Page 10 of Tough Score
God, I hope he'd leave a mark.
Proof that he was there.
His eyes shoot down to catch the movement of my tongue licking my lip. His eyes come back up to mine and now those tame irises from before have a fire in them that I hadn’t seen until now.
"I wouldn't want you to have to bite anyone for me," I say, trying to shake the visual of his perfect teeth scraping over my sensitive body parts. I try to shake the thought but it's a hard one to kill. "I'll try to stay out of trouble from now on so you can enjoy your night."
He looks around the bar for a second, almost as if to detect any other threat to my well-being, or maybe I just imagined that.
"You shouldn't have any problems from here on out. The entire bar just saw that they'll have me to deal with if they decide to mess with you. And unlike you, they've all seen me in a bar fight."
My lungs seize up, forgetting how to expand and contract. A daily function that I'd like to think they've perfected over the last twenty-six years of my life.
"Someone would want to start a fight with you?" I ask, glazing over the fact that he just claimed to protect me against anyone inside this bar.
It's the first time a man has ever made a claim like that to me, though I'm sure my uncle would jump in without thinking twice. He's just never said it like Reeve just did.
My uncle is family, though, and Reeve is a stranger. He has no reason to protect me other than the fact that he wants to.
"No one here, most likely. It's mostly fans so I'm not anticipating an issue. But you'll tell me if anyone causes you problems?" he asks.
"Yeah, I will," I say, gripping the tray of glasses a little tighter.
Shivers race down my spine at the thought of someone wanting to shield me like that, though I'd be a fool to believe that it's possible.
Not that he can't protect me from some drunk idiot in the bar. I'm sure he can do that—but he can’t shield me from the scrutiny of the media and the backlash I get when people find out who I'm related to. Even Reeve would run for the hills if he ever found out.
I might as well have leprosy when it comes to getting close to anyone looking for a long career in professional sports.
I cut eye contact to get some reprieve from the sincerity in his eyes that makes me feel a little guilty for not just confessing who I am right off the bat. My vision glides over his damp shirt that hugs every inch of his perfectly chiseled chest.
All of the other players are wearing windbreakers or jackets except for him.
"Did you forget your coat back at the stadium?" I ask, changing the subject.
"No. I don't need one."
I glance towards the front door of the bar as a customer walks in and I catch the pouring rain outside right before the door shuts behind them.
My eyes connect back to his.
"But it's cold and pouring outside."
"I'm a hockey player and I grew up in Alaska. I'm used to it being colder than this. It doesn't bother me."
"Oh right. I guess that makes sense," I say, instantly wanting to internet stalk the Hawkeyes player who made the kind of shot at tonight's game that a hockey fan might only ever witness once in their lifetime.
Was I a little turned-on seeing Aisa make that goal earlier this evening?
I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but definitely. And now, seeing him in real life, hovering over me and making proclamations to protect me against anyone who dares to cause me any trouble, I'm curious what it would be like to be with someone with that much precision.
But that will never happen because I already like him too much to ruin his career by his direct association with me.
As he's opening his mouth to say something, Seven Wrenley walks up behind him and slaps him on the shoulder.
"We're up next. Are you ready to play?"
Seven's attention shifts to me and he takes a step forward, reaching out a hand towards me. "Hey, I'm Seven. You're Oakley's niece from Arizona, right?" he asks.