Page 5 of The Trade Up
I’m failing at blocking out that thought, however, which makes me feel like an asshole. I can’t help how attracted I am to her—I mean, besides the fact that she’s gorgeous with that light brown hair, those blue-green kaleidoscope eyes, and her killer legs…she loves Star Trek as much as I do.
But, I’m confident she did not agree to show me one of her favorite places in Seattle because she wants to sleep with me.
“The viewing area is right there,” she says as she points to a grassy patch along the sidewalk. “We just need to find a place to park.”
I glance over where she’s pointing, surprised the viewing area is right off the road and that there are still people milling around, even at this time of night.
She eases her car into an open parking spot on the side of the road. “You really don’t need a jacket?” She asks as she unbuckles her seatbelt and zips up her jacket over the leggings and sweatshirt she changed into before we left the diner.
“I run hot,” I say. “I grew up in Canada, so this isn’t even close to cold.” As we get out of the car and walk the block back to the park, I tell her a little bit about Toronto.
“It’s a great city—” My jaw falls open when we pass the last house leading up to the park, and Seattle’s skyline comes into view. It’s not only the buildings glowing in the darkness, or the Space Needle with its twinkling lights in the shape of a white Christmas tree, or the bay spreading out at the edge of the city—it’s the expanse of darkness on the other side that allows the skyline to shine in a way that leaves me almost speechless. “Wow…this view is spectacular.”
“You should see it at sunset,” Ashleigh says as we approach the railings at the edge of the viewing area. She steps slightly in front of me, and points to the right of the buildings where I’d noticed the darkness. “That’s Mt. Rainier,” she says, and I dip my head lower so I can see exactly where she’s pointing. But that’s a big mistake because the air is filled with the scent of her hair, and the tropical smell has me imagining us on a beach with very little clothing on. I need to get a hold of myself, because my body is reacting to hers in unexpected ways. “And at sunset, the sky gets an orangey purple hue and the white cap of the mountain glows against it, and it’s just stunning beyond the lights of the city.”
“I’d like to see that someday,” I say and sense her stiffen, as if she hadn’t realized I was this close. I stand up fully so I’m not crowding her, but I don’t step away.
“You should come back tomorrow at sunset,” she says, her voice low.
“Can’t. I’ll be working.” Part of me wants to tell her what my job is, but the other part wants to know that she could be interested in me for something besides the fact that I’m a professional hockey player.
I’m probably jaded because I’ve dated so many women who were in it for the money or the fame, but it becomes real hard to know if someone likes you for you, or if it’s because of what you could give them with a professional athlete’s salary.
“I guess you’ll have to visit Seattle again another time.”
“Will you be my tour guide again if I do?”
I watch her throat bob as I stare down at her, unable to tear my eyes away despite the amazing view in front of me. “Sure.” The word is not even remotely convincing, so I use the tip of my pointer finger to gently turn her face so she’s looking up at me over her shoulder.
“That sounded like a big ol’ lie. I thought we were friends.”
“Yousaid we were friends. I never agreed to that.” Her smile is weak, but her voice is flirtatious. “And I might be moving soon.”
“Oh yeah? Where are you headed?”
“I’m going to grad school.”
“Mid-year?”
“Maybe. I was supposed to start this fall, but I had a family emergency.”
I have so many questions. “Everything okay?”
She sighs and turns her head forward, looking out at the city. “Yeah, it is now. My uncle has been like a father to me, and he was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes last spring. He was really sick, and getting his diet under control and his medications working right were a top priority. There was no one else to help take care of him but me. So I deferred.”
“He’s doing better now, though?”
“Yeah, he’s stabilized. And the diner made it through the summer even when he couldn’t be there, but now he’s mostly back to work.”
“He owns the diner where you work?”
“I don’t work there,” she says.
I can’t help but laugh. “All evidence to the contrary.”
“I just came in tonight because your waitress’s kid got sick and she had to go home. She texted me in a panic so I filled in for her. Usually when I’m there, I’m helping my uncle with payroll, scheduling, supply orders—that type of thing. But I used to waitress there in high school and summers during college.”
“I’m glad you were there tonight,” I say, right as a shiver runs through her. “You cold?”
