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I tilted my head. “Can I ask you something?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Why are you here?”

“You mean at the Bruins?”

I shook my head. “No, here with me at this moment. You must have plenty of other things you could be doing right now that are more fun than listening to my drivel.”

“Maybe I like drivel.”

I snort-laughed. “No one likes drivel.”

He smiled, and his eyes dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second. “Maybe I like you.”

I shifted in my seat to face him. “Why?”

Christian shrugged again. “I don’t know. I think you’re interesting.”

My eyes narrowed. “What about me is interesting?”

“You’re a billionaire who lives in a rent-controlled apartment over a fruit stand and tried to give the team you inherited to your grandfather. What’s not interesting about you? Given your situation, most people I know would live in a penthouse by now and take car services, not walk twenty minutes to the stadium every day after getting off the train.”

I raised an eyebrow, and a grin spread across Christian’s face.

“Plus, you’re hot.”

That last part made me smile. “And technically, I’m your boss.”

His grin widened. “That makes you even hotter.”

I chuckled. “Tell me about yourself, Christian. I feel like you know so much about me, but I don’t know anything about you, other than your stats, of course.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“You think I’m hot too, don’t you?”

I laughed. “Just answer the question, Knox. Something tells me your ego gets stroked enough.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”

I tapped my lip with my pointer. “What do you do in the offseason?”

“Recover. Let my body heal. Sleep. Fish. I have a cabin on a lake up in Maine. Spend time with friends. Travel. Keep up with my training.”

“That sounds so…normal.”

“The season is anything but normal when you play in the NFL. It’s tough on the body and mind. You’re on the road all the time, the media follows your ass around, women hand you underwear with their numbers written on them and sneak into your hotel room. So normal is good.”

My face wrinkled. “Women give you their underwear?”

Christian smiled. “Any other questions?”

“Am I demented if I’m curious to know whether the underwear are clean or not?”

He laughed. “Maybe. But I like the way you think.”