Beckett’s knee jittered as he navigated the streets of downtown DC. His gut was tight, the way it squeezed when he was on the bench, watching other guys play instead of being out there himself.
“Five-game winning streak,” Eden said, pulling her gaze from the passenger’s window.
Her hair was down and loose. She’d come out of the ambulance company in inky jeans, a San Diego hoodie, and not an ounce of makeup. And she looked freaking gorgeous.
“Mmm-hmm.” He wanted to ask if she’d watched or caught that on the news. Wanted to ask if her feelings toward the game had changed. Wanted to ask her if touching him after six days felt as good to her as touching her felt to him.
God, he was such an asshole.
He’d waited outside her work on purpose, knowing it would probably spook her. He’d planned this breakfast for the same reason. She didn’t know it yet, but it wasn’t going to be what she expected. He’d justified it by telling himself he wanted to see if she had what it took to fit in with the people who mattered to him. He wanted to know if she could roll with the perpetual changes inherent in his life. But the truth was, he was looking for a reason to weed her out. An excuse to push her to the back of his mind and move on.
But that had been before she’d walked out of the building and he’d locked eyes with her. Before those bizarre pangs kicked up. Before she’d smiled and agreed to take another chance on him, even after he’d been a creep and borderline stalked her. And now, he was stuck with his stupid plan already in motion, far too aware of how fully this could backfire on him.
“I didn’t know Porsche made SUVs.” Her smile felt like sugar and sunshine all wrapped into one beam that pierced his chest. “Sort of an oxymoron, right? When you think Porsche, you think race car. A Porsche SUV is just…” She seemed to take stock of her words and backpedaled. “But…I mean…it’s nice.”
He stopped at a traffic light and squeezed her hand. “Don’t blow smoke. Truth, remember?”
“It is nice. I didn’t want you to think I—”
“I’m not that sensitive.”
She seemed to like that. Her smile returned and reached her eyes. “Okay.”
And they stared at each other for a long, hot second.
“God, you’re beautiful.” The words were out, floating around the car before Beckett realized he’d said them and not thought them. “Sorry. I’ve never been really good at keeping inside thoughts inside.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, then shook her head and looked out the window again. “Where are we going? There aren’t any restaurants in this area. Are you lost? I know just about every street in this city.”
Of course she did. He’d forgotten all about that.
He released a nervous breath. “Uh…” he hedged. “We’re almost there.”
“You don’t sound as happy about that as you did when you picked me up.”
He turned down their final street and slowed. “Yeah, well, that’s because I thought there was a damn good chance you were going to turn me down.”
She gave him a silly frown. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Beckett turned into the YMCA parking lot, where balloons and banners for the fundraiser flew. “We’re here.” He feigned excitement but braced for…hell, he didn’t even know what to expect. Anger, disappointment… “Surprise?”
“The Y,” she said, part what the hell, part humor.
“Let me guess, you’ve been here a time or two.”
“Or ten.” She looked over the YMCA, took in the balloons and banners, eyes narrowed. Finally, she shook her head. “Nope, can’t figure this one out on my own. You’re gonna have to help me.”
“We’re doing a pancake breakfast this morning. A fundraiser for the Y. We donate things for a silent auction, cook breakfast, then wander around while people are eating and take pictures, sign autographs. The money goes to summer and after-school programs so parents who work don’t have to leave their kids home alone. This is our fifth annual.”
Her head slowly turned toward him, a furrow dipping her brow. “On a weekday?”
“That’s so we can get corporate donors. A lot of Rough Riders fans work in the city and stay late to see games, but they live in the surrounding Metro area. And we discovered that more people showed and we raised more money when we did it on a weekday, because no one wants to commute back into the city on Saturday or Sunday.”
She turned her gaze on Beckett. “So, you’re telling me that you’re going to be cooking and networking at this breakfast? And I’m going to be doing…what, exactly?”
He winced.
She sighed. “Well, this is certainly public. As for the getting-to-know-each-other part…” She shrugged.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “It seemed like a good idea when I first thought of it.”
She lifted a brow. “Is that how you got so damned good at hockey? Going with your first idea?”
He grinned, jumping at the chance to change the subject. “You think I’m good?”
“That’s what people say.”
He deflated. “I’m obviously not as good at other things.”
“I don’t know about that.” She released a breath, leaned against the door, and stared at him. “You are so sweetly flawed.”
Donovan, Savage, and Kristoff came out of the building and spotted his car. Beckett’s breath leaked out on a groan.
Eden followed his gaze. “This must be the we.”
“If you want me to take you back, now would be the time to ask.”
As the guys approached, Beckett hit the locks, and when Donovan reached Eden’s door with a big smile, he found himself locked out.
“Hey, you said to make her feel welcome.” His smile fell, and he stabbed a finger at the lock and glared at Beckett. “That’s not welcoming.”
Eden started laughing. “He’s really adorable.” She looked at Beckett with a spark in her eye. “Does he have a girlfriend?”
Beckett lifted his hands and waved them in an X. “Wait, wait, wait—”
“For Tori.”
“Oh. Well then, no. But he’s been through a bad divorce recently, so…”
“Oh…” Her expression sobered. “Will you be able to get me home by two? I have class at three, and it takes me an hour to get there.”
Beckett had to pick up Lily at school at three. And he’d already threatened death to anyone who slipped and mentioned her name in the event that Eden showed today. “Absolutely.”
She heaved a sigh. “All right, then. Let’s get cookin’.”
Eden pulled the handle, popping the lock, and Donovan was there to open the door and offer a hand to help her out, as if she were arriving by fucking magic pumpkin coach or something.
Maybe he spent too much time in little-girl land. Puffles, magic pumpkin coaches…
“Dude,” Savage called, then gave him double thumbs-up. Eden was already walking toward the Y between Donovan and Kristoff, talking and laughing. “Comin’?”
Beckett stood from the car and rounded the back to pull out the silent-auction donations as Eden disappeared inside. Somehow, that didn’t surprise him. What really surprised him was how damn happy he was with her response.
