“Fine.” She dug her sketchbook out of her bag and flipped to a page, then handed it to him.
He looked at them, stunned by her talent as he reviewed the pages she’d drawn of him and some of the other players. She’d caught everything about the game and the players. The speed, the intensity in their expressions. He could feel the action and the emotion on these pages. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Wow, Carolina. These are really good. I had no idea you had talent like this.”
He saw the blush creep across her cheeks as he handed the sketchbook back to her.
“I had to do them fast. They’re just messy drawings.”
“No, they’re . . . amazing. You captured the fast pace and passion of hockey like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“What I really wanted to do was show how you all move.”
“I’d say you did that perfectly.”
Their waiter showed up. Carolina deferred, so Drew ordered a bottle of wine for them.
“What’s your intent in doing the drawings? Obviously you’re not looking to design hockey uniforms.”
She let out a short laugh. “Uh, no. But I am thinking about sports when I design for men. How to take movement into consideration. And comfort. Men don’t like to feel restricted or weighed down in clothing. You want to feel comfortable, even in”—she looked around and leaned forward—“underwear.”
“So you’re going to create a line of men’s underwear, too?”
“Yes.” Her lips tipped upward at the corners. “How do you feel about modeling underwear?”
He shrugged. “I feel fine about it, but how do you know I’ve got the goods to do it? Maybe you want to use some dude who does that for a living.”
“I suppose you have a point. I’d have to . . . see your body again.”
He smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look. You’re going to have to be a professional about this if we’re going to work together.”
“Hey, I can get naked and not think about having sex with you. Maybe.”
“Can you?”
“I’m not twelve, babe.”
“Or twenty-two, drunk, and unable to remember my name?”
He leveled a not-quite-happy look at her. “I knew exactly who I was sleeping with that night.”
“Maybe you did. It was the day after you forgot who I was.”
“Yeah, I screwed up big-time that night, and the day after. I could give you a lifetime of I’m sorry’s, but that can’t change what happened or the fact I treated you like shit afterward. But I’ll still say it, as many times as you need to hear it—I’m sorry, Carolina.”
FOUR
THEIR WAITER BROUGHT THE WINE, AND TOOK THEIR food order, so Carolina didn’t have time to respond to Drew’s apology. Probably a good thing, since she had no idea what to say to him.
She’d waited years for that apology, had played over and over in her head what she’d say to him if he ever said he was sorry.
She’d planned to throw his apology back in his face. She’d tell him she’d cried over and over again for months after he walked out on her and never called her. She’d felt worthless and used and in love with someone who obviously felt nothing for her.
But that was the twenty-year-old, brokenhearted Carolina who’d had all those feelings.
Drew had never once made any promises to her that night, and all her feelings had been just that—her feelings—the ones of a very young girl who’d wrapped all her hopes and dreams in fantasy, none of which had been his fault. She’d known he was leaving campus, that he had a promising career ahead of him with a hockey team. Instead, she’d manufactured some love story in her head that had nothing to do with reality.
Which, again, hadn’t been his fault at all. It had taken her a long time to come to grips with that. But she’d moved on, finished college, and had become an adult. She’d had other relationships and had shoved Drew into a drawer of the past.
Sometimes love taught very painful lessons, but she’d long ago decided she wasn’t equipped for that whole falling in love thing.
“Apology accepted. I’m sorry I brought it up—again.”
He took her hand. “You’re entitled to bring it up as many times as you want to. I was a jerk that night. And a lot before that. I didn’t notice you when I should have.”
He wasn’t making this any easier. “You weren’t supposed to do anything other than be who you were. I was the one who threw myself at you.”
He smiled at her. “You did. Thanks for that. It was good for my ego.”
“As if your ego needed any more stroking. You had girls lining up to crawl into bed with you all through college. For as long as I can remember, you were the hot stud every girl wanted to get with. And you were oblivious to most of them, or you strung them along, choosing the best ones and discarding the less attractive ones.”
“Ouch. Was I really that bad?”
“Yes. You were really that bad. As far as I know, you might still be.”