The silence comes back and I grin. “What now?”
He doesn’t answer me right away, and I can just see him sitting there, smiling and looking all hot and shit. “Well, I have to go to practice.”
“Ah, hockey.”
“Yeah, the best sport ever.”
“That’s debatable,” I comment and he pauses.
“Not a fan?”
“Not so much.”
“Probably ’cause you haven’t seen me play. You should come check me out sometime.”
“Is that right?”
“Yup, and I bet you’ll love it after that.”
I want to watch him. Badly. But I can’t let him know that.
“I’ll even take you to dinner afterward.”
“Pizza?”
“Oh, yeah. Or hell, we can Netflix and chill for sure.”
“You’re very persuasive, Sinclair.”
“And you’re beautiful.” He says it so simply, with so much meaning, that my heart is racing as I suck in a deep breath.
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Good, my goal is to keep you on your toes.”
Closing my eyes, I shake my head as I soar through the clouds. “So I guess I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yup, I’ll be in the front row, screaming for you because, baby, you’re my June Carter.”
“Oh wow, Lame Line Larry.”
He laughs. “Don’t hate, June.”
“Goodness me, does that make you Johnny Cash?”
“Your biggest fan? Yeah.”
“That’s corny.”
“Hey, I’m known for that,” he says with teasing in his voice. “But I gotta go.”
“For hockey,” I deadpan, a little sad. I don’t want to stop talking to him.
“Hey, someone’s gotta support the kids while you’re working your way to the top.”
“Oh my, really?” I laugh and his chuckles run down my spine.
“Just saying,” he says between laughs. “But I’ll see you tonight.”