Seven months ago. April.

Leighton slouched on the sofa, controller in his hand, foot on the coffee table. His black locs were cut shorter, too short for him to tie back but long enough to sit on his brow.

"Let me get this straight," he smacked the button, his whole body tensing up while he boxed his digital opponent. "You're skipping out on our Atlantic city trip, which we've been looking forward to all fucking season, because you have to have coffee with a Canucks puck bunny?"

"Ain't even like that," I read the text message from Kinsley confirming her address.

"What's it like?"

I dropped the phone onto the table and picked up the t-shirt hanging over the seat. Leighton didn't have an apartment here, his house was in Calgary where he'd grown up. Most of the team resided full time in Alberta somewhere.

The only reason he hung around in Vancouver was because this was where I was if we weren't on the road. He was a regular at the five star hotel in South Granville five minutes away but he didn't spend a lot of time there unless it was with his speed dial puck bunnies. That left him on my couch eighty percent of the time.

"It's like," I said, slipping the shirt over my head. "Seeing a play in your head and being so fucking certain it's going to win us the game."

He looked over the back of the couch at me. "You're comparing a girl to a good play?"

"Fuck up. I don't know how else to explain it. Like, sure there's other variables I can't see that could fuck up this move right? But I'm sure enough that I'm gonna go for it anyway."

Leighton let out a loud sigh and turned back to his game. "So what, she's the one?"

"Could be. Guess I'll have to find out."

"Sounds stupid. You don't know her at all."

"You can fuck off now," I said, slapping him across the back of the head as I walked past the sofa. "I'm headed out."

He grumbled under his breath but shut the console down and stood up. "Might see if Frey wants to do Atlantic city instead."

"You do that," I slapped him on the shoulder and held the door open for him. If he thought he could make me jealous enough to cancel coffee on a girl I hadn't had the chance to take out, he was dead wrong.

Cancelling would be a fucking terrible first impression.

"Look," I said. "If it doesn't go well, I'll catch another flight out and meet you there. Casey and Matthew's are still in. So head off and quit sulking."

He narrowed his glare. "One question."

"What."

"What coffee did she ask for?"

"Fuck off."

"Bet it's something stupid."

Leighton was sure that a girls coffee order was a good tell on whether or not she was worth going out with. Dense little shit.

After I'd slammed the door shut on him, I spritzed on some cologne, ran a bit of oil through my hair and brushed my teeth. My phone started ringing when I was half way out the door.

My sister.

"Ashley," I pulled the door closed and slipped on a backward cap. "What's going on?"

"I'm five minutes into a graveyard shift and I've just contemplated suing the hospital for the state of their coffee. If I don't get a decent brew, I'm going to slip IV lines full of air into my own skull. Bring me an iced latte. Please. Please."

My sister was a nurse and as dramatic as she could be when it came to her caffeine, she did work fucking hard.

"You're lucky I'm on a coffee run right now. I'll be half n hour."

"A coffee run?" She asked, intrigue in her tone.

She'd have to wait for the details. I wanted to make sure this first date went well enough to ask for a second before I let Ashley sniff out the chance of a potential romance. She'd be all over that. In her own, detached and morbid way.

"For the team," I lied. "I'll be there soon."

After I'd dropped Ashley an iced latte and saved her from caffeine withdrawal, I drove to the address in Kerrisdale. My knee bounced the entire time, my fingers drummed the steering wheel. I had no fucking clue what was going on with me but I decided not to question it. I liked the way it made me feel.

                  The townhouse door swung open and Kinsley answered it in a big black hoodie, shorts and slippers. Her hair was held up with a clip, strands of her curls framed her face. She took my fucking breath away.

And so did the little girl clinging to her leg.

"Hi," I said, holding three coffees. Two in one hand. She noticed that and I kind of liked that she noticed that.

"Hi," she ran her hand across the little girls head. "This is Lottie."

"Lottie," I repeated, looking between the two of them. The little girl was Asian, that much was obvious. But she had Kinsley's nose which made me ask, "you have a kid?"

She folded her arms. "Is that an issue?"

"Not for me," I said. "Mom's are good. Great. I like mom's. I have one. She's nice."

Kinsley pursed her lips, holding back a smile that made her look so damn mischievous.

"I'm not a mom," she said. "I'm an aunt. This is Sadie's daughter."

"Was that a test?"

She gestured me inside and Lottie ran off, her footsteps disappearing up the hall.

"Of course," she said, walking ahead of me. "How a man reacts to certain information is a good tell of his character."

"Did I pass?"

She peered over her shoulder, her gaze falling to my hand cradling two coffees. A smile lifted the corner of her mouth and without a word, she turned back around.

I totally passed.

We walked into a kitchen and dining area. It was a nice town house. Warm green tones, rich wood, plants and shelving that was stained wood and still held the patterns and edges of a tree trunk. Sadie was lounging in an egg chair with a book in her hand.

"Hi, Phoenix," she grinned.

"Pecan latte with almond milk," I wandered over and handed her the coffee, doing my best to ignore the excitement practically lifting her out of the seat.

"Thank you," her lashes fluttered.

"You are such a sell out," Kinsley said to her sister, taking the coffee from me when I went back to her. Her voice was so gravelly and I fucking loved it.

"Me?" Sadie cried. "You're the one on a date with a Flame."

Kinsley didn't have an answer for that. Instead she tilted her head at the kitchen door and walked off, so I followed.

We went through a small corridor and out the back door. For a town house, the yard space was decent. Most of it was concrete with a small strip of lawn along the back fence. Lights were strung from a pergola, a brick fire pit sat in the middle of outdoor wicker arm chairs and planter boxes were full of flowers.

"This is a great place," I said, sitting down in one of the chairs.

Kinsley took the seat next to me and tucked her thick shapely legs under her butt. "Thanks. I did the interior design."

"Really?"

She nodded, sipping on her iced Americano with caramel and oat milk. Not the weirdest coffee order I'd ever heard of. Her soft lips closed around the straw and I tried super fucking hard not to watch like an asshole but everything she did was weirdly captivating and arousing and— fuck.

"Is that what you do?" I asked, ignoring the urge to sit closer to her. "Interior design?"

"Na," she said. "I'm in marketing. You've heard of that iron fencing brand, Iron Riot."

"Yeah. They have that super catchy theme song and the ad with all the hot mom's putting up the fence."

She pointed at herself, pride in her grin. "I manage the team that puts that shit together. We have a few major contracts but that one is our biggest."

"Wow," I said, impressed. "I feel a bit star struck."

She snorted. "Yeah right. You're one of the biggest names in NHL right now. Which begs the question, what's this whole coffee thing about? Surely you don't have to go through all of this for sex?"

"That's not why I'm here," I said, resting my elbows on my knees, coffee in hand.

She didn't seem to give a single fuck that I had status in the NHL and I wasn't sure if that was because she's a Canucks girl or because she just wasn't easily impressed.

Whatever it was, I liked it. She didn't blush or stutter or seem nervous at all.

She watched me. "Then. . ."

"Then what?"

"Then what is this?" She asked.

"A date. Coffee. Talking."

Her head tipped back and she sighed. With her attention on the pergola above, I looked at the smooth skin of her neck, a small silver chain peeped out from the neckline of her hoodie.

"You don't have to be so skeptical," I said, leaning back in the seat.

"I do," she said, looking at me again. "This is weird. You're a sports star for a team I don't even support, you don't know me and there's a million other things a man like you could be doing right now. I don't get it."

"Can't explain it, Kins. I just know that I want to be here."

Uncertainty crossed her features and it made me wonder what she'd been through to make her feel like she wasn't worth this time and attention.

"You're good at interior design," I said, not able to stand this vulnerable expression she was watching me with. "The house looks like the inside of a catalogue. In a good way. A well done catalogue. Not one of those sterile, lifeless show rooms that have no personality."

She laughed and it felt like a fucking gift.

"Sadie always said I should go into interior design."

"Why didn't you?"

She exhaled, lifting her brows in thought. "I think it felt unrealistic in college. Like, there was no way I could ever do something that I love for a living. You know? That just doesn't happen. I thought it'd be better to get a sensible degree and a safe job. I'm good at marketing and I do like it."

"It just doesn't bring the same level of satisfaction that decorating a house does, right?"

She smiled at me, her nose crunched up and my stomach twisted. "Yeah. There's something super special about bringing a vision to life. Creating. Seeing it in your mind and being able to achieve it. Sadie had an enormous budget too, her ex is loaded. So doing this place was like being a kid in a candy store. I went all out. It was so much fun."

"You are allowed to do what you love for a living," I said, putting my empty cup on the ground next to me. "I love hockey."

She leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair, rested her chin in her palm and just looked at me with this soft sweet smile. "You're good at it too."

"Thank fuck," I laughed. "Or I might not have made it too far."

We both laughed. Kinsley untucked her legs from beneath her and sat on her butt. The shape of those legs, strong, thick, looking like the perfect accessory for my throat.

For fucks sakes.

She was careful not to let her slippered feet touch me but she was close enough that it could happen and I felt like a fucking teenager, amped with hormonal excitement.

"Hang on," I said. "You think I'm good? Me, a Flame?"

"I am a fan of the sport," she declared, hand to her chest. "I'm not that ridiculous that I can't admit where the talent is. Some of the goals you've made this season, phenomenal."

"I appreciate that."

She lightly laughed to herself. "Now if someone had said the Phoenix Maverick was going to give me his jersey and ask me out, I would've slapped the stupid out of them. I still can't quite process it."

"I'm right here."

"It's just too weird."

"You know we're people too," I said, readjusting my backward cap. "We like other human people."

"Yeah, but with so many options to choose from I can't quite decipher how I ended up on your radar."

"How about this," I leaned forward so I was on the edge of the chair, bringing us closer. "I heard you first and when I saw you, I thought, that is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen cheering at one of these games. It was your energy and the way you're entire face smiles, not just your mouth. I don't know, Kins. You just had me."

She swallowed, I watched her throat roll and I wanted to kiss the spot right below her jaw. I wouldn't, but I'd think about it for a while tonight.

Dusk was setting, solar lights in the ground around the fence line were turning on and the crisp orange sky cast warm vibrant shades across Kinsley's cheeks. I leaned in closer, my fingertips grazed the edge of her thigh and I watched the little intake of her breath.

Was I really going to kiss her right now? It was our first date.

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her right now.

Watching her mouth, I waited for some sort of indication she wanted this too and it came when her body leaned into me.

"I set your jersey on fire," she whispered when we were barely a breath apart.

"What?"

"Sorry."

"Uh, okay. That's no big deal," I said slowly. "I have more. It was yours. I gave it to you to wear or. . . burn."

She fell back into her seat, the wicker creaked underneath the sudden movement. "No big deal," she said, disbelieving humour in her tone. "I feel like I could get away with crashing your car at this point. You're a hockey player. I've seen you beat someone into a bloody state over bumping into you before. But nothing, no reaction."

"Do you want me to beat you up?"

Her head tilted. "Depends on the context I suppose."

"Fucking hell," I laughed, leaning back in the seat. "Look, I'm not an animal. I have self control. I just don't use it when I'm on the ice. Because I don't have to. Plus, I think at this point, you could crash my car, and all I'd want to do is make sure you aren't hurt."

She tried to hide her smile behind her hand, twisting the little silver ring in her nose. But I could see it, and I loved it.

We talked a while longer, we talked about college and the chaos of student life, the wild nights out, the burning humiliation of drunken debacles. The parental involvement in our lives, siblings, favourite foods and clothing brands, music, concerts and things that were weird and random but just made me like her more.

But soon it was getting dark and as much as I could've sat in that garden, surrounded by soft ambient light that kissed that woman's skin and made her glow, I wasn't going to overstay. Not tonight.

"So," I said, standing on the front door step. "Can we do this again sometime? Dinner?"

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

She leaned on the door, looking up at me. "Not dinner. I have a better idea."