She opens her mouth to argue, but I lift a hand. “Either I drive you home after I’ve had five minutes to wake up, or you come in and crash in one of the spare rooms. You can take the one furthest from my bedroom, if you’re worried about me trying to consummate this fake relationship,” I tease.
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile. “So you’re saying you’re not going to try?”
“I’m too exhausted.”
“If you weren’t?”
I eye her and she playfully nibbles her bottom lip. “If you’re messing with me, the answer is, even if I weren’t tired, I wouldn’t try to consummate anything. If you’re not messing with me, I suddenly feel wide awake.”
She laughs out loud and I grin, because for some reason my words have lifted her up a bit, lightened the load she always seems to be carrying. Why this woman doesn’t see what I see is beyond me.
Maybe I should show her just how attractive she is.
No, bad idea, dude.
Right. She’s after hot coffee shop guy, not me, and this teasing banter is just that…teasing banter.
After a moment her eyes flick to my front door, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “I don’t have?—”
I cut her off with a half-smile, voice soft and a little raspy from fatigue. “I’ve got spare toothbrushes, and you can borrow some of my clothes. But if you’d rather not… I’ll back out of this driveway and take you straight home.”
She tilts her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Maybe I do want to see how the handsome hockey player lives.”
I arch a brow. “Curious journalist in you, huh?”
“Exactly,” she says with a grin.
“Then come on in,” I say. I unhook my belt, circle the car and open the door for her. Hand extended, I add with mock ceremony, “After you, Rapunzel.”
I catch her shake of the head. “That junior high play was a long time ago, Jaxon. I’ve cut off all my hair since then.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I tease, as she hugs herself to ward off the chill of the night. “You’ll always be Rapunzel to me.”
She laughs, the sound warm and easy, filling the still night air. “Why did you choose Chester the squirrel with the lisp instead of the prince?”
I grin. “Are you saying you wanted me to climb into your tower?”
Her nose crinkles, like she’s trying to decode my words, and I fish my key from my pocket. My breath fogs in front of me as I guide her up the walkway, and that’s when I realize just how sexual that might have sounded after our teasing exchange. “Sorry… that might have come out all wrong.”
She chuckles, brushing off my awkwardness. “You actually climbed into my tower the other night. Rescued me when I was without a date.”
“I owed you one,” I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck, which is sore after taking a hard hit. My body aches in the best way, tired from a hard game, but satisfied.
“You didn’t, but thank you anyway,” she says, widening her arms like she’s taking in the sheer size of my house. “And somehow after all that we’ve ended up here.”
I slide the key into the lock, making a little more room for her to step inside. She pauses, and I catch the soft light from the hallway catching her features. “You would have made a great prince,” she says quietly.
I shake my head, a wry half-smile tugging at my lips. “I’m no one’s prince, Row.”
Her expression softens, earnest. “A guy who always does the right thing. That’s everyone’s prince, Jax.”
I let her words hang, but the corners of my mouth tighten slightly. Maybe once, that was true. But life’s knocks have left me hardened in ways that keep people at a distance. Trust doesn’t come easy anymore, and being anyone’s “prince” feels like a luxury I can’t afford.
I step aside, gesturing for her to enter. “Well… come on in, then, Rapunzel. Tower’s cozy tonight.”
She laughs, stepping past me, brushing lightly against my arm. I feel a jolt—tired as I am, her presence wakes something inside me I can’t name, something lighter than the exhaustion pressing down on my shoulders. I shrug out of my coat and she does the same. I hang them in the front closet.
“Come on, I’ll show you around. But first let me get you a drink.” We walk down the long hallway and into the kitchen. “Coffee?” I offer, fumbling a little with the kettle. “Or tea. Or… wine?”