breath and swallowed down the sharp words that bubbled in her throat. “I have a perfectly good one at home. And access to more at school. I don’t need another one.”
He cocked his head, frown deepening. “I researched them too. This one is the best.” He pushed the box forward to highlight his insistence.
She stared at him, anger warring with her growing confusion. “Is this...payment?”
“What?” He jerked back, eyes wide. “No.”
Her legs were a bit unsteady when she moved toward him, each step hesitant.
Innocence. It was there now. Confusion along with retreat as he ducked his head, hand scrubbing through his hair. She considered herself a fairly good reader of men, given her experience growing up with four of them. And this right here—the gift—was a gesture of kindness.
Unless he was playing her.
“Then why?” She stopped a few feet away from him, still wary.
“I thought you’d like it.” Exasperation flew from the words, his hand dropping to prop on his hip. “You can exchange it if you want a different one.”
The constriction on her chest loosened, letting a full breath in. Her head was shaking again though. “I can’t accept this.”
“Why?” And his frown was back.
She stepped up to him, cupped his cheek. Everything softened at her touch. His eyes, shoulders, expression. Damn him. He was going to hook her yet.
“Because it’s too much. I barely know you.” She smoothed her hand back, palm scratching over his stubble to hold his nape. “I don’t want you to buy me things.”
His sigh was heavy with the confusion that lifted his brows. “Then what do you want?”
Just you.
She choked back her instant answer, pulse racing. It was true though. “You.” His eyes went wide, hope blooming bright. “You don’t have to buy me,” she rushed on. “I like you for you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and that’s enough.”
“You like me?”
Innocence and disbelief. How could this be the same man who barreled down the ice and crashed into men for a living?
“Yes.” She placed a quick, hard kiss to his lips and stepped back, grin honest and full. “Trust that. And kick some ass tonight.”
She squeezed his arm, waited for him to nod then headed for the front door.
“We leave tomorrow for a three-game road trip.” He’d set the box against the back of the couch and was leaning around her to open the closet when she reached it. How did such a big man move so silently?
She stepped aside and let him help her into her coat. He gripped her shoulders when she turned to face him. His study of her was brief but intense. “I’ll call.”
One more time? No wouldn’t pass her lips no matter how hard she tried to shove it out. “Okay.” Whatever that led to, she’d deal with. This man was working his way into her life, and she really didn’t want to stop him.
Her stomach twisted, a burn firing below her rib cage in a blast of mocking pain. December seemed really far away. There was so much that could happen before then, and chances were good that whatever this was would be long done before Thanksgiving rolled around.
Despite all the reasons and logic she had for ending this now, she wanted to take what he offered and selfishly enjoy it while she still had the chance.
Chapter Thirteen
“Dude.” Justin Feeney slammed into Henrik, knocking him sideways a couple of steps. “We’re heading downstairs in ten. Bunnies are in the bar.”
Henrik rammed Feeney back and continued down the hotel hallway without answering. Looking for a quick fuck was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Oh, come on,” Feeney complained. “Don’t tell me another girl has your nuts in a vise again.”
That didn’t even deserve a reaction. Henrik kept his gaze leveled straight ahead and dug his keycard out of his pocket.
“Roller has balls?” Ted Cutter called out. “I thought he’d lost his years ago.”
Henrik flipped them off and jammed the keycard into the lock. Their unoriginal ribbing wasn’t worth more. The lock clicked open, and he shoved into his room.
“I’ll get you when we’re heading down.” Feeney’s words were cut off when the door closed. Thank God.
Henrik heaved a sigh and tossed the keycard on the desk. The yawn hit him out of nowhere, and he stretched into it. Road trips sucked. They’d always sucked. But they wore him down faster now than they had five years ago. He was a fucking old bastard. That pulled a sarcastic chuckle from his chest. Hockey was one