Page 69 of The One Timer

“Don’t do it just for me.”

“I need to do it.” Whether we’re together or not. The unspoken sentence stabs my heart and my hormone riddled dick hates the idea

I don’t miss her expression. As always, her face speaks volumes, her eyes like liquid gold, already melting whatever resolve I had to distance myself.

Am I fucked or what?

So this is where that expression comes from—women--you can’t live with them, but you’re fucked without them.

“I’m deeply touched that you were willing to come here to please me. My respect for you just exploded into the stratosphere.” She grins.

“Don’t go crazy⁠—”

“Seriously. I have … feelings for you, Chase.”

Shit. I nod. I’m uncomfortable with talk of feelings. Feelings are the last thing I want to dredge up, so I joke. “Good. It’s about time you realize I’m more than a mere hockey god.”

She mock rolls her eyes and smiles, though the smile looks hesitant.

“Let’s do this,” I say.

I soldiers through, ignoring the ambulance bay outside the window as best I can. Em closes the blind as soon as she sees me glance uneasily that way. I end up enjoying the hockey talk and good-natured bantering with the older men and ladies. And why not? They’re far more interesting than young bucks like me and my friends with stories to tell. We stay until every t-shirt and poster is signed and every drop of food is gone—no exaggeration.

It was smart that the guys came in a separate car because I end up driving Em back to her house. But only because I can’t convince her to stay with me and Gran’s.

"I guess I'm not surprised you were so good with the older set. You've always been so wonderful with your grandma."

"Maybe I have an old soul. No, wait, that's you." He winks, "I'm definitely attracted to old souls. Especially when they're wrapped up in such jaw-droppingly gorgeous packages."

She looks out the window as we drive down Cambridge Street past the Mass General.

“Last chance to change your mind about staying over,” I say. I know it’s a long shot, but my dick is ever hopeful.

“We both need a good night’s sleep. Besides you should get back to Portsmouth tonight. I know you must have been late for hockey⁠—”

“You let me worry about that,” I say even though she’s right because I’m a dick head.

Em looks at me like she knows, but she doesn’t call me on it. She just gives me one of those sassy smiles. And for whatever reason it makes my chest clench, makes me want to drive past her house, past Louisburg Square and straight to anywhere I can be alone with her in our own world and the doors locked.

Fuck. The fact that that fantasy is so appealing is so not good.

“You’re on a mission to win the Stanley Cup, right?” she says, hitting the mark like she’s just kicked me in the metaphorical balls.

“Right. No problem.” I’m having a hard time convincing my dick, but it’s true. “Home to Aunt Bea’s it is.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

EMERY

He pulls up to the crumbling curb in front of my house. The front porch light is on and I sigh.

“I have an idea, how about if you come to my away game tomorrow? It’s a Friday. That way we can spend the night together by ourselves.”

“And your entire team.” I smirk, but he gives me that wolfish I want to eat you for desert look and I need to stop him before I fall into the Red Riding Hood role without so much as a whimper. “I can’t, Chase. You know I need to study and your grandmother hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

“I know. I made a doctor appointment for her to have her blood pressure meds checked. It’s in a couple of days.

“I’m glad. I’ll go with her.”