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I sent Ian a bunch of texts, and he picked me up. The alcohol caused me to forget my address, so he brought me to his house. Of course, he was a gentleman and made me take the spare bedroom instead of taking advantage of my drunken state. The half-empty bottle of water and the aspirin container sit on the nightstand as a reminder of how sweet he is for ensuring I was taken care of.
I grab the aspirin and take two more. There is enough water to wash them down but not enough to quench my thirst. I seriously envy people who have never experienced a hangover. This is one of the many reasons I don’t drink often.
The same sweet smell that woke me wafts into the room again, and my stomach growls. What did Ian make that smells so delicious?
With heavy limbs, I pick my clothes off the floor and dress myself at a sloth’s pace before padding down the hall, following the delicious aroma like it’s a trail of breadcrumbs.
“You’re alive,” Ian states when I walk into the kitchen.
He’s sitting at the table grading paperwork with glasses perched on his nose, somehow making him sexier.
“I might be alive, but I feel like death,” I grumble.
He chuckles. “I figured you might say something like that. You did drink enough to forget your own address.”
Getting up, he heads toward the oven and opens it, causing the sweet smell to grow, which makes my stomach growl some more.
“Are you hungry?” he checks.
I nod. “I’m starving.”
“Sit at the table,” he instructs. “I’ll dish you up some pancakes. Do you want coffee too?”
“Yes, please,” I whisper, enjoying him taking care of me. “Black is fine.”
He nods, and a small smile spreads across his face as he dishes up a plate for me.
I’m going to bask in his kindness while I can because it won’t last for long. Eventually, he’s going to restate how we need to keep our distance and send me on my way. At least I’mprepared for it.
“Did you sleep all right?” he asks, setting a plate of pancakes and coffee in front of me. He then takes a seat across from me at the table.
“I think I did,” I reply, sipping the delicious, caffeinated bean juice. “I passed out pretty solidly.”
Ian chuckles. “I noticed. When I peaked in to check on you this morning, you were dead to the world.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. It’s one of the many reasons I don’t get drunk often.”
“Could you get in trouble with the hockey team for drinking while being underage?” Ian inquires with a sweet and caring tone.
“If I was still underage, yes,” I reply. “But I turned twenty-one two days before classes started.”
“Oh,” Ian murmurs. “I’m sorry for assuming you would do something reckless like that.”
I wave him off. “Don’t apologize. It happens more often than it should. Most guys don’t think they’ll ever get caught. Lots don’t, but it was never a risk I was willing to take. I’m kind of a rule follower, for the most part. I respect my team too much to do something stupid that would jeopardize my ability to play.”
He smiles, and I’m pretty sure there is a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Are you planning on going pro when you’re finished?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been told I have the potential to make it if I wanted to, but that was never my dream.”
“Does your dream have something to do with helping sick kids?” he asks, resting his elbows on the table and leaning toward me.
My brows fly up, and I almost gasp. He remembered our conversation at the resort. When he asked how I would live my life if money weren’t an issue, I told him I would make sure that no sick kid ever had to be alone. I saw it too much in the foster care system, and if I could prevent that from happening, I would.
“At first, I considered being a pediatric doctor, but I quickly realized I couldn’t handle it if I lost a patient, so I’m going into sports medicine,” I tell him, waiting for the common response I normally receive about how challenging it is going to be. Like I’m not already aware of that fact.
“That’s awesome,” he replies with a genuine grin. “Do you want to work with hockey players or in a different sport?”
“Working for a hockey team would be my first choice, but it would also be cool to work at a university like GSU taking care of a bunch of different athletes,” I explain.
