Me: Maybe it’s bedtime?
Miranda: Maybe. How was the game?
Me: It was good. Thanks for asking.
Everywhere I go, I get asked about hockey. How’s the team shaping up this year, Jake? Think you guys will go all the way again? How’d you manage to get that goal in the net? Sometimes I wish people saw me as more than a hockey player, but then I remember that’s pretty much all I am. I like that Miranda remembered I had a game tonight.
Miranda: Economics just might bore me to death.
Me: U prob just need some sleep. Have u been studying all evening?
Miranda: I picked up a shift at the bar and just started studying when I got home 30 minutes ago.
Me: You’ve been on your feet all day. Get some rest.
Miranda: I will. Have a good night.
Me: U too.
I sit with my phone in my lap, staring out the window as the cab driver makes his way to my hotel. What was with me just then? No playful banter or sexual innuendo. I could tell she wasn’t up for it, but it was more than that.
Miranda has to be exhausted. It’s impressive, the way she works two jobs and goes to school. Working at hockey is different. It’s physically demanding, but I’ve never had to balance as much as she does.
The more I get to know her, the more interested I get. Beneath the sass and spark I like so much, Miranda is a strong, driven woman. Before meeting her, I couldn’t have put into words exactly what I wanted in a woman.
I can now, though. I want her.
Chapter 10
Miranda
I don’t see Jake again until Wednesday. When I push my cleaning cart into his room that morning, he’s sitting at the desk in his suite, wearing athletic shorts that give me a nice view of his muscular legs, a T-shirt and dark-rimmed reading glasses.
The glasses are unexpectedly hot.
“Good morning,” I say, feeling awkward. “Want me to come back later?”
“No, come in. I’m just reviewing a contract before I go to practice.”
“You have to do that yourself? Don’t you have an agent or an attorney?”
“Yeah, but I like to read through all my contracts myself. It’s the only time I get to put my business degree to use.”
I look at the screen and see he’s marked several questions on the document.
“Business? That’s what I’m studying.”
“What are you hoping to do when you’re done?”
I shrug. “No idea. Just something besides this. I won’t be done for four or five more years anyway because I can only afford to go part-time.”
I pick up a dirty T-shirt from the couch and an empty water bottle from the coffee table. His room service tray from breakfast is sitting off to the side of the room. Just once in my life, I’d like to get room service. I can’t even imagine having a tray of food delivered to the luxurious suite I’m staying in.
“Just one sec,” Jake says, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen. He saves the document he’s working on, closes the computer screen and gets up, taking off his glasses and leaving them on the desk.
I want him to put them back on, but I don’t say so.
He pushes the room service cart to the door, opens it and leaves the cart in the hallway, then comes back in and picks up a pair of pants from the floor.
“You don’t need to do any of this,” I say. “I’ve got it.”
“I don’t mind.” He gives me a serious look. “Hey, there’s a pair of socks in the bedroom that I need kept out of the dirty laundry until we lose.”
I give him a puzzled look. “Your team, you mean?”
“Yeah. We won Monday night, so I need to wear the same socks I wore that night for every game now.”
“Because…it was the socks that did it for you?”
“I’ve got my superstitions.”
“You’ll change your underwear, I hope?”
He grins. “Who says I’m not freeballin’?”
“I don’t even want to know.”
“It’s just the socks,” he says. “And I also won’t shave during our streak.”
“Really?”
“Just wait ’til the playoffs. I’ll have a caveman beard then.”
When are the playoffs? Will he still be around here then? I don’t want to ask, but at the same time, I do.
“So…” He clears his throat. “Speaking of my superstitions, it’s game day, and I’ve gotta get to the rink to start my pregame stuff.”
“Is that why you’re nervous?”
He lowers his brows, considering. “I wouldn’t call it nervous, exactly. I just have a game-day mindset. It really starts when I get to the rink, but I kind of start getting myself mentally prepared when I first wake up.”
“Oh.”
I don’t understand any of this, but then, I’ve never played a sport. And Jake plays at the highest level. I never considered that he doesn’t just play hockey, he’s expected to play it well. That has to be nerve-wracking.
“So I wanted to ask you,” he says, clearing his throat again, “do you have plans tomorrow night?”
My heart stops beating. I swear it does. I can’t even breathe for a couple seconds. Is he asking me out?
“I have to study for a test I have coming up.”
Nice, Miranda. You could have made something up so it at least sounds like you have a social life.
“Can you maybe study another time?”
“Why?”
Ask me out, please. Even though I should say no, I want to remember what it feels like.
“I need to pick out flooring for my apartment. The contractor’s leaving some samples for me, and I wondered if you might help me pick one.”
“Me? I know nothing about that stuff.”
He shrugs. “There’s no wrong choice. It’s just a bunch of different shades of hardwood.”
“Oh.”
“And I was thinking we could get dinner, too.” He meets my gaze seriously. “I feel like a real asshole over Friday night. You must’ve paid for the cab. And God knows what I said in my drunken stupor.”
I smile at him. “You admitted that you have an unusually small dick.”
“Bullshit,” he scoffs.
“No, it was fine. We had a moment over it. The cab driver said he’s got one, too.”