She didn’t laugh at one of his jokes.
It took him a few minutes to realize he was jealous. It was a foreign emotion for him. He hadn’t had a lot to be jealous of over the years. Sure, there’d been a few times in his younger days he wished he hadn’t been the son of a famous hockey player, because of the way people sometimes treated him, but he was also smart enough to know his dad’s name had paved a few bumpy roads for him.
It also helped that his dad wasn’t a prick—that he was, in fact, an all-around decent guy. So any jealousy on the “famous hockey player dad” front had faded.
This? This was new—and almost kind of nice. Knowing Mel was something he couldn’t have. Like he was practicing for all the other things he couldn’t have.
Are you really sure you can’t have her?
He ignored that asshole thought as she made her way back to the table with two glasses of water. She slapped one on the table then slid into the booth across from him.
“No waiters in Blue Valley?”
“Georgia’s understaffed right now, and I was already up there talking to Garret and Al.”
“Yes, I noticed. Talking, chatting, laughing.”
She gave him a “what the hell are you talking about” kind of look, but he kept his gaze on the counter and those two cops as he took a sip of the water.
“I think we’re good on fencing supplies and basic tools.” She got her little notebook out of her pocket—such a nerdy move, but it always drew his gaze to her breasts, which made him wonder about her breasts…which probably wasn’t okay.
Luckily a harried-looking woman set two plates down in front of them before disappearing behind the counter again, distracting him from that dangerous line of thought. His mouth watered at the plate piled high with fatty food.
“I’m thinking we get the place looking better, then make a plan where to go forward. So, menial stuff first. And since you have no food, we hit the grocery store next.” Mel unrolled her silverware from the paper napkin. “Then it’s back to your place. I’ll help you unload, we’ll check out the storage situation. That will probably finish up today. There’s a lot of work ahead of us, but I’m not putting in overtime unless you pay overtime, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re the boss, ma’am. Anything you say, ma’am.”
“It’s good you think so much of yourself. It must make up for all the people who want to smack you upside the head.”
He stiffened, because that hit close to home. A home she didn’t know about. Or, if she did, at least didn’t feel the need to point out. Thank goodness for that. He forced a smile and a flip comment in return. “Doesn’t it just.”
He picked up the burger, stomach rumbling. The breakfast apple pie snack cake thing from the convenience store had been lackluster at best. This burger was huge, thick slices of bacon and cheese hanging off the sides. At least he wouldn’t starve thanks to his lack of cooking skills. “This is not on my diet.”
She looked from her burger, eyebrows raised. “Your diet?”
“So to speak. When I’m not skating every day, I tend to have to be a little more careful about what I eat. Thank you turning thirty.”
“You’re only thirty?”
“Only? How old do you think I am?”
“I thought I read that you were—” She cut herself off, immediately taking a too-large bite of hamburger.
“Oh, you read about me? Do tell.”
She shook her head, chewing, then swallowed it all down with a gulp of water. “I just wanted to make sure you were who you were supposed to be and all that.”
“Right. So, what did you read?”
He had to admit, he enjoyed watching her squirm. It was a nice dinner show to go along with his hamburger. Which was delicious.
He would need to find some kind of workout regimen for when he was here. Once they proved him innocent, some team would sign him. They’d have to, and he couldn’t have gained twenty pounds in the off-season.
She popped a fry into her mouth and took another bite of burger, stalling for as long as she could, but he wasn’t giving in. He kept eating, watching her, waiting for an answer.
“Look, I read a few articles about…the game, and that article in Bright Lights. Which said you were thirty-five, by the way.”
He let the first part slide off his shoulders. She looked more embarrassed by it than accusatory, and he didn’t feel like dwelling on the bad. Not when she’d also looked at his Bright Lights spread. “Okay, so I’m thirty-five. Bright Lights, though—I was shirtless in some of those pictures. Were you reading only for the articles?” He popped the last bite of hamburger in his mouth. Would it be wrong to order another?
“No wonder you’re in such great shape. Carrying around that ego must be hard work.”
He leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms behind his head. “There you go, complimenting my body again. Maybe I should be concerned about sexual harassment.”