That was nice.
I mean, really fucking nice, and I had no regrets going to sleep by myself. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have turned her down had she made even the slightest gesture she was interested in something between the sheets with me, but I also wasn’t disappointed either. I’ve figured out enough that Lexi is a different type of woman, and she has piqued my interest in a way no other has before. I’m going to ride this out and see what happens, whereas normally I’d ditch a girl if she didn’t put out for me right away. I know that makes me a bit of an ass, but I’m not apologetic about it either. If a woman gladly gives it up to me that quick, I’m going to take it, and I’m not going to look backward either.
I get busy cracking eggs into a bowl, intent on making a few extra than the normal six I’d eat on game morning. There was a text sent out at 8 A.M. stating that the game scheduled for tonight was going forth as planned as the other team had arrived in town safely before the storm and that the arena had power. I expect tonight’s attendance will be low, as there will be plenty of people who won’t risk some of the scattered ice that will still be on the roads after the DOT trucks do their thing today, but for those adventurous ticket holders, the game will go on.
Lexi’s feet go from the carpeted stairs to the hardwood floors of my living room, her steps getting louder as she comes toward the kitchen, I’m sure led by the smell of the bacon sizzling on the stove.
When she appears in the kitchen, my eyes immediately pin on her and I wonder how someone can look that fucking amazing rolling right out of bed. She’s got on pair of fleece pajamas done in light purple and little kittens all over them. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, her hair is pulled up on top of her head in some kind of messy concoction, and she yawns as she looks at me.
“Good morning,” she says through the yawn.
“Sleep good?” I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall behind her. Just after nine, so I figure she had close to six hours of sleep at least.
“So good,” she says, her normally husky voice even more so having just woken up. “Thanks again for giving me a warm place to crash.”
“My pleasure,” I say as I crack one more egg into the bowl and push the empty carton filled with the shells to the side. “Hungry? I’m making eggs and bacon.”
“Yeah, that would be good,” she says as she walks to a stool at the island where I’m working and sits directly across from me. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee, though.”
I give her a sheepish smile. “Sorry…I don’t even own a coffeepot. Not being a coffee drinker and all.”
Lexi lets out a raspy laugh and teases me. “You mean you’ve never dated a single woman who drank coffee? Or for that matter, never had friends or family visit you who drink coffee?”
I give a shrug as I grab a fork to whisk the eggs. “I don’t have any friends or family who visit. But there’s orange juice in the fridge and you can poor me a glass too.”
“Now that’s just sad and needs further analysis.” She grins back at me and hops off the stool.
“Glasses are in that cupboard,” I say with a nod of my head that way as I beat the eggs.
Lexi doesn’t say anything as she grabs two glasses and the orange juice from the fridge, bringing it all to the island. I set the fork down in the eggs and nab another pan from the cupboard beside the stove, placing it on the burner next to the bacon to get it going.
“So I’m the first woman who’s stayed here?” she asks casually as she pours juice.
“Yup.” I coat the pan with cooking spray and turn on the burner. “I’m what you would consider a very casual dater, and frankly…never been with a woman long enough to trust her with my home address, you know what I mean?”
“Not really,” she says. “You hardly know anything about me.”
“I know enough,” I tell her firmly, and I don’t elaborate, because I already told her all about my newfound penchant for girls who play ukuleles in coffeehouses.
“That’s sweet,” she says before taking a long slug of her orange juice. “But why no friends or family visiting?”
I glance at her as I turn from the oven to the island, grab the bowl of eggs, then turn back to the heated pan. “My parents are in Prague. They’re both really busy and don’t travel much outside of the Czech Republic.”
“Not even to visit their son?” she says.
And it doesn’t bother me that she’s asking me these things, but I also don’t want to get into a deep discussion about my lack of a traditionally cozy and loving family. So I merely tell her, “I’m just not that close with them. Honestly, not that close to anyone really. Playing hockey is such a transient existence. I’ve been living away from home since I was a teenager, and I’ve been traded among teams a few times. It’s hard to develop relationships when you’re constantly on the move.”