He muttered, “Touch isn’t everything.” Although kissing Rusty had been more intense than any touch Cross could remember with Willow. He thought about sitting on the couch beside Rusty, and the way they’d drifted together, shoulders bumping, how easy that was. By the end, hanging out with Willow had never been that simple.
“You and she didn’t talk and laugh together, didn’t seem close. And yeah, silence can be comfortable. But you didn’t seem to have a lot in common. Whenever you got going with hockey minutia, her eyes glazed over.”
“She was a fan. I met her at a teammate’s party.”
“RJ, I hate to break it to you, but you’re more focused on hockey than any casual fan is likely to enjoy. Maybe try dating one of the women’s hockey team next.”
“You think I should date a player?” He kept the gender carefully neutral.
“Ah, probably not. A women’s leaguer would surely hate the fact that you play for millions and she plays for thousands. Maybe someone who loves the game a whole lot, though. Or— new option— someone you’re attracted to enough that they can tempt you away from hockey to do other things together. You really need to broaden your interests.”
“I do other things,” he protested.
“Like what?”
“Like I just got done watching a movie. And playing video games.”
“Hockey video games?”
Cross sighed. “Can I plead the Fifth? I painted a guy’s car recently. That was fun.” Although mainly because he was doing the work with friends, not for its own sake. He was a bit too perfectionist to love spraying paint over rust.
“A hockey guy’s car?”
He couldn’t stop a growl in his throat. “Okay, you made your point.”
“I worry about you. You’re thirty and you’re wildly successful at one thing—”
“Thank you,” he put in.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not minimizing what you’ve accomplished. Hopefully you’ll play another five years, even ten, but it can’t be forever. Then you’ll have this long life ahead of you and what’s going to fill it? I want to see you happy.”
“You’re thirty-four and single. Pot-calling-kettle.”
“Yeah, but I date. I dance and cross-country ski, and I have friends in musical theater. I fly to concerts for bands I like. You could take away my LaCroix Technology job, and I’d still have a life. What about you, if you take away hockey?”
“I might coach.” He’d been thinking about it more recently, since he realized how much he enjoyed working with Scott’s high school kids last summer.
“So more hockey.” But Marie laughed. “As long as you’re thinking ahead. Watch more movies, paint more cars, try some new stuff.”
“I rode horses with Edzie at his ranch.” He’d been surprised how much he enjoyed that.
“See? That’s something fun and different. You could buy a horse, mix with a different crowd.”
He wondered if Rusty would like a horse. Rusty’d been raised on a farm and worked the ranch over the summer, seemed very comfortable and competent in the saddle. When he arrived on the coast at the end of summer, he’d been tanned, his blond hair sun-bleached. He clearly liked the outdoors. Cross wondered what kind of horse Rusty would like…
You can’t just buy a friend a horse.
Cross cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll put that in the ideas basket. Oh, and I was wondering…”Am I going to ask this? Yeah, I think I am.“Have you ever dated someone a lot younger than you?”
“Sure. Yuri was twenty-two. He was a ton of fun, but at some point I wanted a guy who could be serious and not just all about sex and parties, you know? He was still in his fuckathon days.” Marie tilted her head. “Did you go out with a younger woman? How much younger?”
“Does it matter?” He realized he’d confirmed half of her guess. “It’s about their personality, right?” Rusty was plenty serious. If anything, Cross wanted to lighten his load, make him smile more. “It’s just hard sometimes, having all the money and the success and… like a power imbalance, right? And then age? Perhaps I should date someone who’s forty, to even that out.”
“Perhaps you should date whoever appeals to you.” Marie spoke softly. “You’re a good guy. I can’t ever see you using your money against someone. Hell, I know you still send funds to Willow’s favorite charity even though you haven’t been together for three years.”
He frowned. “How’d you know that?” He’d felt guilty about the breakup even though it was Willow’s idea. His lack of passion and enthusiasm when they were in bed wasn’t her fault, and he clearly hadn’t hidden it well enough. Plus feeding kids overseas was a good cause.
“Our accountants do your taxes, little bro. You approved my oversight.”
