He reached for her gloved hand and felt a wave of relief as she closed her fingers around his. “That must have been really frustrating.”
“It was. It is. I think it was frustrating for the team too, because they knew I wasn’t happy and that I wasn’t going to stay around once my free agency came about, but they needed me. I tend to be intense.”
Olivia looked over at him and shook her head. “Really? I would never have guessed that about you.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Fine. Yes. I am. But they traded me to Denver. The organization has expressed interest in me staying for the long term. They offered me a one-year extension beyond the rest of this contract, and I turned it down. This isn’t my dream situation, either.”
“Why not?” she asked as they came to a stop before a five-story building.
“My older brother’s here and, while I love him, it’s sometimes hard for him to forget he’s my peer, not my older sibling on the ice. And second, I don’t want this to interfere with negotiations with teams I want to play for.”
“This is me,” Olivia said, looking at the door briefly.
Damn. He didn’t want to stop talking with her just yet. “Do you want to grab a drink with me? Perhaps there’s a coffee shop?”
She shook her head and held up the bag she was carrying. “My dinner is likely already cold.”
“Right. Sorry.”
He should go. He should leave her to what was left of the evening.
“Do you want to come upstairs for a little while? Just to talk,” she added hastily.
The tense muscles in his stomach relaxed. “I’d like that.”
They didn’t speak as she led them up the elevator to her apartment. It was a riot of color. A vivid turquoise sofa in a plush fabric that looked like velvet. Contemporary artwork of vibrant circles hung in the open-plan living area. There was a deep green accent wall in the kitchen. It shouldn’t have matched, but somehow it all did.
“I like your place.”
Olivia smiled. “I share with my friend, Natalie. It’s her place and mostly her doing, but some of the art is mine.”
“Who’s the artist?”
“Oh, me. When I said some of it was mine, I meant I painted it.”
He looked from Olivia to the artwork and back again. “Wow. You’re really talented, Liv.”
She shrugged as if it was no big deal. “It relaxes me. At least, it used to. Do you mind if I eat?”
He shook his head. “No, please do.”
Anders watched as she moved around the kitchen. She had the same grace of movement as she had the night at the distillery. There was a lightness to it. Olivia grabbed a bottle of red wine off the counter and offered it and a corkscrew to him. “Would you mind opening that? I know it should probably be white, seeing I’m having fish, but it’s all I’ve got, and I think this conversation needs alcohol.”
He’d stuck with water at the restaurant with Karl, but Olivia was right, having a glass of red would make things feel less formal somehow. As they poured the wine and got settled at the small kitchen table, Anders thought about what he was going to say.
“I’ve been really torn, Liv. I’ve thought about you. A lot. Even before I knew I was being traded. You gave me plenty to think about. What a great leader you were. How you stayed calm under pressure after your staff were injured. How you turned the night around. How good you looked in that black dress and how you looked even better without it in bed. Even how honest you were with me. And how you trusted me so easily.”
She waved her fork as she finished chewing her mouthful. “Don’t elevate me to sainthood, Anders.”
He took a gulp of wine and then smiled at her comment. “I’m serious. But I’m also messed up. Before I left Sweden, I found my girlfriend in a compromising situation with someone I thought was a friend. I’m not as trusting as you are. And I really do need to focus. I become so single-minded that I don’t let anything get in my way. So, none of that adds up to good relationship material.”
“Are you trying to make up or scare me off? Because it’s positively charming to know you noticed more than my body the night we met. Yet I feel as though I’m not meant to be charmed.”
For a moment, Anders swirled his wine glass, watching as the red liquid made patterns up the side of his glass. “I’m not sure. A part of me thinks I should just go and leave you alone. But there’s a part of me that’s desperate to know . . .”
“To know what?”
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. If she wanted charming, he was sure he could figure out how to live up to it. He’d research it if he needed to. “To know how good we could be.”
Olivia blushed as she ate more of her dinner. “I think we know how good we can be,” she muttered.
Unable to resist, he ran his knuckle down her cheek and along her jaw. “I meant how good we could be out of bed, Liv. We know how good we are in it.”
She looked away, seemingly unable to meet his eyes. “I’d like that too.”
Shit. That was where he’d gone wrong. “We did this backwards.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most relationships start with meeting somehow. Bumping into someone in a bar. Being introduced by a friend. A dating app. Whatever. You go out, get to know someone. You like them enough, you sleep with them and hope you are as compatible in bed with them as you are out of it. We went straight to bed. To sex.”
Olivia’s fork clattered against her plate. “Sorry.” Her cheeks took on the pale flush of embarrassment.
He reached for both of her hands and, buoyed by his idea, he pulled her onto his lap. He loved the feel of her ass against his thighs. And the way she fit into his arms. “It’s okay. Don’t you see? We need to back up. We need to date, get to know each other.”
“You want to date me? I thought you needed to focus. To be intense. To get a mega-contract or whatever it is.”
“I do. I did. I still will. But let’s try it. Let’s see what happens if we date. You said it had been a while for you, that last year had been a hellish year. And I need to prove myself, to the Rush, and to you. I want to be that guy that can do both. Let’s figure this out together.”
Olivia’s features were filled with confusion.
“Just say yes, Liv. Take the first step with me.” He ran his hand along her waist, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breast, and he had to shake the image of how they’d filled his hands when she’d been naked.
She placed her hand on his cheek and he leaned into it. “Okay. But I have rules.”
Anders nodded. “Sure. I probably do too. What are yours?”
“It’s new, I know. Like we’ve barely spent a dozen hours together. It’s not even a relationship. And you are . . .you.”
“Wait, what does that mean?”
Olivia looked at him as if he were dumb. “Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Millionaire Good-Looking Hockey Player.”
“You think I’m good-looking?” He kissed her palm and tried to ignore the way his dick had currently joined the party. Olivia had a way of waking up that side of him with just her smile.
“You know you are good-looking. You don’t need me to inflate your ego.”