Caged (Gold Hockey #11) - Elise Faber Page 0,24

up, until it finally engulfed her from shoulders to hips, squeezing tight on her lungs, her stomach. Nausea coursed through her, burned the back of her throat.

“For the record, I think you’re doing just fine with people,” he said.

Dani froze, then her gaze flew up to his. Laughter bubbled up inside her, escaping out through her nose in a semi-painful snort. She sank down further, her butt hitting the concrete of the patio, her head resting back against the house. “You’re delusional if you could possibly think that I’m good with people.”

“Just because you don’t interact in the same way as others doesn’t mean you’re not good.”

It took her a minute to puzzle that out.

Then her brows drew together, her head shook. “You really are delusional.”

One half of his mouth quirked up, but his tone was easygoing as he sank down opposite her, matching her position on the concrete. Its coolness was seeping through the fabric of her dress, making her shiver, or maybe that was just because he rested his hand on her ankle.

“Okay?” he whispered.

Throat going dry, she thought about the contact, knew that she should say she wasn’t okay with it, just out of principle. But . . . the truth was that his large, warm hand resting on the bare skin of her ankle felt nice.

More tendrils slipping in through the gaps in her net, winding their way around her insides, filling her with warm, fluffy cotton candy straight out of the machine. Sticky fingers, the puffed sugar melting rapidly on her tongue, its sweetness bleeding over her taste buds, sinking down into her stomach, and all of those dopamine receptors in her brain blazing happily to life.

“Dani?”

Still wrapped in that warm, fluffy dopamine feeling, she found herself nodding.

The other half of his mouth curved, joining the first. Then he stretched out, leaving his hand where it was, even as his legs bracketed hers.

Bare skin brushing hers, the rough velvet of hair-covered male legs making her shiver in the absolute best way.

“Cold?” he asked, eyes soft and curious.

Since she wasn’t about to admit that she was ridiculously attracted to those legs, to the dark hair covering skin that was tanner than she’d expect for a man who spent the vast majority of his time indoors, she just simply said, “No.” Then hurried to ask, “Do you spend a lot of time outdoors?”

His brows lifted, perfectly framing gray eyes that were such an interesting mix of the shade—steel-colored with faint streaks of blue, a charcoal outline around his pupil. He didn’t comment on her staring, on her random question, just nodded and smiled again. “Yes, after freezing my ass off in an ice rink for most of the year, I really like soaking up the California sunshine.” A beat. “Do you?”

Her teeth found her bottom lip, nibbling, a stupid fucking nervous habit that she hated, one she immediately pulled back on, releasing it as she shook her head. “You saw the pile of books I picked up from the library, what do you think?”

“I think,” he said, his fingers flexing slightly on her ankle, sending heat curling through her, though he didn’t move any closer, “that you are the type of woman who can do whatever you want, whether that’s kicking ass behind the computer, hiking to the top of Mt. Shasta, sailing around the Bay, or just spending the night in the bath with a book and bottle of wine.” He smiled. “And that slice of cold pizza.”

She laughed, but it sounded off because shock had sliced its way through her at the words, at what this man thought she could do, what she might like to do. Was there ever a person, even her awesome family, who’d told her she could do everything? No. She was used to people putting her in a box, to hearing, “you’re a nerd because you like to build computers and game the night away, so there’s no way you’d want to scale a mountain or sail around a body of water.” Maybe the bath, wine, and reading would fit into their preconceived notions, but the rest of it?

No.

Not so much.

And that wasn’t even touching on the numerous microaggressions—and oftentimes the aggressions that weren’t micro-sized—the real-life discrimination and hate that came from being a woman of color in this world.

Even if she put that aside and focused on her nerdy qualities, on the things she’d been bullied for, Dani had always figured the rest of the world saw her as