The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,27

said the challenge in it didn’t entice me.

11

Indy

“You were serious about the Duck Tour?” he accuses as I hold up two tickets for Boston’s famous Duck Tour and fan myself with them.

“You’re going to thank me later when we drink a pint at Cheers and chuckle over our favorite memories from this must-do city attraction.”

Noah tosses his head back and laughs. He’s glorious when he does that. Like a Roman emperor meets a modern-day Casanova meets a supreme athlete. Okay, rein it in, Indiana.

“Come on. Pretend, for one day, that you’re visiting Boston for the first time. Try and see it as an outsider would. It really is beautiful and brimming with so much history, so much character and charm, just,” I sigh, more dreamily than I intend, “life.”

Noah snickers but agrees to take it all in stride. Even though it’s early October and a winter chill hangs in the air, it isn’t unbearable. In fact, the lineup for my favorite city tour is intense. In front of us, a family of six waits with kids jumping up and down and spilling popcorn along the curb. Noah smiles at one of the little girls. She sticks her tongue out at him and I crack up. “First female immune to your charms,” I joke.

“My demographic is considerably older,” he agrees.

The massive tank pulls up to the side of the curb and people begin singling on, pausing for the obligatory tourist photo.

“Yay!” I point, gripping his forearm with both of mine. I usher Noah to the front. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and I try not to lean too much into him, which is tough since it’s pretty much the number one thing I want to do. That and have sex with him again, which is so not happening.

“Smile,” the photographer orders. I cheese hard.

Once we climb up onto the tank, the breeze kicks up and I shiver, tucking my hands into my scarf.

“You warm enough?” Noah asks, placing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer.

Now I am. Thank God those words don’t fall from my desperate-for-his-touch mouth. Instead, I look up and nod, trying my best not to make star beams at him with my eyes.

Noah Scotch is off-limits. He’s a hockey player. A man who wants none of the same things as me. A guy whose career and ambitions will always come before mine.

If I constantly remind myself of these important facts, I may be able to get through this day date without throwing myself at him. Maybe.

“All right, ladies, gentlemen, and families of all sizes. We’re about to get this party started. Welcome to the Duck Tour!” the guide calls out into his microphone and everyone claps and cheers. We roll through downtown Boston with our guide pointing out historical landmarks and explaining their backstories.

Noah leans toward me and whispers, “Your mouth is hanging open.”

I snap it closed and turn to look at him.

He’s grinning. “I thought you’ve been on this tour before.”

“This is my third one.”

He snickers. “Okay, you are a nerd.”

I smile back, nodding in agreement.

“But a hot nerd.” He bites his bottom lip.

“Teacher’s pet.” I pat his hand. Surprise zips through me as he clasps my fingers in his and holds on to them for a beat too long.

“I bet all the guys in your class have the hots for you,” he says, his tone more serious than a moment ago.

“The guys in my class are barely legal.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not crushing on you.”

I shrug. “It’s more the TA’s than the students in my classes.”

His brow furrows. “TA’s?”

“Teaching assistants. They’re usually grad school students who pick up the TA gig as a work-study or a way to reduce their tuition costs.”

“And you have one?”

“Two actually.”

“And he hits on you?” Noah’s lips press together and I can’t tell if he’s simply curious or a little jealous.

Is it pathetic that I want him to be a tiny bit jealous?

I grin coyly and lift an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call it hitting on me. He’s just flirtatious, is all.”

“Flirtatious,” Noah repeats, an undercurrent to his tone.

“You’re going to miss the best part,” I sidetrack him as the tank eases into the Charles River and turns into a boat. “Ta-da!” I throw my arms open wide.

Noah smiles and wraps an arm casually around my shoulders. I face forward, listening to the tour guide. But I don’t miss the way Noah studies my profile for a long moment. Or that he doesn’t remove his arm from around my