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My lips brushed hers, and I wished suddenly that we were alone, and that I could just pull her into my lap and continue this conversation without words.
“Sly.” She pulled back and gave me a stern look. “If all there was to you was hockey and this”—she waved her hands over my chest—“body, these looks...”
“You like my looks?” I grinned at her, happy to lighten the mood for a moment.
“You know you’re hot. But what we both know is that there is a hell of a lot more to you. The way you love your family so much that you’re living in a garage apartment all summer to keep an eye on your dad and help with stuff around the house. The way you take care of Katie, and tolerate fingernail polish and tea parties. The way you look out for me...” She trailed off and looked up into my eyes, and I had the uncomfortable sense that she could see deeply inside me to everything I kept from the world.
“And your motivation and drive,” she went on. “Not just for your sport, but to be something more. To better yourself. To use your not-insignificant intellect to ensure you have a path when hockey ends.” Her hand was on my cheek now, and I leaned into the soft touch.
“Sly, you’re so much more than the looks or the sport. And that is why I’m here.” She leaned in close and kissed me for real, and every cell inside me vibrated in an effort to get closer to her, to seek out more of the warmth, acceptance, and validation she offered.
Shit, I was in trouble.
“Thanks,” I said after she pulled away, leaning my forehead against hers. “That’s really nice to hear.”
“Do you think we should go soon?” she asked.
I moved away so I could get a better look at her. Was she tired of me now that I’d shown her my insecurity? But no. The look on her face wasn’t one that said, “I’m ready to go home now, jerkwad.” It was a whole lot closer to the look I imagined was probably on my own face. One that said something like, “let’s go check out your new bed together.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “My place?”
“You said you’d had the place furnished...I’d love to see it. Last time I was up there to help Violet with something it was full of boxes and dust.”
“Let’s say our goodbyes.”
Five minutes later we were back in my car, and my heart was racing as I thought about what the rest of the night might hold.
CHAPTER17
CLARA
THE VIP TOUR
Seeing Sly with his teammates had been enlightening in a strange way. On one hand, it was clear how close they were, that they had each other’s backs, that the men were as much brothers as they were teammates. But then, on the other hand, it was also clear that Sly had never really let his teammates see the whole of him. He’d never given them the chance to know and support the real Sylvester. He was playing a role, and it made me sad.
But as Sly parked his car and came around to open the door for me, I didn’t feel sad at all. I was experiencing a wide set of sensations—from some kind of bizarre high school do-over feeling to a thrumming excitement moving through me. Was this really happening?
“I feel like we’re sneaking around,” I whispered, as Sly ushered me down the long driveway past his parents’ place and up the back stairway on the garage.
“I mean, we can go in and say hi if you want.” He did not sound in the least like this was what he wanted.
“No,” I laughed. “It’s okay. It’s just bizarre. We could go to my house.” The offer was half-hearted. I wanted to go to Sly’s place, knowing he’d fixed it up with me in mind.
Sly unlocked the door and reached inside to flick on the lights before tugging my hand and pulling me inside. He shut the door and then caged me against it, his broad chest and strong arms holding me there so that all I could see, smell, or think about was him. “What’s bizarre?” he asked. “You and me?”
I stared up into the molten brown chocolate eyes that had been part of my dreams for as long as I could remember, and my body tightened in anticipation. “Yeah, a little bit.”
“Do you want to go to your house?” he asked.
“Not really,” I admitted. Being away from my regular life, away from reminders of Katie and the fact that I was a mom made it easier to fall into the fantasy of Sly Remington.
“That stuff you said...” Sly was looking into my face like it held secrets that would determine the fate of the world, or his, maybe. “About the way I was in high school. Did you really feel that way?”
“Of course I did. So did anyone who knew you. I still do.”
He let out a sound that was part growl, part exhalation, and stepped back, capturing my hand as he did so. “Let me give you the tour.”
We didn’t have to go anywhere for the tour. I could see the entirety of the small apartment—minus the bathroom—from where I stood at the front door. But it had changed a lot. Where the place had been nothing more than storage for as long as I could remember, now it was a sleek, well-appointed studio apartment.
