“Yes. I was singing pretty much from the time I could talk. I took voice lessons, piano lessons, did musical theater. It kind of feels like I’ve been working at it forever and I’m just starting to get somewhere.”
“I’d say you’re doing better than that.” He slanted me a smile. “So you want to be a superstar?”
I thought about that. Yes, I was ambitious, but fame wasn’t the goal. Even money wasn’t the goal. I was comfortably well-off from my TV show days, and my album had done well. “I just want to make music. And it’s nice when people like my music.”
He tilted his head. “Yeah. I just want to play hockey. Except…never mind. People love your music.”
Except…what? “Thanks.”
“So you’re not into fame.”
I smiled. “Not gonna lie, I like attention. Sometimes. And having lots of people love you feels pretty good. But it’s a weird thing.”
“How so?”
“Those people don’t really love me. They don’t really even know me. And I think it can mess with your mind. You can start believing the hype and thinking they really do love you, and you’re better than everyone else. Plus it’s fickle. As long as you’re doing well, everyone loves you, but do one thing to mess up and you’re out. Everyone is replaceable.”
I thought he winced at that.
“I’ve seen it happen,” he said in a low voice. “Guys who do think they’re all that and a candy bar. It goes to their heads, and they get all cocky and entitled.”
“Right? I think it’s hard for that to not happen. And you never know who your real friends are. I once had a friend who told a trashy gossip blogger that I still sleep with the stuffed rabbit I’ve had since I was a baby.”
He grinned. “Do you?”
“No! I have the rabbit. I don’t sleep with her anymore.”
“Her?”
“Her name is Cinnabunny.”
His grin widened. “This is so shocking.”
“It was mortifying!” Okay, I knew it wasn’t that big a deal, but it had been embarrassing. And annoying. “And then there was the singer who was all ‘we’re going to be best friends!’ and wanted to do stuff together all the time. Turned out she just wanted the paparazzi to take lots of pictures of us together so she’d be seen. And she wanted me to introduce her to my agent.”
“Ugh.”
“It makes it hard to trust people, which makes it hard to have real relationships.”
“Mmm.”
“You find that too?”
“Eh, not exactly. I don’t think I have the same kind of fame as you do.”
“Says the guy who was just mobbed by hockey fans.”
He nudged me gently with his shoulder. “They were there to see you too, babe. But you’re right, there are lots of women who say they love hockey but don’t really know anything about it. But I’m not really looking for a relationship anyway. I’m too selfish.”
I blinked. “Oh. Why do you say that?”
“I like being single. I like being able to go on road trips and not worry about all the responsibilities I’ve left behind, or missing someone. I like just being able to focus on hockey and not worry about anything or anyone else.”
“Well.” I thought about that. “That does sound kind of selfish.”
His head swiveled to look at me, as if he hadn’t expected me to agree with him.
I met his eyes and smiled. “But at least you own it.”
He laughed. For some reason, I didn’t really think he was a selfish person.
The skyscrapers twinkled all around us, the snow magnifying their sparkle. Lights along the walkway glowed golden. We weren’t the only people walking there, others taking advantage of a beautiful snowy Saturday evening. Restaurants and bars were lit up and busy.
We climbed the steps up to street level. Here, trees all had tiny white lights strung through their branches, twinkling in the snowy air.
“Okay to keep walking?” Chase asked. “Or we could stop for a drink somewhere.”
“Let’s keep going. We could have a drink after.”
“Perfect. I know just where we can go.”
I loved how he had planned everything, yet was still polite enough to ask my preferences. I hated it when guys I went out with left it up to me where we went or what we did. I know they were trying to be considerate, but it felt…spineless. Chase was in charge of this date, and I appreciated that. Luckily I liked everything he’d planned, which made me consider…was it coincidence that we enjoyed similar things? Or had he actually tried to plan things I’d like? Except how could he, when we really didn’t even know each other?
We crossed DuSable Bridge, busy with traffic both vehicular and pedestrian. Below, the Chicago River shimmered with the reflections of the city lights. My eyes actually stung a bit at the beauty of it. I’d been living away from this city for eight years and I missed it.
We strolled up Michigan to Millennial Park. The skating rink was lit up, and skaters glided over the ice. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to go skating,” I teased him.
He grinned. “Some of the guys told me that was a bad date idea.” He paused. “Do you know how to skate?”
“I do, but I’m not very good.”
“Well, maybe some time we’ll go skating.”
A weird heaviness settled in my chest thinking about that. As if we were ever going to see each other again. I lived in L.A., mostly, and he lived here. This was a onetime thing, a crazy Twitter bet.
Also he’d warned me. He wasn’t into relationships. I got that message loud and clear. I’d disregarded that warning before—thinking guys said that because they hadn’t met the right woman. But it turns out when a man tells you he’s not into relationships—believe him.
We stood in front of the huge illuminated Christmas tree, other trees in the park all lit up with golden lights as well. “It’s beautiful. Just beautiful. Thank you so much for bringing me here.”
He turned to me. His face was ruddy from the chilly air. He was so attractive. I wanted to go up on my toes and kiss that indentation in his square chin. Run my fingers over his thick eyebrows and down his imperfect nose. Even with the navy knit cap tugged down over his ears, he was gorgeous.
“You’re very welcome.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “It really is beautiful.”
Our eyes met and held, that tug of attraction drawing me to him, heat building between us despite the chilly air, quivery sensations rippling through me.
Chapter 8
Chase
Goddamn, she was gorgeous.
It almost felt unreal, me standing with this woman I’d crushed on from afar, now here with me in real life, looking so amazingly lovely and not only that, we were having tons of fun.
Like all those times we’d connected on Twitter, she’d made me feel good. Because lately I hadn’t been feeling so good about myself. I was down on myself for how I’d been playing, and I knew everyone else was too—my parents, the coaches, my teammates. The fans.
But she thought I was a good hockey player. She looked at me with interest and admiration. She even teased me. There was something heady about how she made me feel. It was kind of crazy.
We eyed each other, music from the skating rink and people laughing and calling out to each other filling the air along with the drifting snowflakes. Snow had settled on the top of her black fedora and her cheeks were pink. I really, really wanted to kiss her, and my gaze dropped to her mouth, soft and rosy. Her lips parted. The big scarf wrapped around her rose and fell with her quick breaths.
I didn’t know if there was someone with a camera pointed at us, so just in case, I merely bent my head and brushed my mouth over hers. Then I drew back and said, “You look cold. Let’s go get that drink.”
Her eyelids were lowered. She did a slow blink, then nodded. “Okay.”
I led the way out of the park, and we walked two short blocks to the blues bar I’d made note of for this part of our date. It was packed with people but I’d called ahead and, with some bills discreetly handed over to the hostess, we were soon sitting at a small table for two in a dark corner of the bar. A quartet on the low stage played a version of “Sweet Home Chicago.”