He opened the passenger side of the truck for her, and she climbed into the seat. The truck was clean and smelled like him, which only made her belly flutter again. Sitting in a man’s vehicle always told her a bit about him. There was a Falcons jacket in the back seat and a couple of empty sports-drink bottles.
Hanging from the rearview mirror was a pine-scented car freshener. And Lindsey had the feeling it was the one she’d given him. After he walked around the truck, he tossed the duffle bag into the back seat, then climbed in.
He started the engine, then turned to her. “Why are you nervous?”
She hadn’t expected the question, so her answer wasn’t filtered. “About you, about your game, about coming here.” She winced. “That about covers it.”
He gazed at her for a moment, then took her hand and drew it to his lips. After placing a kiss on the back of her hand, he said, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous too.”
She gave a half laugh. “Why?”
“Because it’s been two weeks since I last saw you, and I didn’t know what it was going to be like seeing you again,” he said. “I didn’t know how I’d feel . . . or if I’d still feel the same as I did in Pine Valley.”
Her heart skipped at least one beat, possibly three or four. “And how do you feel now?” she ventured to say, even though they probably shouldn’t be having this talk only a short time after their reunion.
“Hooked.”
“Hooked?”
“Yeah, hooked.” He was still holding her hand, and he brushed his thumb over the outside of her wrist ever so slowly. “I’m no lawyer or wordsmith, so the only way I can describe how I feel about you is hooked.”
Thankfully the dimness in the cab of the truck hid Lindsey’s blush. “You’re a decent wordsmith. Don’t sell yourself short.”
He smiled. “Then you don’t feel nervous, okay? Remember I’m hiding all of those flaws.”
“Ha. Ha.”
He squeezed her hand before letting go and putting the truck into reverse. After backing out and shifting into drive, he grasped her hand again.
“Do you like Chinese food?” he asked as he turned out of the parking lot and pulled onto the road.
“Sure.”
Nelson picked up his phone, then spoke into the Bluetooth. “Chinese restaurant near me.” The video screen on his dash glowed to life, and Nelson called the Chinese place through the voice-prompt system. After ordering more than enough food, he hung up.
“I thought we could eat at my place, you know, uninterrupted by a server or other people,” he said. “In Vegas, I get recognized a lot.”
“All your adoring fans will be disappointed,” Lindsey teased. “Or you don’t want me to get jealous of all the fawning ladies?”
He chuckled, then his tone turned serious. “I’m not a player, Lindsey.”
“I know.”
He seemed surprised at this. “You know?”
“Don’t forget my profession, Nelson,” she said. “I’m pretty good at research.”
“So, what, you did a background check?”
Maybe she shouldn’t admit so much, but if he couldn’t take the heat and the scrutiny . . . “Yeah, among other things. And it’s not something I do with every man I go out with, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m a special case?”
She couldn’t read his tone, but he was still holding her hand, so there was that. “I was flying out to meet you, and a woman’s gotta do her due diligence.”
“I get it,” he said. “I’m glad you did. I’d hope my sister would do the same before flying around the country to watch some guy’s hockey game.” He pulled into a condo complex and drove past the first building, then parked in a numbered space.
The palm trees and lighting from the streetlamps made the place look like a postcard.
As they walked to his condo, he said, “Where did you decide to stay?”
“A hotel by the airport,” she said. “I sent my luggage with the hotel shuttle.”
They stopped in front of a door, and Nelson unlocked it. As he pushed open the door and flipped on an interior light, he said, “You know I have plenty of room. And an extra bedroom.”
“I know, you told me,” she said, ignoring how the timbre of his suggestion was still tempting, even though she’d already said no.
Lindsey walked into the condo. It was plainer than she’d imagined, not that she knew what to expect in the first place. The front room had the standard leather couch and a square coffee table with a few magazines scattered across it. All of them looked like hockey or other sports magazines.
A black-and-white painting on the wall drew her attention. It was an abstract, and the slashes and swirls didn’t seem to take any form or represent something.
“Have a seat,” Nelson said. “I’ll put my stuff away.”
She moved to the couch and sat down. From her position, she could see into the dim kitchen, where she spotted a black-painted table and four chairs. Nothing was on the counters. That surprised her the most. It was almost like he didn’t live here. She didn’t know what she’d expected exactly, but maybe he had a house in another city? Her investigation had also revealed that Nelson’s pro-hockey salary made him a millionaire many times over.
Nelson was moving about in another room, then Lindsey heard the sound of rushing water. He’d started a laundry load, and she guessed it was stuff he’d worn tonight. The domesticity of it all made her feel fluttery again. Which was ridiculous. Just because he was an amazing hockey player and had plenty of money didn’t mean he couldn’t do his own laundry.
The doorbell rang, and Lindsey rose to her feet as Nelson came down the hall.
“Must be the food.” He passed her, then opened the door and paid for the giant bags of food.
Once the delivery man left, Nelson turned to her. “Hope you’re as hungry as you said you are.”
“It smells great.” She followed him into the kitchen, and while he grabbed some water bottles from the fridge, she pulled the containers from the bag.
“Do you want a fork?” Nelson asked. “Or there should be chopsticks in one of the sacks.”
“I’ll manage with the chopsticks.”
Nelson nodded. “Great, I’ll do that too.”
Lindsey opened the containers. Her stomach was grumbling, and she’d have to make herself eat slow.
She picked up chicken from the cashew-chicken container. It was really good. She dug in again and ate some more.
“Like it?” Nelson asked. He hadn’t touched any of the food but was leaning back in his chair, watching her.
“I do.” She pointed her chopsticks at him. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’m enjoying watching you eat.”
She made a face and pushed the container of cashew chicken toward him. “Try this. You’ll like it.”
Nelson smiled, then leaned forward and picked up his chopsticks. “Yes, ma’am.”
It wasn’t that Nelson couldn’t use chopsticks. In theory. He had the basics down, but Lindsey seemed quite at ease, whereas he had to try two or three times to get in a single bite.
“You can use a fork; I won’t judge you,” Lindsey said, laughter in her tone.
Nelson met her blue gaze over his kitchen table. He was still sort of in awe that she was here, in Vegas, and in his condo. She looked good in his condo too. A nice contrast to the plain black-and-white surroundings. He wasn’t much of a decorator, and save for the one abstract painting hanging on the living room wall, he hadn’t added anything since moving in.
“I can manage with chopsticks,” Nelson said. “I’m sure it gets easier with practice, like everything else.”
Lindsey was obviously trying not to laugh at him. “Whatever you say.” She took another bite of the chow mein. She made eating with chopsticks look easy.
He fumbled with his next bite but was finally victorious. He wasn’t going to get full any time soon eating this way. “Is there anything you can’t
do, Lindsey Gerber?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I can’t play hockey. I can’t even ice skate.”
“Everyone can ice skate,” he said. “When’s the last time you went?”
“Um, never.”
He stared at her, and she stared right back. “You’re kidding,” he said finally.
“Nope.” She shrugged and speared some of the sweet-and-sour pork.
“We’re going ice skating tomorrow.”
“We really don’t have to,” she said. “Aren’t you on the ice enough?”
“Not with you.”
She shook her head. “You’re a nut, and I’m getting you a fork.”
Before Nelson could protest, Lindsey stood and grabbed a fork from one of the drawers. She brought it over to him.
“Why, thank you.”
Lindsey smirked. “No, I’m the one who’s thankful. It’s painful to watch you eat a bite about every five minutes.”
He chuckled, then started eating like he usually did. With a fork. He looked up a few moments later to find Lindsey watching him. “You were right, happy?”
She only smiled.
When they’d both finished, Lindsey started packing up the containers and setting them on the counter. As she opened the fridge, Nelson said, “Let’s just throw those away.”
Lindsey looked down at the container in her hands. “It will still be good for a couple of days.”
He took the container. “I don’t eat leftovers.”
Lindsey looked from him to the inside of the fridge, which he knew was basically filled with water bottles and sports drinks. “You really don’t eat leftovers? Why not?”
“Because that’s what I grew up on,” he said, bypassing Lindsey and closing the fridge door. “Fast-food leftovers. And I decided that the day I could afford to eat freshly prepared meals, I’d stop eating leftovers.”
Lindsey took the container back, opened the fridge, and set it on the middle shelf. Then she proceeded loading every single container that still held food into the fridge.
Nelson watched her, arms folded.
When she faced him, she was smiling. “I love leftovers. In fact, I think sometimes the food is better the second time around. So if I’m hanging out with you tomorrow, I want to know that I can open your fridge and warm up some delicious Chinese food.”
She made a good argument. A dang good one.
“Tell you what,” he said. “You come over here and kiss me with that sassy mouth of yours, and the leftovers can stay in the fridge.”
“Told you your insides are like marshmallows,” she said, moving closer to him.
He unfolded his arms, and she ran her hands up his chest.
Yeah. It was good to have her in Vegas, in person.
Her hands continued their path, moving over his shoulders, then to the edges of the collar of his shirt. She smelled of that perfume she always wore.
He grasped her hips and pulled her close.
Lindsey only smiled, then she moved her hands behind his neck and into his hair. When she finally kissed him, he closed his eyes and kissed her back.
They kissed slowly at first. But the heat steadily built, and Nelson moved his hands up her back, anchoring her against him. Her curves melded against the planes of his body, and he marveled at how perfectly they seemed to fit together.
He drew back to breathe, only to lean down and kiss the side of her neck, then lower. Lindsey sighed and gripped his shoulders as he kissed her collar bone. Her skin was soft, like the petals of the tulips he’d given her in Pine Valley, her scent intoxicating, and her hands on him created an existence he never wanted to return from.
“Nelson,” she whispered.
He was lost, though, in her touch, in her taste, and it wasn’t until she said his name louder that he lifted his head.
Her cheeks were flushed pink, her lips swollen from their kissing. “We need to cool things off.” Her gaze was both serious and amused.
So he kissed her gently on the mouth. “Are you sure? I’m kind of enjoying this.”
She moved a hand along his neck, then over his shoulder, and stopping at his bicep. “I don’t want things to move too fast, because I really like you.”
“Isn’t that an oxymoron?” His mind was starting to return to earth, but only just.
Lindsey bit her bottom lip.
Not helping.
“I don’t want to mess things up between us,” she said. “You know, make it all about the physical stuff. I can’t deny that I’m tempted to stay here tonight, but . . .”
He traced the edge of her jaw with his thumb. “I do know,” he murmured. “Because I feel the same way. Lindsey Gerber, you’re not a fling. And I hope that you don’t think I see you that way.”
She didn’t respond for a moment, then she pulled him into a hug.
Nelson held her close. It seemed like with every interaction with Lindsey, he was falling deeper and deeper.
“Now what?” she murmured.
He chuckled. “Now what do we do since you made me stop kissing you?”
She drew away and smiled. “Yeah.”
He pretended to think. “Well, there aren’t any elk nearby to go watch. There’s always the Strip, but I’d rather hang out with just you. We already ate. And the ice-skating rink is closed by now. So that leaves . . .”
“Not grocery shopping.”
“Ha. No.” He grasped her hand and drew her toward the living room. “Mindless movie watching while I try to steal more kisses.”
Lindsey scoffed but let him lead her to the couch. He flipped on the big screen on the opposite wall, then pulled up a movie menu.
“You choose,” he said, handing over the remote.
“Oh, no,” she said, refusing to take it. “I chose last time, and we didn’t even make it through the show. You’re choosing.”
“Okay.” He scrolled through some of the genres, then settled on a Matt Damon flick that had come out about a year ago. “You want popcorn or anything?”
“I’m good,” Lindsey said. “Do you even have popcorn?”
“No.”
She laughed. “So what were you going to do, run to the store?”
“Start texting my neighbors.”
Lindsey shook her head in amusement.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and he returned to the kitchen to put together a bag of ice for his knee.
When he settled next to Lindsey and set the ice over his knee, she said, “Are you hurting?”
“Just sore,” he said. And it was true, mostly. His knee hadn’t bothered him until he’d taken off his skates; of course, that was when the adrenaline from the game had started to wear off too.
“Well, you have three days until the conference finals, right?”
“Yeah,” he said.
She nodded. “I read up on the Stanley Cup. I didn’t know there could be seven games. I thought it was just one game.”
“It’s like the World Series, four out of seven games.”
“Well, I’m sure your team is glad you’re back,” she said.
He should have agreed, because in theory it should be true, but returning after an injury was a lot tougher than he’d thought. He had to focus even more to keep his mental game, because he knew how easy it was now to tear something. And the glaring discontentment among some of the teammates was more obvious now that he’d been away from it for a few weeks.
Lindsey was gazing at him, small lines between her brows. “Aren’t you glad to be back? I mean, tonight was an incredible game.”
“Yeah.” He lifted a hand and curled her hair around his fingers. “I just didn’t know that I’d meet such an amazing woman who lived hundreds of miles away.”
The edges of her mouth lifted. “No amazing women in Vegas?”
“Nope.”
She laughed. And he smiled.
“So, I have some good news,” she said. “I was going to tell you earlier, but we weren’t done basking in your glory.”
“And we’re done now?” he teased.
She leaned close and kissed him on the cheek. How could such a small gesture make his pulse go wild?
“So, Paul dropped his personal suit,” she said, “and Dawson is pretty sure it’s because he was put on long-term leave by the firm.”
“Wow.”
“Unpaid leave,” she continued. “Apparently Paul the lawyer doesn’t want to pony up lawyer fees.”
“What about your case against the firm?”
“They want to negotiate a settlement, keep it out of the public eye.”
“I can see pros and cons to that,” Nelson said. “Pros are that it’s going to be over a lot quicker, and you can move on with your life. Cons are that paying a settlement feels like a mere slap.”
Lindsey scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms about his waist. Then she nestled her head against his shoulder. “That’s what I like about you, Nelson. Sometimes I feel like you can read my mind.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “Not too bad for a meathead.”
She only held him tighter.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “Dawson and I are going over everything on Tuesday. I told him I needed a few days to think through everything.”
“Do you want me to come to that meeting?” he asked.
She drew away and looked at him. “You can’t leave Vegas. What would your coach say? Besides, the semis are Monday night. What are the chances of there being a late flight?”
“I’ll charter a plane,” he said.
When she shook her head, he added, “I’m not exactly on a tight budget, despite the sparseness of my condo. Thanks to my sister’s advice, I’ve been pretty good about investing.”
“You don’t have a bunch of houses you haven’t told me about?” she asked. “Or a secret gambling addiction?”
“Some property investments, but no houses,” he said. “And I don’t gamble . . . which is probably a good thing, considering where I currently live.”
“Still, you can’t spend that kind of money on this—on me,” Lindsey said. “I mean, your priority is your team. Your season.”
“Priorities can change.” The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to be in the meeting with Lindsey. To support her in whatever she needed.
All for You Page 11