“Hey, Layla,” the male caller says. “Hey, Brian. I have a beef to pick with the team.”
“I’m here for all this,” I say, leaning back and waiting.
“I just think they had an amazing time on the road. They won games by playing some smart hockey, but then they come home and play like amateurs.”
“Well,” I say, “I think they played a good game. It wasn’t their best game, but I’ve seen them play worse.”
“Oh, that is for sure. Miller looked like he had two left skates on,” he says, “and Manning and Ralph played like they had oil on their gloves.”
“I’m going to disagree with you on those,” I say, trying not to get irritated about him talking about Miller. “They had a couple of bad shifts, that is for sure, but by the second period, I think everyone was doing what needed to be done. They went into the third period trailing by two goals to come out and win in overtime. They hustled their asses. Thanks for calling. Who do we have next?” I ask the next caller, and we go on and on until I sign off at the end of the show.
“That was a good show,” Brian says, coming into the room when I take off my headphones and place them down. “Word on the street is your bank account is twenty-five K lighter.”
“It’s for charity,” I say, getting up. “It’s a tax write-off.” I get up and grab my stuff, listening to him laugh. “See you tomorrow.” I walk out of the door and into my office, grabbing my bag and phone.
“You’re running out already?” the receptionist asks. “Beat the Monday traffic.”
“You got it,” I say, getting into the elevator. I check my phone and see that I have four texts from Miller.
Miller: Your voice is that of an angel.
Miller: That guy was a dick.
Miller: Do you want to go out for ice cream tonight?
Miller: Unless you want to have dinner also.
I don’t answer him back because the elevator door opens, and I walk to my car. I make my way home, singing at the top of my lungs to the radio.
Slipping off my jeans and putting on my shorts and a tank top, I grab my hair and pin it at the top of my head. I click on the television while I go to the fridge to start preparing my dinner. I’m just turning off the stove when I hear the doorbell ring, so I put the pan down and grab a cloth to wipe my hands. The doorbell rings again as I head to the front door.
“I’m coming!” I shout and then open the door, coming face-to-face with the man I’ve been avoiding all day.
“Figured it would be hard to ignore me if I was right in front of you,” he says, coming into the house and kissing my cheek. “It smells great in here.”
Chapter 16
Miller
Standing at her front door, I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing as I wipe my clammy hands on my jeans and ring the bell. “Here goes nothing,” I tell myself, and I’m that much of a creep that I lean in and put my ear to the door. The sound of the television is playing. “Is that SportsCenter?” I try to listen for a second more. “God, this woman is all that,” I say and ring the bell again.
“I’m coming!” I hear her shout, and the smile fills my face. All day, I’ve been texting her, and it’s been radio silence. The sound of the door unlocking makes my heart speed up even more.
Now I have to wonder if this was actually a good idea. Fuck, maybe I should have thought things through before I just showed up here unannounced. Yet the minute I see her in her shorts and tank top, I know I made the right decision. “Figured it would be hard to ignore me if I was right in front of you.” I walk into the house, her shocked mouth hanging open. I want nothing more than to kiss her, but instead, I kiss her right on the cheek. “It smells great in here.”
I step into the foyer and wait for her to close the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I sent you more than five texts,” I say. “According to Google, I should give you until tomorrow to get back to me.” I shrug, thinking about the list that told me not to come over here, not to mention the texts, and, more importantly, give her space. “I’m not one to follow the rules.”
“You don’t say,” she says, shaking her head. “What if I was with someone?”
I look past her into the house. “Are you really with someone?” I ask, suddenly pissed that she would do that.
“No,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But still.”
“That isn’t funny,” I say. She walks away from me, and I can see the cheeks of her ass in those shorts. My cock suddenly wakes up, and I don’t move. She stops and looks over at me. “Just checking out the view,” I say, and she throws her head back and groans.
“Walk in front of me,” she says, and I smirk at her.
“Want to check out the goods?” I say, walking past her. “I can walk backward if you want to check out the main event.”
“What are you doing here?” she asks me, walking with me into the main room, and I follow her into the kitchen.
“I wanted to take you for ice cream,” I say, and she looks at me. “And I wanted to see you.”
“Did you eat?” she asks, and I shake my head. “I was too busy trying to text you and then reading bad information online about this.”
She laughs then, and I finally feel my stomach settle and don’t feel like an idiot for just showing up. “What did you make?”
“Crispy chicken, honey parsley carrots, and basmati rice,” she says, and I just look at her. “What? I like to cook.”
She places two plates on the counter and scoops the food onto them. Walking over, she sets them on the counter. “Do you want some water?”
“Yes, please.” I pull out the chair and sit down, waiting for her to come back. I see her plate is half the size of my portion. “Thank you,” I say when she sits next to me. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
She shakes her head. “I wasn’t going to be rude and eat in front of you without offering you some.” I grab the knife and pick up a carrot. “And I figured you wouldn’t leave anyway.”
“It’s like we’ve been together forever.” I wink at her. “These are the best carrots I’ve ever had.”
“You don’t have to pretend,” she says while eating a carrot from her plate. “So what else did Google say?”
“Well, I’m not supposed to discuss the text, which is stupid,” I tell her as I chew another piece. “One piece of advice was to wait five days,” I huff out. “Five days is equivalent to a year.” She laughs. “It also said not to ask you out again. But that shit was too late since we’re going for ice cream.”
“So you basically just made your own rule book.” She chews a piece of chicken.
I put my fork down. “I’ve never been in this position before.”
“The one where the girls don’t text you back?” she asks, not making eye contact as she scoots the food around her plate.
“I mean, yes and no,” I tell her. “I’ve never had to jump through hoops.”
She pushes away from the counter and takes her plate with her, tossing half of it in the garbage. “No one is asking you to jump through hoops.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I didn’t ask you to come over here.”
I look at her now, trying to read her. “Oh, trust me, I know.” I finish eating my plate. “I like this.”
“Me glaring at you while you eat the dinner I made for myself?” she says, and I clap my hands, laughing.
“This,” I say, pointing at her and then at me. “And for the record, I want to jump through hoops for you.” I see her shield come down just a bit. “Now, can I please take you for ice cream?”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” she fires back with attitude.
“Really?” I say. I fold my arms over my chest, knowing full well she’s lying. “So if I get up right now and look in your fridge, I won’t find ice cream?”
“Um,” she starts, and then I can see her thinking of an excuse. “It’s for when Ari comes over.”
I laugh. “At Ari’s birthday party, you ate a piece of cake.”
I point out, not mentioning how I watched her from across the room.
“Okay and?” She looks at me, not sure where I am going with all this information.
“Gorgeous”—I laugh—“it was ice cream cake.” I see her mouth hang open in surprise. “Now, can you please go get some pants on so I can take you to get some ice cream?”
“Okay, fine.” She pushes away from the counter. “But for the record, I found out I was lactose intolerant after that party.”
“They have sorbet,” I tell her as she walks away from me, and I watch her ass.
“Stop watching me, pervert!” she shouts, and I laugh. Getting up, I walk over to the sink, then rinse off our plates and load the dishwasher.
“Okay, fine, I’m ready,” she huffs, and I look over and see her wearing tight jeans with the same tank top, but she’s wrapped a sweater over her shoulders.
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her, and she shakes her head, making me laugh. “It’s going to be fucking amazing.”
I walk toward the door and hear her. “What is going to be amazing?”
Stopping at the door, I turn, and when she almost bumps into me, my hands grasp her hips to steady her. The only lights are coming from the kitchen. I bend my head and lean close to her. “When you finally let me kiss you,” I say in a whisper. “Now, let’s get going. I don’t want to keep you out too late and have you come up with another excuse for why I can’t see you tomorrow.” I turn and unlock the door, my hands and body itching to hold her hand in mine, but I have to go slow and not jump in feet first.
“I’m busy tomorrow,” she says before I open the car door for her.
“Obviously,” I say, and she laughs.
“I have no idea what to do with you,” she says right before she gets into the car.
“Good,” I tell her. “Because I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing with me either.” I close the door and head over to the driver’s seat.
After starting the car, I make my way over to the ice cream parlor I frequent. I’m surprised to see so many people there. I get out, and I’m not even five steps from the car before someone notices me. “Fuck,” I say to myself when she gets out of the car.
“You ready?” I ask, and she nods. We walk toward the door when someone calls my name, and I look over. The blonde is there with three friends. I smile and pick up my hand to wave.
I walk another couple of steps, and the same blonde comes over to us. “Can I have a picture?” she asks, and I smile.
“Sure you can,” I say and look over at Layla, who just watches from the side.
“I’m going to put this on my Instagram right away,” the blonde says, holding up the phone and snapping a selfie of us. “Do you mind if my friends join in?”
“The more, the merrier,” I say, and the three girls come over. “We are going to have to squeeze in to get the picture.” I look at the camera. “How lucky can one guy be?” I laugh with them, and she tells me she’ll tag me on Instagram.
“Thank you guys so much,” I say to them and then turn around to see that Layla has taken off. I look around and see that she is standing in line in the store.
“There you are,” I say, walking to stand next to her. “I was looking for you. You just took off.”
“Figured you had enough attention on you,” she says, and I don’t have a chance to say anything when she smiles at the girl behind the counter who looks at her and then at me and then comes back when it finally clicks who I am. Hockey is a big deal in Dallas, so it’s no surprise that people notice me. “Hi, can I get one scoop of strawberry in a cup, please,” she says, and the lady nods at her.
“Is that all?” she asks when she hands her the cup. Layla takes the cup and moves away toward the cashier.
“I’ll have the same,” I tell the girl, and she makes me the same cup. I walk to Layla and see that she’s already paid for the two ice creams.
“I was going to pay for it,” I tell her as she grabs a couple of napkins.
“It’s fine,” she says the two words, and that’s it.
“Do you want to eat in here or outside?” I ask, looking around and see two more girls notice who I am.
“Can we have a picture?” one of them asks. I smile and nod, posing for the picture. It takes Layla two seconds to walk back to the car, and that is where I find her waiting for me.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “It’s not usually like that.”
She laughs, and I realize she’s pissed off. “It’s always like that. You just never notice.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask her. “It’s my job.”
“It’s your job to play hockey,” she says. “I don’t think your job description includes flirting.”
I want to take a step back. “I wasn’t flirting,” I tell her and think about the whole conversation. “I was being nice.”
“I’ve been around other people who are in the same position as you, and there is a way to be nice without flirting.” She shrugs. “I mean, I don’t really care. That’s a you problem.”
“Oh my God,” I say, laughing. “You’re jealous.”
Chapter 17
Layla
I watch him, my blood to the point of boiling. He went through all this to get me to come out with him and then blatantly flirts with other girls in front of me. And then he thinks I’m jealous. He has lost his goddamn mind. “You’re jealous.” He laughs, and I stand here in front of him with my mouth hanging open.
“You have got to be kidding me?” I’m shocked, and the ice cream is now making my stomach curl. I walk over to the garbage can and toss the ice cream away. “I’m ready to go.”
“Why can’t you just admit it?” he says, looking at me. I look around to see if anyone is looking in our direction. A couple of people are watching us, making me look down at the ground and then back up. “There is nothing wrong with you being jealous.”
I don’t know if I trust myself not to kick him in the balls, so instead, I just grab my phone out of my pocket. “I’ll catch an Uber,” I tell him, trying to get my heart rate to go down and focus on the phone in front of me.
“I’ll drive you,” he says, walking past me and going to throw his ice cream in the garbage. I walk to the car and open my door and close it before he even turns around to walk back. He gets into the car, not saying a word until we are far away from the ice cream place.
“I was just joking with you,” he says, his voice low, and I look over.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, and I just look out the window.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says, and I look at him. “I was just …” he starts to say and then stops.
“You were just what?” I’m so curious to see if he gets it.
“I was just happy that you might have been jealous,” he says, and I take a deep breath. “That’s all.”
“For the record, I was not jealous. I was annoyed, but that’s a me problem, and it’s not a you problem, so don’t worry about it,” I tell him as he pulls into my driveway. “Thank you for the ice cream.” I get out of the car as fast as I can. “Good luck in Denver,” I say before I slam the car door.
I practically run into my house and lock the door. Only then do I let the hurt set in and kick myself for even making me feel this way. I ignore the ping of my phone, and I ignore the hurt in my chest by burying it just like I always have.
The next day, it lingers on my mind more than I care, pissing me off that I’m letting it even bother me. I know he’s texted me, but I leave the messages unread, which just makes my phone heavier and heavier.
I’m just getting home a couple of days later when the phone rings. I check the name before I even answer it. “Well, well, well,” I say with a smile. “If it isn’t my best friend.”
Candace laughs right away, and I can hear that I’m on speaker in her car. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my best friend, the big spender,” she says, and I groan.
“Am I never going to live that down?”
I unlock the door and walk into my house, tossing my keys on the table in the foyer. I kick off my ballerina flats, dumping my purse and the sweater at the same time at the door.
“Not anytime soon,” she says.
“Is that the only reason you called me?” I shake my head. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“It’s actually the reason I’m calling,” she says. “Ari and I were wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with us.” She mentions her little girl. “Make it a girls’ night.”
I sit on the couch with the phone to my ear and then press speaker. “That sounds like the best idea ever. Is she going to be wearing her Halloween costume?” I smile, thinking of the pictures I saw on Instagram this morning of Ariella dressed up as Minnie Mouse.
“I think I can arrange that since she had a tantrum this morning when I told her that she couldn’t wear it out to our mommy and me class.” I laugh until my stomach hurts. “It’s not funny. I swear I think she said bitch.”
“She did not,” I say. “What time were you thinking?”
“I’m pulling up to my house now,” she says, and I hear the car stop. “So now would be good.”
“Perfect. I’ll leave now.” I get up. “What should I bring?”
“Nothing,” she says, her voice tight. “And I mean nothing.”
“Listen, that tone might work with Ralph and Ari, but you are not the boss of me,” I say, and it makes her laugh. “I’ll be there shortly.”
I walk to my bedroom, changing out of my jeans for yoga pants and a sweater. Slipping on my slides, I grab my purse on the way out. I make a pit stop on the way, and when I pull up to her house, I’m shocked to see a for sale sign. I grab the two bags and the white box of cupcakes, and then snatch the balloon and walk to the front door.
“Knock, knock, knock,” I say when I walk into the house, and I hear Ariella squeal. “Where is my favorite girl in the whole world?” I sing-song, stopping in the middle of the family room as she runs to me, still a little unsteady. Candace follows, ready to catch her if she falls down. I squat down in time to catch her when she falls forward. “There she is.” I kiss her neck, and she laughs. “I brought you a balloon,” I say, and her blue eyes light up.
Only One Chance (Only One Series 2) Page 10
