We bowled two games, both of which I won, even though I wasn’t really trying that hard. I liked to win, but that wasn’t the important thing right now. We traded good-natured chirps throughout, laughing a lot too, taking our time, drinking our beers.
After bowling we meandered through the arcade and played some of the other games, from Down the Clown to pinball to shooting baskets, and yes, air hockey. I was so distracted watching her across the table from me, her smile beaming, her eyes alight as she focused intently on the puck, her arm darting out to hit it, that I played terrible and she beat me. Oh well.
I refused to play Guitar Hero or Dance Dance Revolution, even though she laughingly tried to convince me to try them, telling me she’d been brave enough to play air hockey with me. I wasn’t so much worried about making a fool of myself as I was about people recognizing her.
Then we found a table in a dim back corner and sat down to order food. There was a leather bench along the wall, and we sat side by side. I picked up a menu, and my pulse quickened as Jordyn leaned over to peer at it.
She smelled fantastic. I wanted to bury my face against her pale hair or her neck and breathe in the scent. I couldn’t tell you what it was—fresh and flowery. It smelled expensive. My skin tingled everywhere as her shoulder brushed my upper arm.
She bit her lip. “I should have a salad.”
“They have salads. Caesar. Kale and braised beets.”
“That actually sounds good.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic though. “What the hell. I feel like living tonight.”
I gave her a curious sideways glance. “You don’t usually live?”
She sighed. “I have to watch what I eat.”
“You’re so tiny. You don’t look like you do.”
“I just have to be careful. And healthy.”
“Well, so do I.”
She leaned back and tipped her head to one side. “I guess you do. Since you’re a pro athlete.”
“Yeah. The team feeds us healthy food which is excellent, because I’m a terrible cook. But every once in a while, I splurge on burgers and beer.”
“Well, then let’s both be bad. Burgers it is. And how about we share some poutine?”
“Hell yeah. And in a nod to healthy eating, let’s get the roasted brussels sprouts and cauliflower.”
“And another beer.”
“Absolutely.”
A server came by to take our orders, and the way she eyed both of us told me she probably recognized us. Or one of us at least.
When she came back with the beers, she set them down in front of us, then breathlessly said to me, “I’m a big fan of yours, Chase. Would you autograph this for me?” She held out a paper coaster from the bar.
“Sure.” I took the Sharpie she offered and signed the coaster. I smiled as I handed it back. “You go to many games?”
“As many as I can.” The server beamed. “I’m not a season ticket holder, but I’m a loyal Aces fan.”
“Glad to hear it.”
She quivered, her shoulders hunched up, then she nodded and walked away.
Jordyn looked at me with raised eyebrows. “She’s a fan.”
“Yep.” I picked up my beer.
“Does that happen to you a lot?”
“Eh. Often enough.” I slanted her a quizzical look. “I’m sure that happens to you way more than it happens to me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Apparently not here. She didn’t even notice me.”
I didn’t want to think she was so narcissistic that she wanted all the attention. That would be disappointing. “Does that bother you?”
Chapter 7
Jordyn
“Holy crap, no.” I shook my head. “I mean, I love all my fans, obviously. But it’s kind of nice to be sitting here like this.”
I glanced around the space. It was a lot busier now than it had been when we got here a few hours ago, but it was true that nobody was paying any attention to me. We’d managed to fly under the media radar somehow. Until the waitress recognized Chase.
I was having so much fun. I sucked at bowling, but we’d laughed a lot. The arcade games were fun, and I kind of rocked at air hockey. All without anyone bothering me or taking pictures. This was awesome.
Chase nodded and sipped his beer, his face relaxed, his smile boyish. “I’m having a good time.”
“Me too.” Our eyes met and sizzles simmered low in my belly. I picked up my beer and drank too.
“I have to admit I wasn’t sure how this was all gonna go over with you.” He grimaced. “You’re a big star, and I didn’t know if you’d be into a bunch of games.”
My chest went soft and warm. “I didn’t know what to expect, although since you told me to dress casual I wasn’t expecting dinner at Fratelli.” I named a super expensive Chicago restaurant with a star chef. “You couldn’t have picked anything better.”
Even though it was a date, and I sort of wanted him to like me, it didn’t feel awkward or phony. I felt like I could just be myself and relax and have fun, and I didn’t get many chances like that anymore.
“Good.”
We had another moment of heated eye contact. Those sizzles low inside me intensified, a flutter blooming between my legs.
He was as good-looking as I’d imagined. Actually better looking, since a lot of the pictures of him online were of him all sweaty, wearing his hockey uniform. In person, he cleaned up very nicely—just the right amount of beard stubble on his cheeks and jaw, his dark eyes warm, his full lips sensual and yet when he smiled, playful.
He’d commented on my size when we were standing on the sidewalk, and yeah, he was tall and broad through the shoulders. I’d remembered that Elite Sportswear ad and what was beneath his clothes, and felt myself get warm, hoping he had no way of knowing what I was thinking. A charcoal sweater with a gray and white checked shirt beneath it hugged his wide chest and shoulders perfectly, the sleeves pushed up on his forearms. His dark blue pants were just narrow enough to be stylish, his brown boots fashionable and expensive.
It was his smile that killed me, which was a weakness of mine. I admit a smoldering, broody guy is attractive, but if he doesn’t smile and joke around, we are not going to be a good match. A guy with a warm, attractive smile who could crack a joke would get to me. Every. Damn. Time.
And Chase got to me.
“So.” He set an elbow on the small table so he could lean on it as he angled his body toward me. “I learned last week that you grew up in Chicago.”
“Yep. Born and raised here till I was about sixteen. Then my mom and I moved to Los Angeles.”
“So you could be a child star.”
“Ha ha. Right. It took a while, but getting the part on Piper Reed was a big break for me.”
“Why’d you leave the show?”
I shrugged. “I was getting too old for it. And I really wanted a music career.”
“How old were you when it ended?”
“Twenty. I was playing a sixteen-year-old, but I didn’t want people to see me as a teenager forever. I wanted to be taken seriously. That took some time too.” I rolled my eyes and swiped a drop of condensation off my beer glass.
“I think you’re there now.”
“Thanks.” The admiration in his eyes made my stomach muscles clench.
“How’d you get to be a hockey fan?”
I told him about my dad loving hockey and taking me to games. “It sucked being apart from him when I moved to L.A. But he and my mom flew back and forth a lot.”
“That must have been hard for their marriage. And your whole family.”
“It was pretty hard. I’m an only child, so I didn’t have siblings that were impacted, but I can’t imagine going through what my mom and dad did…now I’m older I appreciate the sacrifices they made more.”
“I get that. My parents did a lot for me too, to play hockey.”
“I’m sure.” I leaned forward. “And do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Just one sister. She’s two years younger than me. She absolutely refused to do anything involving sports.”
I smiled. “What does she do now?”
“She’s an accountant in Toronto.”
“Cool. You’re Canadian.”
“Yeah.”
“Your parents still live there?”