I snort. “No. I barely know him. Can’t really blame him.”
“Mm. I don’t know about that, Rowyn. If he said he was coming, he should’ve come. No excuses.”
“Maybe something came up. We didn’t exchange numbers, and he said he’d try.”
“You like him, huh?”
Wait. Did his hand just tighten on the steering wheel? Jeez, a guy I’ve known forever suddenly has my heart doing gymnastics?
Suddenly? Really Rowyn, are you trying to say you’ve never fantasized about him before?
“I thought he was cute,” I admit, “…but I really don’t know him. Other than that he’s a medical sales rep named Matt.”
He grins, and my stomach does a little flip. Cute? That’s barely scratching the surface of this man.
“So, you want to get to know him?” he probes.
Where is he going with this?
He takes one hand off the wheel and pinches the bridge of his nose, a loud exhale escaping him. “What?”
“I…can’t believe I’m going to suggest this.”
“You’re scaring me,” I joke.
Blue eyes lock with mine for a heartbeat, and warmth spreads through me like the sun breaking through a cloud. “You know, when I was home at Christmas, I watched this ridiculous Christmas movie with Mom and Dad.”
I smile, the tension in my chest easing just a little. “I love your mom and dad.”
I love my mom too, but I carry so much guilt. She gave up a life she wanted, a career, to raise me. Every time I visit there are subtle reminders that love means sacrifice and that in order to stay at the top of my journalistic game, I need to keep my head down and my brain focused on the job.
But…is sacrifice really all bad? My stomach clenches. There’s a part of me, buried and hesitant, that longs for a family, a husband, a little chaos wrapped up in a cozy, predictable life. I’ve never told anyone—especially my mom, who would only warn me that it brings unhappiness and resentment—but the thought sneaks up on me sometimes.
“Yeah, they’re the best. Except for their weird obsession with Christmas and mistletoe alarms at the inn,” he says lightly.
“I almost got caught under that alarm.”
He winces. “With who?”
“Your father.”
“Oh, Jesus,” he groans. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. I mean he’s handsome and all. You obviously get your good looks from him but still…”
He arches a brow, a cute playful grin quirking the corners of his lips. “You think I’m handsome?”
3
Jaxon
As I grin at her, she throws her head back and laughs, streetlights spilling through the windshield and catching the highlights in her hair. “That’s what you took from that story?” she asks, voice teasing.
“Well, I mean. Yeah. If you’re going to make it all about me…”
She laughs harder, the sound curling in my stomach like warm whiskey. “You hockey players and your healthy egos.” She shakes her head, brushing a piece of hair from her cheek, but her eyes flick sideways at me, sparkling. She knows I’m playing.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, flicking on my blinker. I’m not one of those guys who struts around like he’s king of the rink, cock of the walk. I’ve never been the knight in shining armor type. Or any kind of prince. So what I’m about to do is way off brand.