When I Fall in Love(38)
She laughed. “What is it about men that they have to have monuments built to them?”
Was she kidding? “It means you left your mark on something. Then people know you were there.”
She looked up at him, her hands coated in dough as she kneaded. “Silly man, people know you were there because of the people you’ve loved.”
He looked away. “Of course. But it would be nice to be in the Hall of Fame.”
She kneaded the bread into a golden ball. Set it to rest. “I am sure, Max, that you will be remembered by a host of people beyond your fans.”
“I just want to be strong, like my dad. Have his kind of faith. It wasn’t until he died that I really thought about eternity, but that moment told me I needed help. On earth and in heaven.”
“I think we all need that moment in our lives, right? I figured out I needed Jesus when I was pretty little, and I’ve been following Him since. It helped to hold on to my faith when Owen got hurt. What about your family? Do you have siblings?”
“I have a brother, fourteen years older than me. He’s a big fan. Has a wife and a baby girl.”
“Sweet.”
“Mix together the wine, oyster sauce, soy, water, sugar, and cornstarch with your favorite whisk.”
“On it, boss.” She found another bowl. “So . . . what will you do with your half of the ten thousand dollars?”
“My half? It’s all going to you, Grace.” He poured oil into a pan and added the vegetables.
She set down the blended liquid. “No, it’s not. You get equal share of our win.”
He shook his head.
“Hey, I know. You could use it to come back here and teach. Or better, put a down payment on that vacation house.”
He added the mushrooms, kept frying. Didn’t look at her.
“What did you mean by ‘everyone who gets to have dreams should reach for them’? Don’t you get to have dreams, Max?”
He reached for her sauce and poured it in, stirring as it thickened.
“Every time you talk about the future, you act as if all you have is hockey. But there is more to life than that.”
He turned off the heat, removed the pan from the burner. “This has to cool while the bread rises.”
But she wasn’t moving. She stood so close, her eyes holding a sort of hypnotic power over him. “Max, did someone hurt you once? Jace said that you never date. Why?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed. “Let’s get some lunch.” He turned, but she put a hand on his arm.
“Max—”
Fine. “I just don’t date, okay? I’m not interested in dating—ever. It gets in the way of hockey and my goals—”
“The Hall of Fame.”
“Yes, if you must know. This is all I am, all I have. And I’m not going to waste it falling in love, having a family—it would only make me weak.”
She stared at him just as he knew she would, with the half-pitying, half-horrified expression that every woman projected when a man said he didn’t want a family.
He sort of felt it too. But he couldn’t go there, so he softened his tone. “I’m not heartbroken, Grace. I’m just focused. God gave me one job to do on this planet, and that is to play hockey. And I’m doing that to the very best of my ability. I don’t have time for a serious relationship, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt or get the wrong impression. So . . . I don’t date. And I’m perfectly fine with that.”
She nodded, the sadness still in her eyes. “I get it, Max. I really get it.” She slipped her arm through his. “I’m your swim buddy, after all.”
He wanted to wince but instead took her hand on his arm. “Yeah.”
See, this competition was exactly what he needed to help him draw the lines around their relationship. Keep it inside the boundaries.
They walked out of the kitchen, and he unknotted his apron, threw it in the bin. He turned just as she was unknotting hers. She lifted it over her head, but it tangled in her hair bun.
“Let me help,” he said and reached for the mess. As his hands worked the apron over her head, the bun fell out, her hair silky and soft. She pulled it the rest of the way free and turned as he tossed the apron into the bin.
He couldn’t breathe. Not when she was looking at him with those beautiful blue eyes, when he could still feel her hair cascading through his fingers.
Oh, she was pretty—the kind of pretty that made a man just stop and drink it in. Want to spend every day with it. The sun had only darkened those adorable freckles.
Again, like on the plane, he had the strangest sense of falling.
“Ready? I’m dying for some ceviche,” she said, breaking the magic and heading for the door. Saving them both from disaster.