Page 29 of Taking Sides

“I did like you.” Even in the dark I can see his face is turning pink. “I’m sorry I gave you the wrong idea.”

“Did like me or do?”

His lips curve into a small, timid smile. “Do.”

He still isn’t saying much, but I’m hanging on his every word, processing and adjusting everything I thought I knew.

“Whitney?”

He has a nice voice—low with a hint of gravel. It’s both comforting and sexy. I think I could listen to him read my grocery list and be enthralled. Complete with video and I’d never need porn again.

I blink out of my haze.

“Do you have plans tonight?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“Do you want to hang out?”

A nod. “More than anything.”

I let out a small laugh. “More than anything, huh?”

“Except maybe winning the Stanley Cup, but it’s close.”

“I can live with that. Should we get a drink or something?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” His gaze drops to my mouth again.

Conrad rode to the game with August, so I drive us. And since there aren’t a lot of options at this time of night (and by unspoken agreement neither of us suggests MVP), I offer up my house.

“This is it,” I say as I lead him through the front door. I flip on a lamp in the living room and then turn to watch as Conrad steps inside.

He didn’t say much on the ride to my house. Which was fine because my head was still spinning from that kiss. I’m half convinced it didn’t really happen. If I took a puck to the head during the game tonight, I don’t want to wake up from my concussion dream.

Possible dream Conrad’s gaze roams over my small space. It’s a three-bedroom Craftsman-style home. Victor calls it a tuna can. I think it’s cute and cozy.

“I haven’t been home much this week,” I say, moving to the coffee table and stacking the papers and books into a tidy pile. I wasn’t expecting company, and it shows.

I face him, my breaths coming a little too quickly. He’s here, and I’m still in shock.

“I like it,” he says finally. Short and succinct.

“Thanks.” I move to the kitchen, mostly for something to do. “Do you want something to drink?”

I wince when I see the contents. “I have Dr Pepper, cheap white wine, or orange juice that might be past it’s ‘best by’ date.”

A hint of a smile pulls at his lips. “It’s been a long time since I had a Dr Pepper.”

I grab two and take them to where he lingers in the entryway, almost like he’s still considering calling off this redo date. “Okay, but if you hate it then you can never tell me.”

His lips quirk with another tiny smile. I offer him one of the cold cans. His fingers wrap around it, pinky brushing mine. I pop the top of my Dr Pepper. He does the same. There’s something extremely erotic about watching a man open a can of soda. Or maybe it’s just Conrad. Yeah, definitely the latter.

I wait for him to bring it to his mouth and take a sip. It really shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, seeing his lips press to the can and then his throat work with a swallow. That kiss has my body primed for more.

“Well?” I ask, taking a sip of my own soda.

It looks like he’s fighting a grimace. His voice is strained when he says, “I love it.”