CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

L uke

“What do you mean, we’re not staying in Boston?”

I blink at Ella over the Blizzards’ conference table. Since joining the show, I’ve been in this room more times than I’ve ever desired. I’m the kind of player who stays as far away from management as possible. I slide my gaze around the room from Daniela to Oskar to Nate to Sebastian in order to see what they think.

It’s a mistake. Golden light streams from the floor-to-ceiling windows, swathing Sebastian in a shimmery light. I am totally up for anytime Sebastian wants to suck on me.

Last night was...

Sebastian’s eyes blaze, and maybe I’m staring at him lustfully, and maybe Sebastian is sort of staring at me lustfully because Oskar chooses that time to cough.

Sometimes I think he might be onto us. I’m not quite sure what I said in Montreal when I was loopy from painkillers and buoyed by the knowledge Sebastian would be coming to the hotel with me, but from the curious looks Oskar and Dr. Novak both shoot me, I have the feeling I wasn’t the most discreet.

It doesn’t matter. I’ll be discreet now. My plan is not to get reinjured, not to lower my inhibitions, not to gaze at Sebastian in wonder...

Oskar coughs again. “Sorry! I guess I have a cold.”

“Should I turn up the heat?” Daniela asks.

“It’s already hot enough,” Oskar mumbles.

Daniela’s eyebrows lurch upward, but luckily Ella begins to speak again, flailing her arms in that enthusiastic LA manner that gets people to pledge millions of dollars and mortgage their house and their children’s houses all for the pursuit of a dream and fancy cameras videotaping people pretending to be other people.

“You’re not cleared to play yet,” Ella reminds me.

I’m not the type of guy who generally scowls at people, and cheerfulness is something that has never irritated me, but there’s surely no reason for her to look so upbeat.

Sebastian’s blue eyes slide toward me. I want to gaze into them forever. I want to name each fleck of blue.

Instead, I take a lengthy drink of the cucumber-and-lemon infused water and avoid looking at him.

“I believe Luke finds it upsetting that he’s not cleared to play,” Sebastian says.

“Right. Of course.” Ella is still smiling though. “I mean, we all at Falcon Productions are exceedingly sad at what happened. We’re delighted it wasn’t more serious.”

I want to tell her not being able to help my team is serious.

“But this means we’ll definitely be able to do a hometown date for you?” Ella asks.

Sebastian’s face pales, but I’m sure this means I can sneak into his hotel room, and I find myself leaning forward. “That sounds nice.”

“Really?” Ella claps her hands and squeals.

It’s probably good these rooms are soundproofed, lest someone in the next room drop a dumbbell or something.s

“Because Sebastian thought maybe you wouldn’t want to travel with your injury...”

“Yes,” Sebastian says quickly. “I do think that.”

“Oh.” I blink at him.

Daniela and Oskar are watching me. There’s no way I’m going to imply to them that I not only can’t play hockey but also can’t travel. I mean, I’m a hockey player. I’m literally paid millions of dollars each year to be tough.

Maybe Sebastian hasn’t realized the overnight hotel room potential.

“I mean, it will be nice to meet Willow’s and Flora’s families,” I say. “Both women are really nice, and I bet their parents are great too.”

“Oh.” Ella blinks. “Well, that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

Sebastian shuts his eyes. His lashes flutter down, and it occurs to me that I need to measure them. Or count them. Or measure and count them. Just because...

Oskar coughs again.

“But if you’re willing to travel to Florida and Kansas, then Ashcove should be no problem.”

I spurt water over the table. “Um...sorry.”

Oskar’s eyes round, but he passes me some tissues.

“I guess I got a lemon chunk in my water or something.”

Daniela looks legitimately worried, like all the hockey players are going to start asphyxiating.

“Or maybe I just put it in the wrong pipe. Actually, that’s a sign that maybe I shouldn’t travel after all.” I do my best to look regretful. “The concussion might have rearranged my throat equipment.”

Sebastian buries his head in his hands.

“That probably didn’t happen,” Daniela says, giving a lengthy look that probably says I’m the least likely person she ever would have thought would end up on TV. Unscripted TV.

“I mean, does anyone care about Ashcove?” I shake my head dubiously. “Just a lot of hot chocolate shops and art galleries. Pretty boring.”

“It sounds adorable!” Ella clasps her hands together.

I shrug. “I mean it’s basically what you see if you turn on Hall—”

“No.” Sebastian rises. His body quivers. His eyes are wild. “This man is sick.”

“Gravely,” I say, nodding multiple times, because I’m nothing if not supportive of Sebastian. “Probably should check into the hospital after this meeting.”

“Because of the throat interior equipment redistribution thing?” Ella’s eyes round. “Will you be able to do tonight’s date at the French restaurant in that high rise overlooking all of Boston? Because we’ve booked a private room with a view and—”

“I can do that,” I say.

“The oyster course?” Ella asks. “Because those things are rather...slurpy. And significantly larger than lemon pulp.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure her.

Sebastian sighs. “And you’ll probably be fine for a seventy-minute drive to Ashcove.”

I bite my lip.

He’s right. If I can eat oysters, I can probably make the drive.

I nod reluctantly.

God, I didn’t mean for this to happen. Sebastian doesn’t want to go to Ashcove, and I want him to be happy. I inhale, but all the air has turned rancid, removed of everything good and replaced with worry.

Sebastian’s eyes turn sad and soft. “It’s okay.”

“Better than okay!” Ella exclaims. “It will be great. But I take your point about wanting to meet your future brides’ parents. We can have them flown up here. This will be the best Seeking Mr. Right: Christmas Edition ever!”