Paint The Ice

Chapter 3

"Hi." I try to speak this time since my wave earlier didn't earn anything from him.

To the sound of my voice, Tommy looks up to meet my eyes. He doesn't seem startled or anything. He's just enjoying his meal. Honestly, he looks like such an angel but is he?

I'm surprised he speaks. Maybe he's in a better mood now. Food does that. "My name is Riley. What's your name?" I ask even though I already know it.

"Tommy." His little voice says and he grabs something from his tray and shoves it in his mouth before removing it. "Orange?" He lunges toward and shoves his hand to my chest.

It's in fact an orange. A wet one. He's offering it to me.

"No thanks. It looks so good though."For anyone who likes oranges covered in saliva, tomato sauce and cheese. The good thing is that he's sharing and it didn't stain my clothes.

The next time I see Asher, he isn't wearing shoulder pads, gloves or skates. He's put together out of hockey gear. Dark hair no longer sticking to his face, it's pushed back where his hairline becomes visible to the eyesight. Face no longer flushed, the bruise is still prominent on his cheek and his square jawline and high cheekbones makes him good looking.

White shirt with long sleeves with a few buttons left undone, he's wearing a pair of dark jeans that latches over his lower half. There are a couple silver rings on each finger of his. Asher fills the kitchen with the smell of deodorant and something citrusy? I'm not sure what what that scent is but it's divine. Masculine. Strong. Alluring.

"How do I look?" Asher asks, raking a hand through his hair.

For a moment, I think he's asking Tommy but when his eyes meet mine I realize the question is directed towards me. Oh.

"You don't own a mirror?" I ask, amusement dancing in my eyes.

"No. So tell me. Is the shirt too much?" He gestures to the collar and the button he left undone.

I can't help but think he knows he's attractive and is just full of himself. "You want to be showered in my compliments, don't you?"

The look on his face tells me that's not exactly the case. Oh. He really meant the shirt. Okay.

"Not really. Simple question. Simple answer." He tells me. "But it doesn't hurt to stroke my ego a little." He wears a stupid smile when he says it.

"Fine. You look good. The shirt is nice. Not weather appropriate but fine nonetheless. It's probably not that cold to you anyway. "I mean the guy is on the ice every single day. "But if you're looking to grab attention, you will in a shirt like that and the whole thing you got going on there with your face. You're set."

Asher's eyebrows shoot up. "What's going on with my face?"

"Bruised cheek." I point out.

He doesn't ask what I mean l. Instead, the corners of his mouth twitches. "Thanks, I guess. I'll take it."

I can't help myself so I say. "Good. Only compliment you'll ever hear."

Asher doesn't mind it, he goes on to say. "Alright. You shouldn't have much to do."

My ears are collecting the data in real time.

"When he's done eating he just needs to get to bed. Get him to bed before nine." Asher says, "That's About it, I think. Here's my number if you need anything." He scribbles on a piece of paper like a dad leaving for work. It's comical since he's roughly around twenty or twenty-one and it's the twenty-first century. Who writes numbers on pages anymore?

Then he makes a beeline and lowers his face to Tommy's forehead, planting a kiss there. "Be good, okay? You remember Riley? She's your babysitter."

Tommy nods with the biggest grin I've ever seen. "I'll be good. You look good Daddy!"

"Why, thank you bud." Asher smiles a genuine smile and ruffles Tommy's hair.

They're so sweet it makes me want to throw up.

Footsteps echo outside the kitchen door.

"Riley! Are you in here?" Someone calls out. It's Cole.

"Yeah I'm in here." I answer.

Cole opens the door and peeps inside, smiling when he sees me. "Hi there sis. Glad you're here. See you later."

"Bye Cole."

He ducks out of the room before he can get an object thrown at him like he deserves and Asher follows behind him. But he doesn't leave completely without saying, "Good luck. You're going to need it."

If I hear another 'good luck' I'm going to lose it.

Asher sounds like he's trying to scare me though.

When I hear the front door shut, I turn my attention to the three year old who shoves a slice of Mandarin orange into his mouth. I mean, he's eating better than me. All I've had was some popcorn. Tommy senses that he's being watched and he lifts his head, meeting my eyes.

"Well. looks like it's just you and me kid."

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