The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,8
interact with want something from me, like an autograph or tickets to a game. Most women I engage with offer something up on a silver platter, like an opportunity to get naked and not talk.
The thought rattles me a little. It’s been too many years since I’ve had to put any type of work in with a woman and because Indy isn’t a regular woman I can just sleep with and never see again, I feel out of my depth having a normal conversation.
“I like it.” She wrinkles her nose. “Not a huge fan of winter so I’m not sure what the next few months are going to be like. But I like being closer to my cousins and aunt and uncle.”
“And your parents moved up here too?”
She nods, taking another sip of her drink. “I guess in that sense I’m lucky to be an only. With Dad retired, they could move anywhere and they’re pretty set on being close to me.”
I scratch my cheek, wondering what the hell that must be like. My parents struggle to tolerate East and me for the one or two visits a year we make upstate. They would never move anywhere just to be closer to us, even if it was all expenses paid. I’ve never been my parents’ focus or priority, just an added burden on the periphery of their lives that child services demanded they pay attention to every now and then. As long as East and I cut them monthly checks, they don’t care about what’s happening in our lives. “Yeah, I remember how much your dad would try to drag you to all our hockey camps whenever you guys came up to Boston in the summer.”
Indy rolls her eyes. “He may have been mildly disappointed I turned out to be a girl more interested in ballet and books than in perfecting a slap shot.”
I chuckle, recalling Indy sitting on the bleachers, her eyes scanning line after line, devouring chapters like it nourished her soul, while her dad ran an impromptu session that any of the players attending would talk about for the next year straight. Jeremiah Merrick is a hockey legend and while I’m sure part of him is disappointed that his only child couldn’t care less about hockey, I doubt he was ever disappointed he had a daughter instead of a son. “Nah, your dad straight up dotes on you.”
She blushes, grinning. “I am a massive daddy’s girl.”
“You and Claire and Savannah. I feel bad for the Merrick dads.” I rattle the ice in my glass before draining my drink.
“Yeah. Our dads are pretty great. They give good advice.”
“Such as?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Never date a hockey player.”
I tip my head back and laugh, nodding in agreement with that nugget of wisdom. “Yeah, on that front, I’d bet your dad was relieved you were too lost in your books to pay attention to us on the ice, doing our best to impress you.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “You guys tried to impress me?”
“All the time!” I turn toward her, so I’m facing her straight on. Even in her heels, the top of her head barely comes up to my chin. She’s so petite, I could probably wrap my hands around her waist and my fingers would touch. It’s strange, but the observation makes me feel even more protective of Indy than I did when Austin left her in my care. “Don’t you remember those skating races we would have?”
She shakes her head, looking genuinely confused.
“Oh my God,” I moan. “I don’t know whether to be jealous that your fantasy fiction books were more interesting or impressed that you were that devoted to your reading and studies.”
She blushes again, biting the corner of her mouth. It’s sweet and tempting, contradicting gestures that make me want to wrap my arms around her for being so damn irresistible.
“Wait a minute.” I frown, remembering the only guy I’ve ever heard her speak about. “Didn’t you date a hockey player?”
Her blush deepens and a ripple of pain crosses her face, her lips pinching. While I mentally swear at myself for bringing up some douche who obviously hurt her, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that my curiosity is piqued. What hockey player had a shot with Indiana and fucked it up for the rest of us?
“It didn’t work out,” she says softly, her fingers toying with the straw in her glass. She glances up at me, her eyes tender. “We were together for years