful sigh. “I’m happy for him.”
Unsure of what to say, especially because of Bodhi’s looming presence behind me as he listens to her gush about her “cuteness”, all I squeak out is, “Thank you.”
And when she and Alex are walking hand in hand down the sidewalk to an Uber he ordered for them, I finally turn to the man whose body heat is soaking into me. “How did I do?” I ask, looking up at him.
Thankfully, my nipples calmed down between the entrée and dessert when Bodhi’s hands were too focused on eating to be anywhere near me.
His eyes are already pointing down at my face, studying it in a way that I feel all the way down to my toes. “If this were a real date, I’d kiss you right now.”
The words make me suck in a silent breath.
Was he feeling it too? The torment of being close to him?
The tiny sparks shooting down his limbs as he stroked my skin in a casual caress?
It seemed like nothing to him—as if I were the only one who was going mad.
As if everything he did in there was to play up whatever this was between us for Olive. Not for me. Not for him.
Am I wrong?
Bodhi clears his throat, backing away. I’m almost sad about it.
“But I won’t,” he promises, mistaking my silence for discomfort.
What he can’t tell is that disappointment lingers in my chest, even though I shouldn’t want him to kiss me.
I shouldn’t want him to touch me, either, but I certainly wasn’t minding.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he glances into the restaurant window where Sebastian is still talking to a couple who’d called out to him as we made our way to the exit. “I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
The fact he’s not going to acknowledge the kiss comment makes me force myself to forget it. At least until I’m home alone where I can obsess over it and then overthink why I’m obsessing.
I already know the answer.
I haven’t been kissed in years.
Literal. Years.
Two, to be exact. It was a sad, sad fact I’d thought about all too often toward the end of my marriage. Intimacy had flown out the window long before then. Even when we had sex, Max didn’t kiss me. It was very Pretty Woman of him, minus the prostitution, romance, and money.
And the happy ending.
“You were really playing it up,” I compliment, glancing down at Puck. I had to take him out halfway through the dinner, mostly as an excuse to get away from Bodhi’s barely-there touches that felt way too good.
Bodhi’s brows pinch. “Was I?”
As if he doesn’t know. “You were very touchy feely. Olive definitely bought that there was something going on. So, you did it. You convinced her.”
He gives me a blank stare that I can’t decipher, and I’m not sure what he’s thinking.
Sighing to myself, I shake it off. “I’m looking forward to our next fake date,” I say, regretting it the second the words are out of my mouth. “Not that I think there needs to be one. She did think we look cute together.”
His eyes flash with something unreadable but happy before a slow smile curves his lips. “Good to know.”
Before either of us can speak again, Sebastian walks out and beelines for Bodhi. “So…” He looks between us with an inquisitive eye that makes me squirm a little. “What exactly is going on here?”
My eyes widen at Sebastian’s sharp, suspicious tone. It’s not me he’s looking at, but Bodhi.
Bodhi simply smiles at him. “Honor and I were just talking about getting dinner sometime. Again. Just the two of us.”
The implication that we’re planning a date—like a real date—has me gawking at Bodhi, who doesn’t seem to notice my gaping expression.
“It’s about time you pulled your head out of your ass,” Sebastian says, shoving Bodhi’s arm.
What does that mean? “Uh…”
Sebastian crosses his arms on his chest. “But do you want to explain to me why my little sister seemed to think you were together before you told me? Your best friend?”
Double uhhhh.
I glance down at Puck, who’s sitting quietly beside me like the good boy he is. I wonder if the boys would notice if we disappeared into a taxi. Probably.
There’s growing tension between the boys as they have some sort of telepathic conversation amongst themselves.
“We should get going,” I tell them. Their face-off reminds me of all the times Mila and I would communicate through wave lengths. Well, we’d try anyway. Half the time we had no clue what the other person was getting at.
Bodhi breaks his gaze first. “I’ll drive you.”
Sebastian says, “Don’t think this conversation is over, Hoffman.”
Bodhi’s walking toward me, putting his palm on my lower back once more. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Henderson.”
I’m not sure what’s happening.
I’m not sure I want to know.
All I can focus on is the heat from his hand soaking through my shirt and setting my back on fire.
When the valet pulls his car around, he opens the back door for Puck to jump in before doing the same for me on the passenger side. I stop at the curb and peek up at him through my lashes.
I’m not sure why I do it, or if I even have time to question it. One moment we’re staring at one another, and the next I’m standing on my tip toes and pressing my mouth against his cheek.
Except, at the last second, he moves his head a fraction and grazes the corner of my mouth with his. It’s such a quick moment, but I feel it all the same. My skin buzzes from my lips to my toes, and I curl them into my shoe at the sensation coursing through me.
I drop back down and hold my breath, ignoring the electricity that stands the hair on my arms up.
His intense blue eyes are locked on mine, and I’m not sure if he’s breathing. But then he says, “Get in,” in a hoarse voice that tells me he’s just as impacted by…this, by us, as I am.
It’s both comforting and terrifying at the same time.
After I slide into my seat, Bodhi bends down and grabs my seatbelt. And when his hands graze my body to buckle me in, my legs clench together involuntarily.
He sucks in a breath, turning a fraction to look at me. “You have no idea how much…” His throat bobs with a swallow, and he stops himself from finishing with a shake of his head.
I have to take a deep breath and force my body to relax despite him still being in my personal space. “What?”
Bodhi closes his eyes for a minute. “You should know something.” He pauses, opening his eyes to meet mine. “I wasn’t playing up anything in there, Honor.”
That’s all he says before he withdraws, closes my door, and rounds the front of the car.
I’m left with that last piece of truth the entire way home, unknowing of what to do with it, and too scared to admit how much I really like hearing it.