Eric studied him a moment with those sharp, espresso eyes, as if he wasn’t sure if Kyle was kidding or not. Then his lips curved up into that sexy hint of a smile he liked to torture Kyle with, and Kyle turned his attention to the last bite of his empanada. His safe, uncomplicated empanada.
“Your semester must be almost over,” Eric said.
Kyle swallowed his food. “Yeah. Next week.”
“You don’t seem stressed out about it.”
“It’s just one class. I have a term paper to hand in, but it’s pretty much done. Just fine tuning it.”
Eric was smiling at him again. “What?” Kyle asked.
“I’ll bet you’re a good writer.”
Kyle shrugged. “I’m all right. Fast, usually. I enjoy the research more than the writing.”
“I did too, when I was in school.”
“I think you’re the first Harvard grad I’ve met who saysschoolinstead ofHarvard,” Kyle teased.
Eric grabbed a napkin and wiped his fingers. “I went there for hockey, not because I’m a genius.”
Kyle huffed. “Right. And did all of your teammates at Harvard graduate?”
Eric hesitated, then admitted, “No.”
“And how many NHL players have Harvard degrees?”
Eric balled up his napkin and set it on his empty paper bag. “Currently?”
“Sure. Or, hell, how many haveeverhad Harvard degrees?”
Eric’s lips twisted, then he said, “Just me, currently, I think. And maybe... I don’t know. Three? Five? Ever? I’m really not sure.”
“So we’re agreed then? You’re extraordinary.”
Eric shook his head, but his eyes sparkled. “I like to read. That doesn’t make me extraordinary.”
Everything about Eric was extraordinary. Kyle was struck with an overwhelming sense of disbelief that the man eating empanadas with him was really Eric Bennett. How wasthisKyle’s real life?
They’d both finished eating, and Kyle found himself clamoring to come up with a reason to prolong their time together. “There’s a great café on the next block,” he said.
Eric gave him a warm smile that turned Kyle’s heart to mush. “I could go for a coffee.”
They decided to take the coffee to go and walk on the High Line. As they strolled along the trail, Kyle sipped his latte and hunched his shoulders against the cold. He’d been out of Vermont for too long, for the cold to be bothering him this much.
“So why aren’t you dating Jeanette?” Kyle asked. “She seems amazing.”
“She is,” Eric agreed, “but her wife wouldn’t like that.”
“Ah.” Kyle found he wasn’t too sad about that. “Did your ex get some of your art collection in the divorce?”
“We split everything fairly. There were a couple of pieces that she liked more than I did, so she took those. I let her have most of the furniture from our old house. I wanted to start fresh.”
“That must have been rough.” Kyle had never been part of a breakup that hadstuffinvolved. He couldn’t imagine having that stress heaped on top of heartbreak.
“It wasn’t so bad. Holly and I are both pretty low-drama. She comes from money anyway, so the financial side wasn’t as big a deal as it might have been otherwise. I was pretty indifferent to splitting everything up.” He huffed. “I guess I was pretty indifferent to the entire marriage, especially for the last few years. We both were.”
Kyle had only been in relationships that burned white hot, then extinguished quickly and—for himself, anyway—unexpectedly. “So it wasn’t a surprise? The divorce?”