“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“So… Surprise!” He holds up a glass container.
I stare at it, unable to make out the contents. It looks like… bread or cake or something? When I slide my gaze to his eyes he says, "I couldn't bear the thought of you without a decent meal on Christmas morning so I brought you a couple of my grams' world-famous cinnamon waffles."
“Waffles?” I repeat dumbly, and my hands move to my hair. Do I look okay? Wait, why do I care? I let my hands drop to my sides. “You brought me breakfast?”
Conner nods and I step out into the hall to join him, the door to my office closing with a soft click behind me. “Yeah. I saw the way you kinda pass out as soon as you get home from a shift. And I also saw the pathetic contents of your fridge.”
“Ouch. That’s harsh,” I mutter and he gives me a flash of a smile.
“I get it, you’re busy.” He holds up the container again and pulls a small one from the pocket of that puffy yellow coat of his. “Homemade blueberry syrup. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this.”
I look at the syrup in the second container, and then I glance down the hall where the nurse's station for the psychiatric ward is located. No one is there at the moment, thankfully. The last thing I need is an audience for Conner's Uber Eats impression. Crown prince of hockey bringing me breakfast? That would set the rumor mill on fire so intensely it would burn the hospital to the ground. “Apparently Heather has told everyone I cheated on Beckett with you. Hysterical he gets to be the victim in this suddenly, and it’s my fault.”
"Huh." Conner looks slightly confused, his thick eyebrows furrowed kind of adorably, I hate to admit. He looks sleepy and like he didn't even brush his hair, which is sticking up a little on the left side, but it's also adorable. And when it hits me that he went out of his way at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day to bring me something to eat… well, that is beyond adorable. It's downright thoughtful that Conner Garrison is taking care of me. "Well, then you should rethink letting me go to the party with you."
“Why? How would that help?”
“By the time the party rolls around I won’t be a Baron anymore so people will be throwing you fleeting looks of sympathy that you hitched yourself to a faulty wagon.” His strong, stubble-covered jaw flexes as he probably pictures it in his head. “They’ll feel sorry for you instead of judging you.”
I stare at him. “Is your entire self-worth attached to your skates? Because it seems that way, Conner, and that’s something you should look into.”
“It’s not my self-worth,” he replies, kind of annoyed. He feels attacked, I get it, but kid gloves won’t work on him.
"Okay, so stop acting like it is then," I counter, and he frowns at me. "You think people are really going to be like 'Oh poor Mac, she's stuck with a guy who still makes millions, is the eldest son of the most respected family in town, has a body that was built for sex, and a personality that could charm the venom out of a snake. But he isn't an NHL player anymore so none of that matters. She's better off alone."
We stare at each other under the fluorescent lights in the stark mint-green corridor. His expression hardens, muscle by muscle tightening in his face, and the look in those pretty eyes with all the warm colors swirled together turns cold.
“Here.” He hands me the two containers. “If you don’t like the waffles, I also brought a dozen donuts from Dick’s for the rest of the staff. Just snag one of those.”
“You brought everyone donuts? That’s…” I can’t find the word.
He shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning his attention to the nurse's station where one of them has returned and is smiling brightly, lifting the box of donuts up off the counter. "Dick's was opened when I drove by and I just thought that the people who gave up their Christmases to be here, helping others, deserved it. Anyway, have a good Christmas, Mac. Sorry to bother you."
He starts to turn away from me, and I instantly reach out. My hands are holding the containers, which are still warm, even the one with syrup. He literally rushed over to give me these while they were still warm. Oh, my heart… "I'm sorry. You are being really great and I'm being a bitch."
He stops trying to walk away and glances at me over his shoulder. “Bitch is a little harsh. And I’m being a bit of a grump now too. I don’t like being psycho-analyzed.”
"Nobody does," I reply. He looks truly humbled and a little bit lost. I resist the urge to reach out and hug him, mostly because I can't figure out how to do it with the food containers in my hands. "Have you been doing what I suggested? Taking it day by day and not catastrophizing?"
“Mostly.” He nods and dips his head a little as he steps closer. “I’ve been working out, following my regular training routine, eating right, studying some old games to see where I can improve, and studying other teams.”
“And emotionally, what are you doing to fight off the negativity?” I ask gently because this is me doing exactly what he seems to hate, my job. On him.
"I've been hanging with my cousins," he says. "Hard to be in a bad mood with them around. Oh, and I've been sending inappropriate drunken voice messages to this hot woman I know. That's been fun."
Our eyes lock. His mouth turns upward a little at the edges, sheepishly. I have to look away, a small smile of my own growing on my face. “Yeah… about that… I wanted to clear something up there.”
“No need to explain yourself,” he says quickly and steps back, putting more space than I’d like between us. “I overheard you talking to Tenley in your bedroom before I left with Callie that day. You changed your mind about what we were about to do. You have every right. I don’t need an explanation.”
“You overheard me trying to convince myself, out loud, that something so incredibly out-of-character was wrong. Even though I wanted it so bad I was literally shaking.”
“It?”
I glance down the hall. Now there are two nurses at the station but both seem so distracted by the donuts they aren’t watching us. I turn my gaze back to him. “You. I wanted you so bad I was shaking. And I panicked so I lied to your cousin because I didn’t want to admit the truth to her or myself.”
He takes a step closer again. Damn, he's gorgeous. His strong, stubbled jaw relaxes a little, and his eyes hold a cocky gleam that is damn hot. "So you can psycho-analyze yourself too, huh?"
I shrug. “That wasn’t exactly hard to unravel. I mean, no offense Conner, but your self-esteem isn’t very good if you think there is a woman on the planet that would have turned you down in that situation. And FYI, that has nothing to do with what league you play in.”
My heart is hammering in my chest and I can't quite catch my breath. I'm also keenly aware that both the nurses and now an orderly are chomping away on donuts at the end of the hall and have finally noticed us. They're leaning on the nurse's station, staring at us.
Conner doesn’t seem to notice though. He stares at only me, his gaze heavy, and it makes my heart beat even harder. “I brought these waffles over as an excuse to see you so I could figure out a way to apologize for that message. I was…”
“Blunt. Direct. Crude.” I swallow and lock eyes with him.
He blinks and then he gives me this smile that almost makes my legs forget to support my body. I want to collapse from the desire that is suddenly pumping through me. “And you liked it?”
“Loved it.”
“When do you get off work?”
“Right now.”
“Maybe I can follow you home and give you that thing I mentioned in the message?”
The fuck of your life.
His words from that message, all rough and slurred and full of confidence, fill my brain. He steps closer, his hand reaches up, and he gently holds my hip.
“Are you… is this because people are watching?” I whisper as he leans even closer and now I can feel his breath on my cheek.
“All I see is you, princess,” he replies, his breath dancing across my cheek as he moves his lips there, kissing me lightly before whispering, “So?”
I can’t believe I’m saying this but I am. “Let’s go.”
He pulls me into his side with an arm around my shoulders that feels both possessive and casual at the same time. We walk like that right past the nurses station and down the hall, past the main reception desk where we are met with wide eyes from the guy working there, who clearly recognizes Conner.
Once we walk through the automated doors and the cool morning slaps me in the face, I wait. For the wake-up call. For the cold light of day to force some sense into my brain. But it doesn’t make me change my mind. I keep walking right to my car and after I slide in and put the food on the seat in front of me, I let him lean in, kiss me gently on the lips, and when he says, “I’ll follow you there” I don’t say no.