After my Tuesday morning workout, I hustle across campus to make it in time for my post-gym treat. The team’s nutritionist stays on us about our intake during the season. I adhere to the recommendations closer than some of the other guys because I’m serious about this. It’s all part of playing my best, starting with how I fuel myself.
But sometimes a man just needs a donut.
Coach has been handing our asses to us on the ice to make up for the loss against Elmwood on Friday, despite securing a W for Saturday’s home game. Not one guy is slacking. We’re shaping up for the next games on the schedule this weekend. Skating with these guys makes me a better player because we all want to earn our next win.
The pastel-colored food truck comes into view. It only parks on campus for a short window on certain days every other month. I rub my stomach in anticipation.
“No line,” I mumble cheerfully.
My mind becomes one-track—no thoughts, only donuts. I’m digging for my wallet while scanning the display window before I’ve reached the truck. Spotting my favorite kind, I grin.
Right as I come to a stop in front of the pink counter and open my mouth, someone cuts me off.
“I’ll take the sour cream with cinnamon vanilla glaze, please,” she says.
I jolt, snapping my head to the side. It’s her. Donnelly’s sister. Who is also Donnelly in my head because I never got her name.
Damn, I thought she was gorgeous under the dim bar lights with her soft curves and addictive confident smile, but in the light of day she steals my breath.
She’s bundled in an oversized cream sherpa jacket and leggings. It’s not in a seductive outfit, yet she has all of my focus. I haven’t run into her for four days, and just like Friday night the mere sight of her has my pulse speeding up.
The bright morning sun catches her chestnut hair, highlighting fairer strands. In the heels of those knee-high boots, she came to my chin, but without the couple of extra inches I’m at the perfect height to kiss the top of her head.
She puts her coffee from Clocktower Brew House on the counter—a mocha latte going by the scrawled handwriting on the cup. There’s a peppermint stick poking out of the lid that has me picturing her plush lips wrapped around it, sending my mind down a path I need to cut off before I’m standing in the middle of campus with a boner.
Donnelly isn’t paying me any attention, more occupied with rummaging in her crossbody saddle bag.
More importantly, she ordered my favorite donut. It’s a sign.
“Last one,” the perky donut dealer announces.
“Wait,” I stammer.
“Great,” Donnelly says.
“Hang on.” I step in front of her to create a barrier between her and the donut, offering a crooked smile. “We meet again.”
Her lips part in surprise now that I’ve earned her full attention. “Captain.”
The lopsided curve of my mouth stretches into a grin. “I like it when you call me that.”
Her brows lift and the corner of her mouth twitches with a suppressed smile. “Don’t get used to it. From now on, you’ll be captain full-of-yourself.”
“I can live with that.” I swipe a hand over my mouth in an effort to hide the amused noise trying to escape me. “I’ve gotta say, I much prefer your company to your brother’s. You’re my favorite Donnelly now.”
“An honor.” She grants me a sardonic little bow. “Are you going to move so I can pay for my donut? I’ll be late for class.”
“The thing is, I want that donut. Been craving it all through my morning weight training.”
She scoffs in amusement, eyeing me up and down. “Is this you defending the donut from me?”
She’s got me there. Basically, yeah, I am defending the donut I’ve been craving. Plus, the longer I keep her here, the more time I get to spend with her. An unquestionable win-win.
“We both can get what we want. We’ll split it. Pick out another kind and we’ll share them.”
I dip my chin to seal the deal with something that always works: smoldering puppy dog eyes. It makes all the girls I’ve been with fold like a house of cards. Noah says it’s my blue eyes, girls can’t resist them.
Usually.
Donnelly is immune to my tactics. Instead of agreeing to what I want, she mocks me with a head tilt and puppy eyes of her own. My pulse skips. She looks cute like that.
“Split it?” She sidesteps me to get to the counter. “A gentleman would let me have the donut. I was here first.”
“Actually, we arrived at the same time. So fair is fair.”
Before she can pay, I move in beside her and slide a twenty to the girl running the food truck. I give Donnelly a sidelong glance to check if she’s still going to fight mel. Her stare lingers on my hand resting on the counter, veins prominent from my workout.
“Okay, fine,” she agrees begrudgingly a few seconds later. “The maple bacon.”
There’s no stopping the groan that leaves me at her choice because fuck yes that sounds good. “I like the way you think, Donnelly.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. I catch the faint pink tinge in her cheeks while she avoids looking my way and stares at the display case.
“Also a Boston cream, please,” she adds hastily, pointing to the custard-stuffed chocolate iced donut in the corner. She peeks at me. “Is that cool with you?”
“Yeah.”
I’m not about to say no if it means spending more time splitting donuts with her. She tries to offer me money while our selections are packed up. I shake my head.
“I’ve got it.”
“If we’re sharing, then let me pay for half.” Her lips slide together and her gaze cuts to the side. “I don’t want you to think I owe you something because you paid.”
Something cinches tightly in my chest at her hushed yet guarded tone.
“It’s just donuts. No strings, I promise.” I take the bag and guide her away from the food truck with my hand resting lightly at the small of her back. I keep my tone joking. “I don’t need to resort to such underhanded tactics to get you to say yes to me, baby. Unless I can use these donuts to bargain with you to get you to wear a Heston jersey to our next home game this week.”
She exhales, seeming more relaxed. “Not a chance. I won’t be there or at any other games. Friday was a one time thing.”
“Are you doubting my persuasion skills? I got you to give me half of my favorite donut, didn’t I? We’re just getting started here.”
She shoots me a wry glance and points to a round stone table in the shade of some maple trees that still have most of their orange and red leaves. “There’s a nice spot over there.”
We each take a seat on the stone benches on opposite sides of the table.
I pass her share of our donuts to her once I divide them. “You know, I can’t keep calling you Donnelly. We’re splitting donuts. That makes us friends in my book. I’m Easton.”
“I know.” The corners of her mouth lift.
I perk up. She didn’t know my name the other night when we left the bar together. “You looked me up?”
She breaks out in a radiant grin and shows me her phone. It’s opened to a text conversation with her brother. He rags on her for letting Easton fucking bag of dicks Blake carry her out of the bar. My brows shoot up and I laugh.
“That’s quite the mouthful of a name. I don’t know if it’ll fit on my ID. I’ll have to go the initials route.” I brace my forearms on the table. “So you know my name. If you don’t tell me yours, I guess I’ll be forced to call you Donnelly forever.”
She shakes her head, pretty hazel eyes gleaming. “It’s Maya.”
“Maya.” I like the sound of it. “Maya Donnelly.”
“Okay, stop saying my name.” She covers my mouth with a hand when I start to murmur it again. “For real.”
I give her palm a quick kiss, chuckling when she whips it back to her side of the table. She can’t quite stifle a laugh and crams a large bite of maple bacon in her mouth. I mirror her and spend several moments in heaven at the taste. Sweet and savory, what a combo.
“Goddamn, that’s good. Bacon makes everything better.”
She hums in agreement. I finish off the maple bacon in another bite and go for the Boston cream next, saving my favorite for last. It takes no time at all to demolish my portion of the Boston cream before she’s even finished her first donut half. I hold my last one up, anticipation building.
For a minute, I debate sending a photo of my little cheat snack to the guys. It’s something we like to do. Another tradition the older players pass down to the incoming rookies that bonds us as a team.
I would send it, but I want this moment with Maya to myself.
“Guess I’ll be going for an extra run later for indulging like this.” I take a bite and hold a fist to my mouth, fucking blissed out on the best donut in Connecticut. “Worth it.”
“So worth it,” Maya mumbles, more to herself than me.
She’s in her own world, absorbed in enjoying her treat. And I’m wrapped up in watching her.
Does she know she’s torturing me with the dollop of custard from the cream-filled one at the corner of her mouth? The way she wipes it with her finger and licks it off has my throat going dry.
The crisp morning breeze catches her wavy brown hair and sends a flutter of orange leaves to the ground around our table. My donut hangs from my fingertips, partially forgotten in favor of studying her while she eats. This is nice. We’re not talking, but I don’t mind the quiet. I might barely know her yet, but this has the makings of the same type of comfortable silence I have with Cameron and the guys.
It goes hand in hand with an instinctive sense of trust. I don’t get to have that with a lot of people. Definitely not with most of the girls I know, except for Reagan at The Landmark. For that reason alone, I know I have to get to know her more.
She pulls me out of my trance when she checks her phone and mutters a reluctant curse. “Thanks for the donuts. I’d better run.”
I watch her fold up her napkins into tiny squares and stand, gathering her things. “You’re leaving?”
“If I don’t go now, I’ll be more than ten minutes late for class. Luckily for me, the professor doesn’t show up until twenty minutes into the lecture. The TA is more lenient on attendance.”
“That is lucky. Can’t say the same. All of my professors go hard on us, even the student athletes.”
I shove the rest of my donut in my mouth before getting up to take her little origami trash collection. I dump it with mine, then walk with her in the direction she starts off in.
“Were you hoping for an easy ride?” she taunts.
“Nah. I don’t mind the hard work. It keeps me focused.” I stretch my arms overhead, noticing that the move draws her gaze to my biceps. Her eyes dart away when she realizes I caught her checking me out. “I’m not about slacking or cutting corners.”
“Spoken like any good captain,” she says.
Pride swells in my chest. I want to be a man Dad would be proud of. Someone capable of taking care of others, and for me that includes leading my team as captain.
“Come to more of the games. You’ll see my work ethic in action.”
She plays with the strap of her purse. “I don’t think so.”
“Then let me take you out.”
“Not happening.” She takes the steps of a building that I think I had a sociology class in last year. A few steps up puts her level with my height when she turns around to face me. “You’ll have to try harder. Bye, hotshot.”
I grin like an idiot. “I guess I will. Later, Maya.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket a couple of times. Probably the guys in our group text wondering where the hell I am since we all left the weight room around the same time. I’m too busy enjoying the view until Maya disappears inside the building.
