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I sighed and leaned back on my elbows. “Because,” I said, looking at him, “I’m a waitress at the Cheesecake Factory.”
His lips pulled right up.
“What are you smiling about?”
“I just really like cheesecake.” He fought a laugh. “So, my next question. If they have money, why are you a waitress at the Cheesecake Factory?”
“Because I did one year studying law and decided that being lorded over by my mother in both my personal and professional life would drive me to jump off a cliff by my twenty-fifth birthday. As you can see, I passed that without my death,” I said. “My dad is a hotshot lawyer, and my mom is a paralegal. That’s the family business. Until they snuff it, I’m serving cheesecake to people who probably shouldn’t be eating a whole lot of it.”
“I want to say that sucks, but you made that choice, so…good for you.”
“It’s not all bad. Sometimes, I get to take the leftover cheesecake home. Which was why I had to lose ten pounds before this wedding,” I muttered.
“Really? You had to lose ten pounds? Where did you lose them?”
“Somewhere in the middle of DisneyWorld. Although, if that were the case, they’d have found me again.”
Adam chuckled. “True story. I have to stay away during the season, or that place messes up my entire diet.”
“You go to DisneyWorld?”
“Four sisters. One is married, one engaged long-term, and two nieces and a nephew. I take the kids. They go for the magic, I go for the food, and I get major uncle and brother points. Everyone wins.”
“I really need to steal Rory more often.”
“Does your family live in Orlando?”
I shook my head. “My parents split their time between Miami, where the law firm is based, and Key West. They’re old enough now that they can work part-time for the most part. And Rosie and Mark live in Fort Lauderdale.”
“Where were you born?”
“Hey, you’re asking an awful lot of questions for someone who wasn’t embarrassed earlier today.”
His eyes sparkled. “Fine. You go. Ask me whatever you want. I’m an open book.”
“Okay.” I pretended to think. “Why didn’t you tell me you were an uber-famous hockey player?”
“I told you that already.”
“I know. I just wanted you to know that I’ll never let you live that down.”
He nodded slowly. “Point taken. I’ll do better next time.”
“Damn right you will. Okay, where were you born?”
“In Orlando,” he said, eyes still on mine.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine in October.”
“What made you want to play hockey?”
“Ooh.” He tilted his head to the side. “I don’t really know. My family has always been big lovers of it, and both my grandad and my dad played it in school, but my dad kind of petered it out in college when he realized he wasn’t really good enough to make the major leagues.”
“But you knew you were?”
“I got on the ice when I was four for the first time. It was an easy thing to become obsessed with, you know? My dad would take me to all the home games for the Storms, and I guess I just felt at home on the ice. I was the worst teenager ever. I didn’t party or go wild. I had great grades and it meant I could get a scholarship to college for hockey.”
“Woah.”
“That sounded like a shocked whoa.”
“Kinda. Remember that I know nothing about any sport. Not a single one. Except that baseball pants are God’s gift to women.”
He laughed, dropping his head back.
“I’m just saying,” I fought my own laughter, “That it’s crazy. My sister said you were a star forward, but I don’t know what that is.”
“Uhh…”
“Wait, do you know what that is?” I teased.
He reached over and nudged me. “I’m trying to explain it in a way you’ll understand.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He winked. “I’m an attacking player. So, it’s my job to score, pretty much.”
“Oh. How the hell was that hard to explain?”
“You think baseball pants are God’s gift to women. First, that’s me. And second, they have to wear cups, so that impedes access.”
“I’m gonna skip over the bit where you think you’re God’s gift to women and agree with you on the cup thing,” I said. “So, this might sound stupid, but have you won anything?”
“In hockey?”
“No, in football.”
He side-eyed me. “I wouldn’t take that sarcasm if you weren’t so cute.”
“Great. I went from being hot earlier to now being lumped in with newborn kittens and bunny rabbits.”
He laughed again, and goosebumps dotted my arms. “Yes, I’ve won things. How can you live in Orlando and know nothing about any kind of sport?”
“The same way city people live in the country and know nothing about cleaning out chickens,” I retorted. “I don’t care about it much, so I don’t know anything about it.”
“Wow. So, you’re dating a hockey player and you don’t care what he does.”
