“I don’t like coffee. Not hot coffee, anyway.” Hudson turned me onto nitro coffee last year, and now my head feels like it will explode if I don’t start my day with it.
“You don’t drink coffee?” Hadley sounds affronted, her crystal blue eyes returning to me. “I can’t people until I have coffee. Hell, I can’t even think before coffee.” Her eyes slip over the front of me, taking in my pressed shirt, tie, and suit. Her expression gives nothing away, lacking any sign of intrigue or lust. “Why are you dressed up?”
“It’s our first home game of the year,” I say, trying to be inconspicuous as I take another fleeting look around the house, trying to discern any differences. “We have to dress up for the press—public speaking.” I wink like an asshole, unable to keep myself from flirting with her.
“I wonder if I’m supposed to dress up,” she asks, absently.
“It’s Saturday morning. Stop thinking about class.” I pull the fridge open and turn my attention in time to see an assault of foam balls hit me in the face and chest before I manage to close the door.
Hadley’s laughter echoes through the kitchen as she claps.
I grin at her reaction, though my heart’s racing from the surprise. “I should have suspected.”
She nods, her cheeks stamped with a smile. “That was so mild compared to your prank, but with the short window, it was the best I could do.”
“What is it?” I slowly open the door again, waiting for a second assault, but it doesn’t come. A wooden board is positioned on the second shelf of the fridge, with a string attached that leads to the doors. I pick the contraption up, inspecting the minimal bungee and rubber bands.
“It’s a trip wire,” she says, factually.
“How’d you know how to make that?”
“A healthy fascination of automatons paired with a lot of free time growing up.”
I don’t know what in the hell an automaton is, so I store the word to memory to look up later, realizing too late that I’m adding clever to the list of traits I find desirable in a woman. “What did you send to your brother-in-law? What was the prank?”
Hadley’s cheeks grow pink as she reaches for her coffee. “You don’t want to know.”
She has no idea how much I wish that were true. Her attention shifts back to her computer. It’s not dismissive, she just seems capable of moving on with her morning while my thoughts remain obsessively focused on her.
I grab a nitro coffee and ignore the reminder that I should leave, and instead sit next to her at the table. Her gaze returns to mine, curiosity and a hint of confusion have her angling her head and furrowing her brow just slightly.
“Are you coming to the game tonight?” It’s not my smoothest line, but it’s the first question that pops into my head.
Hadley takes another drink of her coffee, before holding it at chest level, drawing my gaze there for half a second. Warning bells explode in my head and have me looking at my coffee as I twist off the cap.
“I’m going to be here, writing a speech and planning my next move.” She sets her coffee down and gently smirks.
The doorbell rings and Hadley eyes the door, unmoving. “I’m going to let you answer that.”
The memory of Hadley hitting the stairs has me flinching. “I promise, that won’t happen again.” I swing out of my chair and cross the room. Outside, two plastic bags are filled with food, waiting for me on the front porch. A blue car honks as it drives away.
I grab the bags and kick the door closed. Hadley remains in her seat, watching me, though she pretends not to.
I absently wonder if she might be more interested than she’s letting on. It’s a dangerous hope—a stupid hope—but a hope, nonetheless.
Rich and savory aromas follow me back to the table where I set the food down.
“Hungry?” I ask her.
Her gaze turns from discreet to questioning. “What?”
I nod at the food. “I really am sorry for last night. I shouldn’t have taken things so far. I want to apologize—more than just words. I feel like such an asshat for how things played out.”
“So … this is a … peace treaty?”
“It can be if that’s what you want it to be.”
She stares at me, weighing my words as though testing their authenticity.