Page 8 of Date With Skates

“Are you sleeping?” I say when I come upon him.

His eyes slowly peel open. He blinks a few times then flicks his gaze toward me. Bright green, like the leaves during summer. Such a contrast to his dark brown hair.

“No,” he says, but there’s nothing about that I believe.

“You’re lying,” I say with a grin. “Why are you sleeping on a bench?”

“Maybe they ran out of rooms.”

“For Connor McVoy? I think not.”

A smirk crosses his lips. Lips that I could bite. Lips that I would love to suck on.

“You know who I am.”

“Unfortunately,” I say, though there’s nothing unfortunate about it. I feel like I’ve struck gold.

“You seemed pretty excited about it two seconds ago.”

“I was so impressed you remembered your own name after the deep nap you were taking.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Right, and I’m here on official Olympic business,” I say, shifting on my feet because when you’re standing still, the chill really sets in.

“Aren’t you?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Technically, I guess.”

“What do you do? Technically?”

“Very important things.”

“Like disturbing sleeping hockey players?”

“Ah hah! So you admit you were sleeping.”

He glares for a moment, then his lips turn up into a smile.

“Fuck.”

I grin as I take a seat beside him on the bench.

“That was way too easy.”

I glance over at him, feeling the warmth of his body seep over to me. I want to scoot closer, and maybe if he wasn’t a famous hockey player, I would. Though, looking around, I don’t see any security. Not that he needs it. He could take care of himself.

I sigh, knowing I’m going to do it anyway. So, I do.

I scoot closer, until we’re almost touching.

He narrows his eyes, seeming confused but not offended or concerned.

“You looked comfortable by the way. Not at all disturbed by the cold weather.”

“I was,” he grunts. “Comfortable, I mean.”

“Just one bedtime story away from snoring, I think.”