She nods. “I understand. What is it you do for a living?”
I didn’t think she recognized me. “I’m a hockey player.”
Those long eyelashes flutter up and down a few times. “Oh. Like a professional hockey player?”
“Yeah. For the Bears.”
“Well, that explains it.”
Still smiling, I say, “Explains what?”
“The big-dick cocky attitude.”
My smile disappears. “What?”
She shrugs. “You seem full of yourself.”
Now my forehead tightens as my eyebrows pull down. “Full of myself? What?”
“Just my impression.” Then she bites her plump bottom lip. “Er…will you still give me that reference?”
I stare at her. I shake my head. “Yeah, sure. Uh, people are usually more impressed when I tell them what I do for a living.”
She snorts. “I’ll clap when I’m impressed.”
The laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. Jesus. She’s…amazing. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled?”
“You bet.”
Lilly eyes Otis, slides off the stool, and steps over to the bag with his belongings. I watch her unpack things, her silky hair sliding over her shoulders. She’s wearing black leggings and a long white T-shirt with a loose gray sweater over it, her sunglasses tucked into the V-neck of the sweater. Nothing sexy or revealing, but goddammit, she’s incredibly fuckalicious.
Eventually she brings the food and water dishes to the kitchen and makes herself at home filling Otis’s dish from the tap, then setting the bowl on the floor. Otis immediately slurps it up.
Yeah, he was in good hands with her.
I’d like to be in her good hands.
Jesus, that’s inappropriate. I gotta shut that down. Sadly, my dick has roused again.
“Orange juice?” I ask her roughly, keeping my back to her as I open the fridge.
“Yes, please.”
I take my time carrying the jug of juice and a couple of glasses to the counter since these sweatpants don’t hide much. She’s sitting again, holding her coffee mug in both hands. She sets the cup down and reaches for the jug to pour juice for us while I load up two plates and set them on the counter.
“Wow, this is amazing.” She gazes down at the plate.
I grin and take a seat on another stool, sliding it away from her so I’m not close enough to smell her, because damn, she smells good. “You haven’t tasted it yet.” I pass her the container of sour cream. “For the hash browns.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “You clearly don’t count calories.”
“Sure I do.” I pat my flat abs, and her eyes linger there. “Takes work to stay in this kind of shape.”
She rolls her eyes.
“But I have cheat days.”
“Oh. Okay, a cheat day. Let’s go with that.” She drops a spoonful of sour cream on her potatoes, then forks some up while I do the same. “Oh. My. God. This is fantastic.”
I imagine her saying those words in that throaty voice in bed. I clear my throat. “Are you ready to clap now?”
She chokes on a laugh and drops her head forward. “Almost.” She digs in again. “I feel my arteries clogging. But that’s okay, it’s worth it.”
“I doubt your arteries are clogging. How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Hey, me too.”
“Really?” She tips her head. “You look older.”
I feign insult. “Gee thanks.”
“No, no! I don’t mean that in a bad way. Maybe it’s because you’re so big.”
“I am a big boy.” I give her a knowing look.
She rolls her eyes, unfazed. “Riiiiight.”
This amuses me. Our eyes meet and we share another smile, and damn, it’s hot in here. Her eyes widen fractionally and I think she feels it too. I want to make a dirty comment, but she’s alone in an apartment with a man she barely knows and I don’t want to creep her out.
Instead, I say, “So. Dog walking.”
She grins. “Yeah. Why not?”
“No, why?” I remember that day in the park when she mentioned her messed up life.
“Working with people hasn’t gone so well for me. I think working with dogs will be better.”
She has me curious. “Is that what you meant when you said your life is a dumpster fire?”
She sighs. “Yeah. I lost my job last week. And it took me a year to find it.” One corner of her mouth deepens in a glum smile.
“Huh. You don’t look like someone who’d have a hard time finding a job.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “What does that mean?”
“You’re hot.”
“So you’re saying I could work as a stripper?”
I choke. “No! Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
Her lips thin. “Believe me, I considered it.”
Holy shit.
She shakes her head. “It’s a long story. Anyway, I think this will work out better for me than trying to find another job.”
She sounds a little defensive. “Hey, sounds reasonable to me.” Actually, it sounds kind of crazy. Does she really think she can make a living walking dogs? “Do you want me to give you the reference before you go?”
“That would be great. Since I won’t see you again.”
Okay. Way to be blunt. “I’ll do it after we eat.”
“So when you were away…I thought it was business.”
My lips quirk. “It was.”
“But you were playing hockey.”
“Yeah. That’s my business.” She’s still not clapping. Dammit. Why do I want to impress her? “We were on a road trip. Two games, Miami and Tampa Bay.”
“Did you win?”
“Of course.” There’s no of course about it; things haven’t been going that great lately.
“How long have you played for the Bears?”
“This is only my second season, and last year I got traded here in February, so I haven’t actually played here that long.”