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As if I would tell him I don’t believe there’s any part of him that’s saggy. I lift the bag of food in the air between us. “Our food is going to get cold.”
He quirks a brow, his eyes so focused on me I can’t help but fidget beneath the weight of them. “And we can’t have that,” he teases. Turning to Bernard, he tips his chin. “Thank you. Have a good rest of your day, okay?”
“You as well. See you both,” he replies and waves at both of us before drifting behind the counter and getting back to work.
I’m not nearly as surprised this time when Adam places a hand on my back and uses it to lead me around the cluttered sub shop again. Still, it’s my first instinct to tell him I’m perfectly capable of getting myself out of here in one piece. I can’t get myself to snap at him, though, and that frustrates me more than looking as if I can’t take care of myself.
The bell above the door rings again when we step outside, and I take a step away from Adam, forcing his hand to leave my back. Only then can I breathe easy again.
The beating summer sun has only gotten hotter in the time it took to get lunch, and I suddenly hate our work uniform and the way it produces excess heat. Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as my sneakers slap the sidewalk.
“It’s a lot hotter than I was expecting,” Adam says a second later, looking toward the sky. He places his hand over his squinted eyes and groans. The sleeve of his shirt stretches around his biceps, and I nearly let out a sound of my own.
I swallow instead. “We’re dressed for the rink. I don’t think that helps.”
“No, it probably doesn’t,” he agrees, dropping his arm and pulling his car keys from his pocket. “Speaking of rinks. There’s a Vancouver Warriors playoff game tomorrow night, and because WIT has a box at Rogers, myself and a few of the staff are going. There’s a spot for you if you want to join us.”
The toe of my sneaker catches on a crack in the sidewalk, and I stumble. I spin to gape at him. “You go to enough games you can justify the cost of a box?”
I’ve been lucky enough to sit in a box for a couple of games while I played for my previous team in Alberta, and it’s an entire luxury experience in and of itself.
He looks at me incredulously.
“Right. Stupid question,” I mutter. Why wouldn’t the biggest hockey training facility in the country have a permanent seat in the place most professional players will stumble into sometime during the hockey season? It’s the perfect marketing strategy.
“I’m best friends with two of their best players,” Adam says a moment later.
My brows furrow at the unexpected information. “Two?”
We enter the parking lot, and Adam unlocks his car. The headlights flash as he says, “I played college hockey with both Oakley Hutton and Tyler Bateman. We’re like family.”
I stop in front of Adam’s car. “Holy shit. Are you kidding? Tyler Bateman won the Norris Trophy last season.” He’s one of the best defensemen in the league right now, and he wasn’t even drafted.
Adam walks past me on his way to the passenger side, our arms brushing. His eyes crinkle in the corner when he smiles and pulls my door open for me.
“Damn right he did. And I’m offering you the chance to see him play game five of the second round of the playoffs from one of the most comfortable seats in the arena.” His eyes shine with mischief.
I know he’s trying to manipulate me into agreeing, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t working. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched a game, let alone one in person, but it’s long overdue. Leo has reminded me of that hundreds of times since I moved back home.
Maybe this will be the push I need to get over my remaining hurdles. Or maybe it will only make them worse. Either way, I won’t know unless I try.
I catch his hopeful eyes and nod. “What time should I be ready?”
11
ADAM
“You sure Scarlett actually wanted to come and didn’t just say yes because you’re her boss?” Banks asks from the passenger seat of my SUV.
He’s smacking a piece of nicotine gum in his mouth even though he knows that’s one of my pet peeves. I’ve wanted to reach over and take it away more than once since I picked him up, and if it weren’t for how hard I know he’s been working to quit smoking, I would have already.
The guy is only four years younger than me, but some days, I swear he behaves worse than Cooper.
“She seemed like she wanted to come when I talked to her this morning,” Brielle chimes in from behind me. She grabs the corner of both front seats and pulls herself between us. “I’m excited to spend some time with her outside of work. She’s not really much of a talker during work hours.”
I chuckle and, per the GPS instructions on my phone, turn down what appears to be Scarlett’s street. “I don’t think it has much to do with work, Brie.”
“We’ll see about that,” Brie retorts. She thrusts her arm forward, pointing at something up ahead. “There! It’s definitely the one with the bird bath by the porch.”
