Gratifyingly, the color went out of Aubrey’s face, and Jackson made a poorly concealed noise of amusement at his friend’s misstep as Aubrey opened his mouth to backpedal. “Uh, I mean… taste is so personal,” he offered pathetically. “Just because something’s not really my style….”
Nate finally grinned, shark-sharp, putting him out of his misery.
Aubrey sagged. “Oh, you asshole. You had me going. Seriously, why do you have this?”
Thatwasa fair question, actually. “I don’t know. Haven’t gotten around to buying something else. Plus I don’t know if you can just recycle something that big.”
“I don’t think Goodwill would take it,” said Jackson.
Nate rolled his eyes for real this time and raised the bag of takeout. “Are we going to critique my interior-design choices or are we going to eat while the food’s hot?”
It turned into a nice evening. Jackson made a good buffer, keeping dinner from feeling like work or its opposite, a date. With the pressure off, Nate could relax.
But relaxing became a problem of its own when, on his third glass of wine, he found himself unable to tear his eyes from the smudge of sauce at the corner of Aubrey’s mouth. Aubrey had a nice mouth, plush pink lips that perpetually hid the hint of a smirk. It shouldn’t have been attractive, but then again, Nate’s libido had just woken up after a long nap, apparently.
Nate should tell him about the sauce, probably. But then he’d be admitting he was looking at Aubrey’s mouth. Out loud. He didn’t want to do that.
“You’ve got a little something,” Jackson said for him, motioning.
Nate expected Aubrey to reach for his napkin. He’d never shown anything less than perfect table manners, whatever other trespasses he committed.
But maybe the wine had loosened him up too, because he swiped at it with his thumb and then sucked it off.
A strangled noise attempted to escape Nate’s throat. He covered it with a cough and reached for his wineglass to wash down a phantom tickle.
Jackson glanced at him sidelong. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Nate rasped, blinking rapidly so he could pretend his eyes were watering.
WHEN THEwheels touched down in Winnipeg, the sky had already taken on a foreboding iron-blue hue. Aubrey shivered as the driver put his carry-on in the back of the SUV next to Nate’s. Winter here seemed to be a few strides ahead of Chicago.
“Hope you brought your snow boots,” the driver commented as he pulled into traffic. “Forecast calls for six inches by tomorrow morning.”
Aubrey automatically opened his mouth to make a joke, then second-guessed himself. He’d already crossed the line with Nate before, and that had gone badly.
On the other hand, if that didn’t call for a dick joke. And he didn’thaveto make it about Nate. “Well, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Asubtledick joke. Nate probably wouldn’t even get it.
Maybe he did, though—and maybe he was starting to relax, because he raised a hand to his mouth and stifled a fake-sounding cough.
So hewasn’tmade of stone. At least when the cameras weren’t rolling. But before Aubrey could prod him further, Nate dropped his hand, and just like that, he was all business. “We should look over the notes Jess sent. We’ve got points to cover for our interviews.”
Aubrey sighed a long-suffering drawn-out huff. “All work and no play makes Nate a dull boy. But fine. Hit me with it. Who’re the targets this time?”
Nate had stopped trying to avoid Aubrey and focused, at least when they were working. They finished their show prep in Aubrey’s hotel room, Nate sitting at the small table and taking notes on his tablet, Aubrey on the bed, spitballing as he stared up at the ceiling. He was in the middle of a breakdown of everything that was wrong with the New York Rangers’ defense when Nate made a surprised noise at the table.
Aubrey looked over. “What, you don’t agree? Wow, I’m so surprised.”
Nate spitted him with a look. “First of all, quality D-men don’t grow on trees. There’s nothing wrong with farming out the labor to Syracuse via trades from Tampa Bay—”
“It’s cute that you think that’s what’s happening.”
“—butactuallyI was looking at the weather report.” He held up his phone. “Weather system’s delayed. Maybe no snow. Or maybe we’ll get nailed tomorrow morning instead.”
“If only,” Aubrey murmured. “Uh, the Senators flew in today, right? We’re not going to end up with a canceled game?”
“This morning, I think. They’re on their Western Canada road trip. So we’re good there.” Nate’s face held an actual expression—was that amusement? The man should let himself smile more. Then again, Aubrey barely had a handle on his professionalism as it was. Who knew what would happen to his self-restraint if Nate started smiling regularly. “Although it’s almost too bad. A friend of mine recommended a small-plates restaurant downtown that I’ve been meaning to try out, but they’re closed for a private event tonight.”
