I groan at the mess I’ve made and the piercing pain in my head.
“Freaking hell,” I mutter and squeeze my eyes closed. Blue dots speckle behind my closed eyes and I open them again at a voice I recognize.
“I’m wondering now if Max was why you slipped and fell or if you’re naturally clumsy.”
It’s Jude, and his warm voice flows through the room like rolling waves, warm and comforting. I hate that I like it so much. Like him so much despite the risk to my emotional health.
“That was all Max,” I groan and stand slowly. I reach one arm out to grab the metal door so I don’t bang into it again and open my eyes. “And I could easily blame this mishap on you, but I don’t want to overinflate your ego.”
He’s standing at the doorway, hands on his hips, a bemused expression on his beautiful face. “This is my fault?”
“Yeah. I was thinking of you.”
“Pretty impossible to forget, aren’t I?”
If only he knew the true extent of his words.
“I owe you an apology, for being so rude the last time I saw you.”
He shrugs and steps into the room. He’s wearing black athletic pants. They hang low on his hips and on top he has a gray fitted long sleeve shirt with Chicago College’s double C logo. It’s difficult to lift my gaze to his face. When I finally manage the feat of putting an end to my visual molestation, he’s smirking at me.
“Forgiven. Although I am bummed you couldn’t meet them. Tracy and Mila are crazy. Something tells me Lizzie would have loved them. But for the record, I have never, and never will be, the kind of guy who plays around with women. It’s not my thing.”
Since we’re confessing, I go next. “I don’t handle unexpected surprises very well. I’m a bit neurotic, actually, with my need to have a stable life.”
I’ve surprised him again, and his beautiful blue eyes widen. He says nothing for a moment but rolls his lips together. “Maybe you’d like to tell me why that is over dinner tonight?”
He’s shooting his shot, and not the least bit hesitant. I admire his confidence in all the things he does. Coupled with my thoughts that maybe we can do this, become friends… or more… until the end of the year, I do something completely out of character for me.
“Sure, Jude. I’d like that.”
His grin is victorious, as intense as it was when he tossed that puck over the glass straight to me.
“When will you be done here?” He gestures at the mess I’ve made.
I’m off work at four, but I’ll need a shower and I don’t really want to go to dinner with him in my school required polo shirt with matching logo over the left side of my chest and my gray yoga pants.
“I can be ready at six.”
“I’ll pick you up.”
I’m about to offer to meet him somewhere, but I figure he’ll want to make sure I don’t take an Uber alone, and then he’ll want to ensure I get home safely. “I’ll be ready.”
“Good.” He steps back and presses a hand to the doorframe before he does a quick scan of the room I’m in and outside. “You probably won’t let me kiss you right now, will you?”
“Not a chance, Taylor.”
“Later?”
“Depends on how good dinner is.” I wink, and the move surprises me. I’ve gone from blowing him off to flirting in one single visit from him. If he’s surprised by my sudden change of heart, he doesn’t show it.
Perhaps I’ve proved my own statement wrong.
I might be a game he can win.
And for the first time in weeks, I’m not scared of losing.
Chapter Nine
“What’s your family like?” I dip a piece of bread into the fancy olive oil and balsamic vinegar swirl on the plate between us. To my surprise, Jude picked me up in an Uber and brought me to an Italian restaurant in the heart of Wrigleyville, far away from campus. I expected a near-campus pizza place or bar and grill, but like so often, I’ve underestimated Jude.
We’ve already ordered and I’m sipping a light Chianti while Jude sticks to water, and I’m carb-loading for no reason except that bread is the best creation since humans.
“My family?” He eyes me in that way of his that’s part questioning, part humorous, and tears off a chunk of bread from the basket.
“Yeah. Did your brothers have fun watching you play? And did you see them over Christmas?” In truth, I have more questions than I’ve dared to ask him yet, but between this afternoon and getting ready, I’ve decided to take a chance. I’ll drop my walls for him far enough so I don’t end up hurt come spring.
He chews on his bread and takes a sip of his drink. “How much do you know about my family?”
I know he grew up mostly in New York, in a ritzy suburb outside the city where they grew up on a lake, ice skating practically in their back yard. There are photos of the Taylor boys all over the internet, skating as soon as Joey, the youngest, was old enough to be on skates. His father was a career player for the Rangers, something very rare, but he still holds several scoring records.
I’m not telling him how much I’ve looked into him over the last few weeks.
“I know you’re all hockey players. That your parents now live here in Chicago. And you have plans to head to North Carolina.”
“Cyberstalking me, Katie?”
Heat suffuses my cheeks. He’s too smart for his own good. “Maybe people talk.”
“And you like to listen?” His teasing grin is impossible to ignore. I give him nothing. Rolling my eyes, I rip off another chunk of bread. “Your family?”
He smiles easily and shrugs. “They’re my family. Not much to say really. Grew up playing hockey, Mom stayed home, constantly running us to games. Dad traveled, obviously, but I was young enough when he retired I don’t remember that much and then he was always around too, coaching us until we were old enough where he didn’t want to be accused of playing favorites with us and let us make our own way.”
“He never pressured you all into hockey? I mean, the four of you all making it… that’s pretty impressive.”
“You know, I think that’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me.”
I laugh. He’s probably not too far off. “I blame the Chianti.”
He joins me in laughter. “Then drink up.” He moves my wineglass even closer to me and winks. “I want to know all the other things you’ve thought about me and if it takes wine to do it, I’m here for it.”
Our server appears and delivers our food. An enormous piece of lasagna for Jude and manicotti for me before she walks away after we assure her we don’t need anything.
When she’s gone, Jude resumes, more serious. “Dad always said he wanted us to follow our dreams, whatever they were. Turns out we took to hockey like he did and none of us have ever looked back. We’ve got natural talent, loads of it, honestly. But we’ve all worked our asses off to get where we are.”
“You don’t like people thinking you get a free pass.” His determination and intensity is stamped on his features.
“People say shit. But we were raised to be hard workers, whether it was in school or sports. My dad was a hard ass, honestly, making us earn everything while teaching us respect. He’s the best guy I know.”