38. Hayden

CHAPTER 38

HAYDEN

"The cherry blossoms will be blooming soon." Darcy tips her face up to look at the trees as we walk home from dinner.

My mind slides to the lacy bra I pulled out of her bag back at the apartment. The embroidered flowers were tiny, delicate, and so pretty. I can't stop thinking about what she'd look like wearing it. What those flowers would feel like under my lips as I press soft kisses to the underside of her breasts, teasing her.

It's exactly the kind of thing I'd buy for her, if I were buying her lingerie.

Which I'm not.

But which I'm thinking about and have been thinking about all night.

What else is in that white bag in the apartment? A matching pair of panties? I get an image of her stretched out on my bed, smiling up at me, wearing the matching set as I decide where to touch first. Darcy in lingerie that she picked out, that she feels hot in—it's almost too much to bear. And then those shoes I've been glancing at all night.

I've never been a foot guy, but when Darcy wears sexy little fuck-me heels like that? Jesus Christ .

I need to get away from her before I do something stupid. I need to jerk off. I need to kiss her again. I need to get her out of my head, because I'm losing it.

She looks up at me expectantly, and I snap back to the present. "What?"

She laughs, green eyes lit up with the soft evening light. "I said I missed the cherry blossoms in Vancouver."

I exhale hard. "Yeah. They're… really pretty."

Her gaze lingers on me, eyebrows pinching with worry. "You're quiet tonight. Everything okay with hockey?"

"Everything's great." My grin is confident and flirty, but her eyes narrow like she sees right through me.

"Do you like playing offense?"

"I do," I admit. "I still don't feel like I'm where I need to be, though." Even with Miller's dumb trick to motivate me, something's not quite right. Discomfort lodges in my chest like a sharp kernel. At least it's gotten the media heat off me and Ward, though.

"Something changed around your game with New Jersey." Her head tilts as she looks up at me. "Your average assists went down, but you started scoring more goals."

My smile feels more genuine, because I love it when she lets her math brain out. I bet she knows the exact percentages, too, but she's holding back because she doesn't want to seem like a dork.

I like it when she's a dork, though. Darcy makes math look hot.

"Oh, yeah?" I arch a teasing eyebrow at her. "I don't think that's quite right."

Her eyes flare with determination. "Your assist rate dropped 29 percent, but your scoring average increased 32.4 percent. If you continue like this into next season, you'll be one of the top three scorers in the league. "

A satisfied grin stretches across my face. "Gotcha."

She rolls her eyes, smiling. "You tricked me."

"I love it when you talk math to me, baby."

She snorts. "You're supposed to be coaching me on how to pick guys up, not scare them away."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't talk stats with other guys," she says, like it's obvious. "It's boring and weird. I sound like a robot."

My gut hardens at the phrase other guys . "Talking about the things you love is hot, Darce. You should always talk about stats on dates."

The word dates tastes like sand in my mouth. Only dates with me , I'd love to add.

"You're different."

A string plucks in my chest.

She sighs. "Other guys don't want to hear about it."

"Other guys being Kit?" I ask before I can stop myself.

She shrugs, which is enough of an answer for me.

He never bragged about her having a stats degree. The few times I witnessed him introduce her to people at events, he'd call her his girlfriend, and that was it. Nothing about how she was an actuary or had a math degree or loved fantasy romance or was the reigning bowling champ among the three of us.

He didn't treat her like her own person.

"Hey." I stop walking and catch her wrist.

The sun is setting, and the golden hour light gleams off her pale-purple hair. Under my hand, the bracelet I gave her slides between us. She wears it every day. I feel a hit of possessive male pride, followed by the urge to buy her more jewelry.

"You should talk about stats on dates. If he thinks it's weird, he's an insecure loser, okay? Real men aren't threatened by a woman with a big brain who knows her way around a graphing calculator. "

Her eyes close and she laughs silently. Under my fingers, her skin is so soft. "I haven't used a graphing calculator in years."

"Yeah, but you could, couldn't you?"

She grins and rolls her eyes.

"Mhm. That's what I thought. You want my advice? Hold out for a guy who wants to TI-83 you all night long."

Her chest shakes with laughter. "What does that even mean?"

"I don't know." I shake my head and blow out a heavy breath like I'm turned on. I am, a little. "But man , it sounds hot."

"You're so weird," she says, starting to walk again.

I let her wrist go, following at a leisurely pace. "Your recommendations worked the other night at the game."

Her gaze whips to mine, eyes widening, before she shakes her head, brushing it off. "The team got lucky."

"It's not luck. That's what you always say about these things, right? It's not luck, it's a predicted circumstance. You were right, Darce. Your math checked out."

She bites her lip, and I silently hope that she changes her mind, forgetting all about what happened in the past. You're right, I'm an amazing genius , she says in my daydream.

A smile lifts on her mouth. "You still haven't told me what changed."

"Miller said if I didn't score a goal, he'd set you up with one of the rookies." Even now, protective feelings spike in my gut. "Not in a creepy way. He was going to encourage them to ask you out or talk to you at the bar."

Darcy's eyes spark with amusement. "Aren't they, like, twenty years old?"

"One's eighteen. "

She laughs. "Why would I ever go out with an eighteen-year-old? It would be like dating my little brother."

Relief throttles through me. "Yeah, I don't know why he thought that would work."

"I mean, it did work." She gives me a pointed look.

It seems stupid, now that I think about it. Why would Darcy be into some kid fresh out of high school? I force myself to shrug. My ears are going warm. "I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Hayden." She nudges my rib with her elbow. The way she says my name makes my blood feel warm and thick like honey. "You're too sweet sometimes, you know that?"

"Don't say that." My chest feels tight, heart pumping hard.

She gives me a funny look, but when she says things like that, in that loving tone, looking up at me like I'm more than just a pretty face and a good fuck, I feel hope.

It's dangerous.

She opens her mouth to say something but winces like she's in pain, looking down to her feet.

"What? What's wrong?"

"These shoes." She leans down to tug at the strap. "They hurt. How does Georgia wear shoes like this every day? She said something about tape on my toes, but we didn't have any at home." She starts walking again, but the pained expression stays put on her face.

Concern streaks through me and I put a hand on her wrist again, stopping her. "You can't walk, Darce. You're going to get blisters."

"I already have blisters. It's fine. We're two blocks from home."

I glare at her shoes. Stupid sexy shoes, causing her pain. I could call a rideshare, but it would be faster to walk, and my instincts are yelling at me to get Darcy home so she can take the heels off.

With my back facing her, I kneel. "Jump on."

"What? No, I'm fine."

"You're not. Your feet hurt." Seeing her in pain makes my chest hurt. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"What's the hard way?"

I stand and scoop her up, carrying her firefighter style down the sidewalk, and she shakes with laughter. People glance over, and an older woman smiles at us together.

"Okay, okay!" Darcy pats my chest. "I'll cooperate."

I set her on her feet and lower down, looping my hands beneath her thighs as she puts her arms around my neck. She's warm against me, and I can feel myself smiling as her hair tickles the back of my neck.

"Good girl."