Chapter 13
Iwore a sweater, but I was still shivering. Jeremy sat on my non-bruised side, and he gave me his down vest, and then pressed an arm around me to keep me warm. We cheered for the Wilder River Lumberjacks for all we were worth. Jeremy’s Pepsi sloshed out of the top of the cup during a big goal. It landed on my jeans. He took off his sweatshirt and used the sleeve to mop my pant-leg dry.
Underneath his sweatshirt, his t-shirt stretched across his muscles.
“You work out.” It slipped out, I swear. I couldn’t take my eye off the strain of the sleeve against his bicep. “Did you ever play sports?”
“Pitched for my unit’s baseball team when I was in the military.”
“Pitcher?” I was surprised. “You didn’t play in high school, did you?”
“One of those late-discovered talents, I guess.”
“I’m in favor of late discoveries.”
“Good.” Jeremy looked straight ahead as he said it, no grin or anything, but the crinkle at the side of his eye was an indication. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I wanted him to drop the to that. “With those biceps,” I murmured.
“What was that?” he asked.
“What’s that banner? Hooked on the edge of the rink. See it?” I pointed. “Hotston Properties. Is that … you?”
Jeremy gave a nonchalant shrug. “I like to support the local team.”
I’d seen that banner a dozen times, but it’d never dawned on me it could be Jeremy Hotston. “You sponsor a sports team.”
He gave me a blank look, as if this should have been self-evident. “Tax write-off. A fun one.”
“You sponsor other things, too?” I was catching on. “Like what? Never mind.” I waved my hand. “I’m making you miss the match.”
Trust me. Later, I’d be looking up Hotston Properties. Could Jeremy really own a business that sponsored teams? There’d been whispers, whispers that Jeremy had become highly successful, but I’d downsized them in my mind. Maybe …
We ate nachos at the venue, but I was still hungry, so Jeremy took me to dinner afterward. Wilder River didn’t have a huge selection of restaurants in general, but there were fewer at that time of night. He took me to the diner on the highway, where he ordered grilled cheese sandwiches and fries drizzled with ranch dressing for both of us.
“You know my favorite diner food?” I asked.
Again, with the knowing look. “It’s everyone’s favorite diner food. At least at Lou’s Diner.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Their cherry pie is good, too.”
On the ride back to my house, Jeremy turned on the radio.
“You listen to The Aussie Boys?” I nearly lost my composure. “Jeremy. This is just too—” Creepy? No, wrong word. Coincidental?
“Whether you remember or not, you and I have spent a lot of time together.”
Oh, that. “Darn it!” I let out an agonized wail. “Why can’t I remember it?”
“If you did, I think you’d be glad.”
But would he? “Would you?”
He didn’t answer. He pulled into my driveway, came around and helped me down from the truck. When he set me on my feet, he left his hands on my hips a little longer than necessary and stared into my eyes. “You’d better go inside.”
“You want to come in?”
“I’d better not.”