“I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”

“You get a question and then I get a question.” She pops the bite of rare beef into her mouth and chews thoughtfully for a few seconds. “What’s your favorite TV show?”

“The Big Bang Theory.”

Queenie snorts a laugh. “Why does that not surprise me in the least?”

“My turn. What’s your dream job?”

“For a while I wanted to be a therapist.”

“But not anymore?”

She wags a finger at me. “My turn.”

“You didn’t even answer the question, though.”

“Sure I did. I said I wanted to be a therapist.”

“For a while, which implies past tense.”

“It’s not a realistic goal, hence the whole dream-job thing. I’d ask what yours is, but I think you’re already doing it, aren’t you?”

“I am. Why isn’t becoming a therapist a realistic goal?”

“I don’t think I’d be good at helping people.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have it together, so I can’t very well help anyone else if I don’t even have my own life sorted out.”

“How can you say that? You have a job that you’re good at.”

“I’m working for my dad. I don’t think it really counts.” She waves her fork around in the air. “Anyway, this was supposed to be like a fun twenty questions, and you’re making it all serious. What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Vanilla anything.”

She chuckles and shakes her head.

“What’s wrong with vanilla?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you laughing at me?”

“It’s just ironic, that’s all.”

“What’s your favorite dessert?”

“It depends on the day.”

We end up ordering the chocolate lava cake with ice cream for dessert so I get my vanilla ice cream and Queenie gets her chocolate fix. And as much as I remind myself that this is a platonic thing, my body and my brain aren’t synced up. At all. Because all I can think of is how good Queenie’s mouth would taste if I kissed her right now.

“I had a lot of fun tonight. Thanks for dinner,” Queenie says when I pull into her driveway.

“It was my pleasure, and me, too, about having fun. Maybe we can do it again soon?”

“Sure. I’d like that.”

“Next time it could be a real date.”

Her smile turns rueful and my stomach sinks. “I really like you, Kingston—”

“It sounds like there’s a but coming.” I try to make it sound like a joke, but it falls flat.

“You’re a great guy, and a lot of fun, but I can’t date you.” Now she looks apologetic. “Not because I don’t want to, but my dad only laid down one rule when I took the job as his assistant, and that was not to date any of the players.”

“But maybe if we talked to him—”

“He did me a huge favor by giving me this job. I lost my apartment because I couldn’t afford it, and between the night I met you and him giving me the job, I got canned at two other restaurants, which, honestly, isn’t a surprise, because I really, really suck at waiting tables. I don’t want to put him in a weird spot or disappoint him. I just . . . can’t. I’m sorry, Kingston, but we can still hang out if you want, as friends?” She chews her bottom lip, looking hopeful.

“Sure, yeah. We can hang out as friends.” It’s honorable that she wants to abide by the rule Jake laid down, even if it’s inconvenient for me.

“Thanks for understanding.” She leans over the center console and presses her lips to my cheek. I fight with myself not to turn my head. Thankfully my restraint wins out over my hormones.

“Oops.” She makes a cringey face and rubs at my cheek, presumably because she left lipstick behind. “See you tomorrow, King. Drive safe.” She winks and then she’s out the door.

I guess being friends is better than nothing. For now.

CHAPTER 9

TERRITORIAL

Queenie

I expect Kingston to lose interest when I tell him dating is off the table. So I’m surprised when the exact opposite happens.

For the third day in a row he pops his head into my office. “You waiting for your dad?”

I glance at his closed door. “He got a call and he said it might be a while. You offering to be my Uber driver?”

“I’d be happy to drive you home, but I need to make a stop on the way, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, I don’t mind.” I send a message to my dad to let him know I’m leaving for the day, pack up my stuff, and fall into step beside Kingston. “How was practice today?”

“Really good. You know Alex has been testing Rook and Bishop on the same line, like you suggested, and they actually play really well together.” He holds the door open for me, and we cross the parking lot to his car. He parks in the same spot every day, at the far end of the lot.

“That’s great. I’ll have to make a point of coming to practice later this week.”

“You should. It’s interesting to watch, and it means some of the guys on the third line are getting more play, which is only going to help our game as a team.”

“That makes me so happy!” I mean it too. I’m glad I was able to point out something of value to my dad, and that it’s helping the team.

As usual, Kingston opens the passenger door and holds out his hand to help me up. I could easily manage without the assistance, but I like the contact—probably more than I should. I enjoy spending time with Kingston, even though it’s supposed to be just as friends and most of the time my thoughts are well beyond the platonic zone.

Once I’m seated, he rounds the hood and takes his spot behind the wheel. Kingston checks the rearview mirror, makes a minor adjustment to the right-side mirror, and tests the blinkers to make sure they’re working.

By now I’m used to his excessive caution: signaling before he even leaves the parking spot, braking as soon as the light turns yellow (even though he has more than enough time to pass through the intersection before it turns red), driving exactly the speed limit, if not a couple of miles an hour under it. He’s worse than a ninety-year-old, and I kind of love it.

“So what’s this stop you have to make?” I ask as he makes a left out of the lot instead of a right.

“You’ll see.” He gives me the Kingston version of a smirk, which is really just a cute, slightly devious smile.

“Well, that’s kind of cryptic. Am I supposed to guess?”

“You can go ahead and try if you want.”

“Are we going to the SPCA to pet cute puppies that need a home?”

“No, but I could arrange that if it’s something you’d want to do. I actually had an endorsement for the SPCA last year, and I try to go once a month to their adoption days: sign autographs and that kind of thing.”

“Why are you so perfect?” It makes it hard to stick to the whole “we can just be friends” rule when he tells me things like this.

“I’m not even close to perfect.”

“I’ve yet to find a flaw that isn’t endearing.” I tap my lip. “Are we going to a seniors’ retirement village, where all the little old ladies will pat your butt and you’ll smile and pretend it’s not happening?”

“Uh, no, and I seriously doubt little old ladies would do things like that.”

“If I was a senior and you showed up at my retirement village, I’d totally pat your butt.” I hold up a finger. “Let’s pretend I didn’t say that.”

“You’re actually welcome to pat my butt anytime you want, but I don’t know that it would bode well for the platonic rule.” He winks, and I laugh.

I’m glad we both seem to be getting over the whole semihookup. Or at least we’re comfortable enough with each other that we can joke about it.

Ten minutes later he pulls into the parking lot of what looks like a bar, at least at first glance. “What is this place?”

A smile breaks across Kingston’s face that’s somewhere between excitement and mischief. “You ready to have some fun?” His tongue peeks out and slides over the chip in his front tooth.

I hold up a hand. “Okay, that right there has to stop.”

His smile drops and his eyes dart around. “What has to stop?”

“What you’re doing. Or what you just did. The being all cute and sexy and saying things that can be interpreted with innuendo.”

He frowns. Even his frowns are sexy. This whole platonic thing is rough. “There wasn’t any innuendo.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I asked if you were ready to have some fun.”

“You think so?” I adjust my pose and uncross my legs. I run my palms down my dress-pant-covered thighs and part them slightly. Yes, I’m overdoing it, but I’m also proving a point. I drag my tongue along my top lip, then bite the bottom one before I put on my best phone-sex voice. “Are you ready to have some fun, Kingston?”

He strobe blinks at me a bunch of times. His voice is two full octaves lower than usual. “I didn’t say it like that.”

“Maybe not, but the impact was the same as if you had. Let’s get out of this car before the pheromones take over.” I open my door and jump out before we make any informed bad choices.