The Aubrey Rules by Aven Ellis Page A

dork,” I tease.
    That does it. Beckett laughs, and I see the light come back into his eyes.
    “But this is where I can help,” I say. “I’ll post things on your accounts and get people excited to see a glimpse into your life, and all I have to do is take a picture. That’s it.”
    Beckett exhales. “I can’t tell you what a relief that is. I don’t want to think about it. Or read comments or worry that I sound stupid in my posts. I just want to play hockey.”
    “I know you do,” I say, nodding. “That’s your priority. Let me handle growing your awareness. Trust me, it can be as simple as me taking a picture of you eating pizza. That easy.”
    “When you say it, I believe it,” he says.
    “Then believe it.”
    “I believe you, ” Beckett says.
    Oh, I’m going to need to start ripping pages out of rule book, I can feel it.
    “You’re so confident,” Beckett says.
    “You’re super confident on the ice,” I tell him. “And you weren’t shy the day we met.”
    “No, I wasn’t,” Beckett agrees. “You make me laugh. You’re fun. And I feel with you, things are easy. I can say things and you get them.”
    I do, I think. I do get them.
    “By the way, you’re known on social media as more than a hockey player,” I say, setting him up.
    “I’m afraid to ask.”
    “For all the women who yearn for you on Tumblr, you’re a life-ruiner.”
    Then I see it. Beckett begins to turn red, and I can’t believe how adorable he is in his current state of embarrassment.
    “Stop that,” Beckett says.
    I laugh, and he shoots me a dirty look.
    “Don’t worry, Becks, I won’t acknowledge those comments, even if they are complimentary.”
    “Ugh,” Beckett groans. “Remind me why I’m doing this?”
    “You know why,” I say firmly. “So you can build a brand name. So you have more opportunities while you’re playing for sponsorships and to further make money. To set yourself up for a career after hockey, too. And so I can take this off your plate.”
    “That part I like.”
    “I told you, I won’t let it this be painful for you,” I assure him.
    “So the only pain involved will be if you hit me in the face like you did earlier?” he quips.
    “Beckett!” I cry, but I’m already laughing.
    He laughs with me, and once again, I find myself enjoying the moment with him.
    “I should probably go,” I say aloud, although I really don’t want to.
    “Okay,” Beckett says, standing up. He extends his hand to me, and I take it, letting him pull me up. I love his hands, they’re so big and strong, and it takes all my willpower to let it go.
    We both pick up plates and glasses and carry them into the kitchen. I grab my tote off the countertop, and I’m ready to leave.
    “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
    “What? That’s ridiculous!”
    “No it’s not. I’ve seen you fall in an elevator. What if you knocked yourself out or something? I’d feel horrible.”
    I know I’m turning bright red, but at the same time, I’m deliriously happy he’s going to do it.
    We leave his condo and head to the elevator. I punch the down button, and the whole time there’s this electric feeling between us. Or at least on my part. I mean, he could have kissed me on the couch if he wanted to, but he didn’t. But then there’s the things he said, the way he looked at me—
    The doors chime, and I decide not to fixate on it. Or what the consequences will be from what I’m doing with Beckett.
    We ride in silence to my floor. I lead him to the unit I’m living in, and I take a moment to fumble around for the key in my bag.
    “Should I go get us some coffee?” Beckett teases. “It might take you a while to find it. I might even have time to grab some Timmy’s up in Canada.”
    “You’re such a smart ass,” I say, laughing as I continue to feel around in my cavernous bag for my stupid keys.
    “ Captain Smart Ass, you keep forgetting my title.”
    I locate my keys and glance up at him. Beckett is leaning