Penalty Play - Lynda Aicher Page 0,19

unfinished lunch then dug out her phone to look up the school’s practice room schedule.

He flagged down the waiter and requested the bill. I guess that’s a yes.

She hesitated. “Unless you’d rather leave. That’s cool too.” Not really, but she wouldn’t force him either.

“No. It’s good.” His smile was real when it slowly edged up his face, the Cupid’s bow flattening out until only a small dip remained. Maybe it was the softness of them, compared to the rugged hardness of the rest of him, that intrigued her.

“Okay.” Her smile flowed out from the warmth growing within her. The multiple sides of this man continued to fascinate her. And that smile—that real one that lit up his eyes and lightened everything about him—was one she wanted to see again.

He took care of the bill while she scanned the app for an open room. There should be one free at this time of the day. Her silent plea was thankfully answered. She claimed the room before tucking her phone in her hoodie pocket.

“Do you mind walking over to the school?” The rain had eased to a light sprinkle and the walk wasn’t too far.

He glanced out the big front window. “My car’s close.”

“Parking’s expensive near the school unless you have a student pass.”

He arched a brow, and she heard what she’d just said. Right. Money probably wasn’t his concern.

“Did you bring a jacket?”

“I’m good.” He slid out of the booth, her coat in his hand. “We can walk.”

It was on her tongue to argue, but why? His black sweater looked warm enough, and it was a crap-shoot if they’d find a parking spot any closer without a student sticker. He held up her jacket, and she slid into it. Manners. He had them in spades. Something a lot of the men she met lacked. Especially at school, where most of the guys were years younger than her and more boys than men.

“Let me.” He motioned to her backpack, and she was too impressed to say no.

Did chivalry still exist in modern men? Her brothers still tried to baby her, but they knew her history. Their offers to carry things always felt like coddling and drove her nuts. But Henrik had no idea about her past. He was simply being nice, and she really liked it.

“So, Henrik,” she said once they’d hit the sidewalk, her backpack slung over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be busy with hockey? Doesn’t the season start soon?” Her brothers still circled opening day on the family calendar like it was a national holiday. To her, it’d always signaled the end of her rights on the family’s sole TV. Hockey dominated the viewing schedule from October to May. Thankfully she’d had her music to entertain her during those months.

“Preseason started last week.” He tucked a hand in his jean pockets, the other gripping the strap of her backpack. He didn’t slouch though. No, he carried his height with pride. “The season opens next week.”

“And you’ve played here for how long?”

“Six years.”

“Can I ask how old you are?” She hadn’t bothered to check when she’d searched on him the other day. Despite his flexing tentativeness, he had a maturity she guessed put him closer to thirty than twenty.

“Twenty-nine.” He eyed her. “And you?” There was a slight hesitancy in his voice.

She chuckled, dodging around a few pedestrians. Was he afraid she’d get mad? “Twenty-five. I started college a year late and then went part-time for a few years.” The additional explanation was tacked on automatically. Most people were usually nosy enough to ask why she was still in school, and it was just easier to get it out there.

“Are you from around here then?” He tugged his hand out of his pocket to circle her shoulders as he navigated her through a busy crosswalk. Not overbearing, but courteous.

A warmth spread from her chest down to her abdomen before her stomach did that crazy flip thing again. A part of her wanted to curl up to his side and absorb his strength, something she hadn’t let herself want from a guy since she’d kicked her last round of cancer.

She made a dodge around a slow-moving couple, deftly shifting away from his touch. “Born and raised,” she answered when she was at his side again, picking up their conversation. “What about you?”

Tiny water droplets stuck to the ends of his thick hair. Kind of long on top, it swept away from his face in a side part that swooped back to curl

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