The One Timer: a One Night Stand Hockey Rom-Com by Stephanie Queen

Author:Stephanie Queen [Queen, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

CHASE

As soon as the limo drives into the alley behind the townhouse and then into the courtyard, I open the door and reach out my hand to help Gran from the back seat. The driver would do it, but not as carefully as I will.

She chuckles. “You know I’m not frail—not yet anyway, honey.” I love it when she calls me honey. It feels like she’s covering me in real honey—sweet and smooth and soothing.

I help Gran from the car, and Em follows. She waits while I walk Gran to the back door, giving her a big hug. She exchanges a wave with Em, and they promise to see each other tomorrow. That sends a surge of excitement pepping up my previously tired step. Tomorrow.

After seeing Gran inside, the limo pulls away, and I jog back to Em. She’s standing in front of the carriage house, otherwise known as the garage.

“I thought you were driving me, but I don’t see a car.”

I turn her around, guide her inside the door, then turn on the light. Two cars sit, shining under the light. “The cool car is mine.”

She looks between them. “I give up. Either car couldn’t be cooler if they were made of ice.”

“An ice car—now, that would be cool. We’ll have to consider that next time we have an ice sculpture commissioned⁠—”

She snaps her eyes to mine. “Next time you have an ice sculpture commissioned? Really?” She shakes her head and takes a step back from me like I’m talking about murder for hire instead of hiring an ice sculptor.

“Is there a problem? You okay?” The flash of her gold eyes triggers memories of all her passion from our night together. But I have a feeling this passion is less about wanting to jump my bones and more about wanting to smack me. “What’s the matter? Did you once witness a tragic ice sculpting accident?”

She snorts and suppresses a laugh. “No, of course not. Everyone I know has ice sculptures done at least twice a year. Who wouldn’t? Wait, let me see… That would be everyone I’ve ever known. Except you.” She spreads her arm towards the two cars. “These cars are worth more than everything I own, times a million. And who commissions ice sculptures like it’s the same as taking a photo?” She’s shaking her head like she’s trying to reconcile an alien sighting.

“Sorry—I didn’t mean to sound so bougie. I’m an ass sometimes, but only when I come home to Beacon Hill. It’s like another world for sure. But it’s my world—and harmless.” I flash her a smile meant to disarm her, but she goes introspective.

She mumbles something like, “There’s nothing harmless about you,” as she turns to the two cars. “Of course, the Porsche 911 is yours. And the big Mercedes belongs to your grandmother.”

“You sure about that?” I tease.

She smirks. “Mrs. W is quite a sporting old gal, but red isn’t her color.”

I slip the keys from my pocket and open the Porsche’s door for her.

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