The bartender looked up, his interest piqued. “Do I look like an idiot? I run a bar in New York. Of course I’m a Rangers fan.”
“Good. Then you can tell me if you’ve seen one today.”
The man studied her for a moment, and then smiled. “Any particular reason why a pretty thing like you is looking for one?”
She shot him her most charming smile. “He made me feel-better eggs this morning, and I just wanted to tell him thank you.”
The old man laughed and pointed to the partition that separated the bar from the restaurant in the back. “He’s in his usual spot. Back table to the left.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and made her way through the bar into the restaurant. She found Henrik, leaned back in a chair, his feet stretched out in the seat across from him. He absently watched the TV on the wall and circled his fork in the empty plate of something she was positive wasn’t on his new training diet. He still wore his workout clothes, a Rangers hoodie and a black pair of sweatpants.
The boy could stop traffic wearing a potato sack. She hated that he could manage to look so handsome without trying. He probably picked those clothes up from his floor that morning, but sadly, no amount of wrinkles could deter your attention from those vibrant, blue eyes that today looked grumpy and misguided. He was catnip for ovaries.
“Henrik,” she whispered, catching his attention.
He immediately sat up, bringing his feet down. “Hey.”
It was obvious he hadn’t expected to find her there, and his surprise made her oddly sad for him. Or maybe it was guilt she felt for yelling at him the other night, and divulging her best friend’s secret. Either way, she needed to make it right.
“I didn’t mean to bother you, it’s just—I wanted to say thank you for the eggs.”
He half smiled, and she was ashamed by the giddy feeling that crept into her chest. “Drew told you?”
“He almost burned the place down. He really didn’t have much of a choice.”
His smile grew, and it took a lot of effort for her not to return it. She wanted to hate him—in fact, she needed to hate him. It was the only emotion she was capable of anymore, and she couldn’t let it go. “I also wanted to apologize for screaming at you the other night, and outing Drew like that. That was definitely wrong. I’ve slept since then, and I realize I may have been a little harsh.”
“You were a little harsh.” He scooted to the edge of his seat. She flinched, annoyed that such a simple gesture set her on edge. “But you were right. I wasn’t exactly helpful, or welcoming. At least, not in the way I should have been.”
“It’s not your fault,” she admitted, looking away from him as her embarrassment finally flooded her cheeks. “I mean, what were you supposed to think after the last time I showed up at your door?”
“About that…” he started, but she threw up her hands.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She could barely think about it without her face turning twenty different shades of red, and then her stomach turning to knots.
“Leila—”
“Not yet,” she amended, knowing how stubborn he could be. She wasn’t ready to talk about it, or stop pretending it was just some ridiculous fantasy she’d conjured up after downing a half bottle of wine. “I just wanted to thank you for the breakfast I didn’t get to enjoy, and apologize for the way I acted the other night.”
He blew out a breath, causing his lush lips to round into a pout that almost made her change her mind. “Okay. Well, you’re welcome for the eggs, and I deserved the criticism, so your apology isn’t necessary.”
He was studying her, and she could feel it. It wasn’t sexual, nothing like it had been at his apartment the night she showed up. No, this time he evaluated more than just her physical features, and that made her nervous. “How about a truce?” he offered, flashing his best megawatt smile. “Come to my game tonight. I’ll get you a ticket. You can sit with Drew.”
She immediately panicked. “That’s a bad idea.”
This was her first time out of the apartment, and she still felt a nagging urge to turn and run back. Something about being outside, in the public view, made it all seem so real. It caused an empty ache deep in her core. Not to mention the physical toll it seemed to take on her body. The doctor had warned her to be careful and not push her limits. She didn’t want to black out and wake up alone and scared again.
“I’d like it if you came,” he said softly, leaning forward to catch her line of vision. She winced, knowing he’d noticed the tormented looked etched across her face. “Just think about it.”
She nodded, trying to calm her fears. “Well, first I need to go buy some clothes. Drew’s going to kick me out if I keep stealing his stuff.”
“Where are your clothes, Leila? Why did you show up at my place freezing to death in those shorts and my jersey if it wasn’t to drive me crazy?”
She gave him a pointed look. She’d told him she didn’t want to talk about it. She needed time to get her own thoughts and emotions in order before sharing them with anyone else.
He merely rolled his eyes at her, though. “Fine,” he conceded. “Go buy some clothes. Come to my game.”
The confidence in his voice made her back snap straight. Always so self-assured. “You say it like I’d be there to watch you. You do remember my brother is on your team too. If I go tonight, it will be to watch him.”
He scoffed, shooting her that familiar, superior grin. “When have you ever been to a game to see Austin?”
She might have laughed if it weren’t so close to the truth. She wrinkled her nose at him as if to say what he suggested was disgusting. He only laughed.
Cocky bastard.
“It’s nice to know I didn’t permanently scar your ego,” she spat.
She remembered why it was so difficult to be around him, and why she avoided it for so long. Henrik somehow managed to be irresistible even when he was purposefully being a jerk. It was an intricate part of his allure. He could always make you want what you knew you could never actually obtain.
He grinned at her and stood, and she felt her breath hitch. He was tall, the memory of him looming over her, his lips brushing against her skin came like a flash, and she had to turn away from him to regain her composure. “Come on, I’ll walk with you,” he told her, oblivious to her reaction. “I need to head back to the Garden anyway.”
She merely nodded, stumbling away from him like a newborn foal. She followed far behind him as he went to pay his bill, avoiding the temptation to get too close, afraid of the memories it might elicit. When he finished, she hurried to the door, eager for some fresh air, and pushed it open. She flinched when the wind rushed in, stinging every inch of exposed skin.
“And add a jacket to that list.”
She peeked over her shoulder just in time to watch him slip his sweatshirt off, revealing the sleeve of tattoos down his left arm beneath his t-shirt. He’d always been so clean cut, and she was admittedly curious as to what inspired the design she’d been so desperate to get a closer look at that night. She practically had to force herself to look away so she wouldn’t stare.
“No, Henrik,” she fumbled, moving further out onto the street. “I’m fine. I’ll buy a jacket first.”
He pushed the sweatshirt toward her, cupping his hands around hers with authority. “Then just appease me until you do,” he instructed, his voice rough, but light. “You know how much I like it when you wear my clothes.”
Even with the teasing in his voice, she wanted to refuse. He wasn’t allowed to be nice to her. She couldn’t hate him if he was nice. “Thank you,” she stated begrudgingly. “I’ll give it back to you.”
“No need. I have about a hundred of those. Just add it to your collection.”
She shook her head, laughing now. “Just because that jersey has your number on it, doesn’t mean it belongs to you.”
He shrugged, smirking sideways at her. “Same difference.”