CARTER
IT’S cold as balls again.
“What the fuck is going on this winter?” Adam stuffs his hands deeper into his coat pockets, burying his face up to his nose behind his scarf.
“This is some east coast shit,” Garrett grumbles. “I didn’t leave Nova Scotia for this. West coast winters are supposed to be mild.” A tiny hand tugs on the tail of his wool coat, and Garrett grins, crouching down in front of the little boy. “Hey, buddy! Do you like hockey?”
This is one of my favorite events of the year, but the guys are right—it’s not normally this fucking cold. The air is frigid, and we’ve wandered away from the heat lamps for a break. Well, sort of a break. My gaze slides to Garrett as he signs a jersey with his name on the back. It’s hard to take a real break here, and none of us are turning away kids.
“Eh, Woody.” I nudge Adam in the arm. “Next year maybe think about hosting this in the summer so we’re not at risk of losing our balls.”
He laughs, surveying the packed park. “This is when they need the money the most. Put a sock on your cock if you’re that worried.”
I snicker. “Sock on your cock.”
Every year, we hold a tree lighting fundraising event on the first day of our Christmas break. This year, it’s on the twenty-third. The Family Project is Adam’s pride and joy, an event our team has hosted thanks to him for the last four years, and all the proceeds go to Second Chance Home, a home for kids who are waiting to be adopted. There’s tons of cool shit that goes on each year, like mini-stick tournaments, skill competitions, skating, photos with the players, and more. My favorite is the gingerbread house competition. I always lose because I eat as I build my house. Joke’s on them, though—eating cookies is winning.
“Heads up.” Emmett elbows me and inclines his head toward the cameraman and reporter heading our way. “Tuck your cock sock away for a few minutes and behave.”
“Aw, man. I hate behaving.” I flash a grin when the reporter stops in front of us. “Do you want my good side, or my better side?”
Adam knocks me out of the way. “Nobody cares about your face, Carter.”
“Well, I beg to differ.”
“That’s because your ego’s the size of North America and you like to argue.” He swings his arms around me and Emmett, tugging us close, and gestures Garrett over with the flick of his head. With a smile for the camera, he asks, “What would you like to know?”
We stand there for the next several minutes while Adam details the reasoning behind The Family Project, the parents that chose to open their arms to him and love him, gave him a second chance at life and a family, and how his brief time in the foster system lead him to this.
“And Carter,” Tracy, the reporter, says. “It looks we’re only fifteen hundred dollars away from the twenty-thousand-dollar goal here today. Reaching that goal comes with a price to pay for you, doesn’t it?”
I lay a hand on my chest. “A pie in the face is a price I’m always willing to pay.”
Garrett snorts in my ear. “So humble.”
A flash of dark chocolate and caramel over the shoulder of the cameraman catches my eye, and I lean to the left, into Garrett, trailing the dark-haired beauty as she strolls down the sidewalk.
“Well, I’ll be fucking damned.”
Tracy gives me a quizzical look. “Pardon?”
“Oh, nothing. I just…” I watch Olivia disappear into a small bakery, and I disengage from the tangled arms of my teammates. “I’ve got to handle something. The boys will finish up.”
With a quick look in both directions, I jog across the street, ignoring my name as it trails after me. The bell over the bakery door jingles when I burst through it, but Olivia doesn’t look up to see who’s joined her. She’s too busy gazing longingly at the treat display, one hand pressed to the glass, the other clutching her wallet.
“Anything else for you today?” the man behind the counter asks as he places an item in a white box.
“Um…” Her fingers drum against her brown leather wallet and she shakes her head. “No, I—”
“Oh shit. Is that Oreo cheesecake? I could fuck with that. We’ll take two pieces, please.”
Olivia whirls around, hand on her throat as she bounces off my chest with a gasp. “Jesus Christ, Carter.” She whacks my shoulder. “You scared me. What are you doing here?” She smiles at the baker as she pulls a five dollar bill out of her wallet. “No cheesecake, please.”
I slide my credit card across the counter. “Yes cheesecake, please.”
“Carter—”
“How come you only got one cinnamon bun?” I ask, peeking into the box on the counter as the man slices into the cheesecake.
Man, Olivia blushes a lot. I don’t know why, but I do know it’s cute as fuck, especially when she pairs it with twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
“My mom always made them on Christmas morning. I don’t know how to make them, so I buy one every year.”
“You’re gonna last two whole days without eating that? How?”
“Because I have—” she pauses to frown at me when I rip off a chunk and pop it in my mouth, “—self-control.”
“Oh, not me,” I mumble, then swallow. “Holy fuck, that’s good.” I grab another chunk and flick a nod at the man who’s laughing at me behind the counter. “We’ll take half a dozen, please.” I smile down at Olivia’s irritated—but oddly unsurprised—face. “You look nice.”
She looks down at her outfit, her leggings and chunky leather ankle boots, the oversized hoodie beneath her open wool coat, and—you guessed it—she blushes.
I give her hair a gentle tug. “My favorite part is the toque.” I chuckle as a mitten goes tumbling from her pocket, and I pick it up by one of the floppy ears. “And the puppy mitts.”
She takes the boxes from the man with a smile and a thank you so much, then follows me outside.
“Does your mom not make cinnamon buns on Christmas morning anymore?” I ask as I offer her half of the one I’m currently eating. She shakes her head and I shrug, shoving the rest of it in my mouth, licking the gooey cream cheese frosting off my fingers.
“My parents live in Ontario, so I don’t see them for Christmas.”
“Can’t you visit?”
“I could, but they’re semi-retired and travel all winter. My brother lives here, so I have dinner with his family.”
“You spend Christmas morning alone?” I don’t like that. Why doesn’t she spend the whole day with her brother? Or what about Cara and Emmett? “Isn’t that kinda lonely?”
She lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I’m used to it.” Her gaze coasts down my body, then back up. “What are you doing here, Carter?”
I tip my head across the street. “Fundraiser.”
“And what are you doing here?”
“Well, I saw you walking and, I mean…” I scratch my temple. “Why did you bail on me on Friday night?” Something uncomfortable and foreign twists in my stomach. “I thought we were gonna go get something to eat.”
Olivia stares at me for a long, silent moment. “Are you serious? You bailed on me.”
“What do you mean? You left without saying anything.”
She rolls her eyes. “Because I came back from the bathroom to you with another woman all over you, Carter!”
“What?” My forehead wrinkles and smooths out just as quickly as my mind drifts back to Breanna. Or maybe it was Brenda. Brynn? Shit, I can’t remember, but I know she had red hair. “Oh, Old Red. You’re upset about that?”
“Oh my God.” She claps a hand over her face. “You seriously can’t understand why seeing another woman all over you might be a turn-off after I’d just agreed to spend time with you one on one?”
“Well, I guess I can, but…” I rub the back of my neck. Is she mad at me? I don’t want her to be mad at me. “I didn’t do anything. That kinda stuff happens all the time wherever I go.” I’m not sure that was the right thing to say, even if it is the truth. If anything, she looks kind of scared now. “Are you jealous?”
Her gaze dips to the ground. “No.”
“I think you are.” I tug on the strings of her hoodie. “And I think I like it.”
Olivia swats my hand away. “I don’t need to be comparing myself to other women and reminding myself of all the ways I don’t stack up, okay?”
Don’t stack up? What the fuck? “It wouldn’t be fair to compare you to them. You’re on an entirely different level.”
“I’m aware,” she mumbles at the ground.
“Yeah, they’re, like, here.” I chop a hand across Olivia’s torso, then raise my hand as far above her head as I can reach. “And you’re way up here.”
A sweet, timid smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You know, for someone who puts his foot in his mouth more often than not, you sure know how to be sweet sometimes.”
“Just another one of my God-given talents.” I glance across the street at the busy park. “Hey, wanna come hang out for a bit?”
“Oh, no, I…” She shifts her coat sleeve up to check her…bare wrist. “Shit. I don’t wear a watch.”
I throw an arm around her shoulder, burying her in my side, and start towing her across the street. “You’re a bit of a mess sometimes, huh? C’mon. The guys are there, and it’ll be fun.”
“Define fun.”
“I’m getting a pie to the face if we raise twenty thousand dollars, and I know Adam Lockwood is looking forward to delivering said pie.”
Olivia snickers. “What if you don’t raise it all?”
“Then I donate the rest of the money and get a pie to the face.”
“How much do you think I’d have to pay Adam to let me do the honors?”
I grin down at her, tugging her closer. “C’mon, pip-squeak.”
OLIVIA
I’m used to being the shortest person in the room. Ninety-nine percent of my high school students are taller than me, even the freshmen.
But this is terrifying.
“Am I exceptionally small or are you friends exceptionally tall?” I whisper to Carter as we approach a group of his teammates. He’s currently digging into his second cinnamon bun, his fingers covered in frosting, but he does spare me an amused and lingering glance.
“Both. Don’t worry. They won’t bite.” He winks. “I might, though.”
I don’t know how I wound up here. I was pretty set on not seeing Carter again, or at least not interacting with him. I thought Friday had been a crude but necessary reminder of who he was, because I’d accidentally let him peek over a couple of my walls and momentarily forgotten.
But now I’m not so sure.
Don’t get me wrong: the man is without a doubt as arrogant as the media makes him out to be. He has no qualms about saying whatever’s on his mind, which makes him remarkably honest but is also a little jarring.
For example, I—as someone whose pants he’s actively trying to get into—don’t need to or want to know that women attach themselves to his body wherever he goes. I certainly appreciate the clarification that what I saw Friday between him and the strawberry blonde wasn’t as it seemed, but the truth was somehow as intimidating as the belief had been nauseating.
The tallest man in the group turns around, and I recognize him immediately as Adam Lockwood, Vancouver’s superstar goalie. He spreads his arms wide, stepping in our direction.
“Where’d you go? I thought maybe you went to buy a cock…” His eyes slide my way, and his cheeks flush. “Sock…” He clears his throat and gives me a shy wave. “Hi. Me Adam. No. Fuck.” He claps a hand to his face and drags it down before offering it to me. “Adam. I’m Adam. I’m sorry. I’m just embarrassed because I don’t know you but I said cock sock in front of you.”
Oh my God, he’s adorable. He’s also insanely beautiful, bright blue eyes and dark, tousled curls begging to be touched.
I slip my hand into his. “You can say cock sock in front of me all you want.”
Carter’s mouth dips to my shoulder. “Can I—”
“No.” I cover his face with my hand and shove him away.
“Damnit.” He gestures toward me. “This is Olivia.”
Adam’s eyes brighten. “Oh! Cara’s friend!” His eyes darken as he looks at Carter. “Oh. Cara’s friend.”
Carter rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. Olivia wanted to hang out with me.”
“Uh, that’s not how it happened. You dragged me—”
His entire arm wraps around my head as he pulls me back into him, burying my words. “Shhh.”
Adam wears an insanely broad and sunny grin, his gaze bouncing between Carter and me, and it’s at this moment I realize I’m still in his arms, back pressed to his chest, and I’m not sure how to disengage.
Thankfully, Emmett spies me from across the park.
His eyes widen, and he breaks into a jog. “Ollie!” He yanks me out of Carter’s hold and wraps me in one of his burly hugs. They’re my favorite kind, bearish and bordering on the edge of suffocating. “Care didn’t say you were coming. She’s at a meeting with some clients.”
“I wasn’t. I was doing some last-minute Christmas shopping and got dragged here against my will.”
A handsome blond appears at Emmett’s side, giving me a sheepish smile. “Carter doesn’t like to take no for an answer.”
“I can tell it’s a very difficult concept for him to grasp.”
His turquoise eyes flash with mirth, and he takes my hand, introducing himself even though I already know who he is. “Garrett. I bet you’d like me better.”
“I bet I would too.”
“Can’t blame ya.” He gestures lazily at his face. “It’s the east coast twang.”
“Back off.” Carter huffs, tugging me away. “She’s my date.”
Um. “This is not a date.”
“Pretty sure it’s a date, Ollie.”
I cross my arms. “Pretty sure you have to ask someone on a date, Carter.”
His jade eyes gleam. “Eh, whatever. Ask, drag; it’s all the same.” He threads his fingers through mine and hauls me forward. “C’mon, pip-squeak. Let’s go get our faces painted.”
“I’m twenty-five. I’m not getting my face painted.”
I got my face painted.
Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.
“You look so pretty.”
“I have your damn jersey number on my cheek, Carter!”
He folds his lips into his mouth in an attempt to hide his guilty smile. “So pretty.”
Just trust me, he’d said. Well, it’ll be the last time I do. I’d sat down with a clear face and stood up with #87 painted in blue and green on my left cheek. The kicker is the obnoxious pink heart surrounding it. I’d say at least I don’t have Olaf on my face, but Carter seems to be incredibly proud of the cartoon snowman that covers his cheek.
He gestures to a stone retaining wall. “Wanna sit and have our cheesecake?”
“You’ve had two cinnamon bums and a corndog. How are you still hungry?”
He pats his belly. “I’m a big boy.”
He certainly is, and the corndog is the only thing I’ve eaten since breakfast, so I let him pull me down beside him, and we enjoy our dessert in silence.
“Do you need a ride home later?” he asks after a minute. “I can take you.”
My belly does this odd flip, and I can’t pinpoint the exact reason. It could be because the thought of being alone in a car with Carter later tonight makes me both anxious and excited, or because I’m too embarrassed for him to see where I live, the shoebox-sized house that fits me perfectly.
I swallow down my bite and shake my head. “No, thank you. I should get going after this.”
His face falls. “What? Already? No, you can’t.” He gestures at the towering pine tree currently being wrapped in lights. “You have to stay for the tree lighting. We could do something else after this too. Go somewhere, maybe.”
“It’s getting late.”
“But you don’t have to work tomorrow,” he argues, or whines. Little bit of a pout too. “You’re on vacation.”
“I don’t know…” I’ve already stayed longer than I planned to.
I’ve seen Carter get behind a microphone and make the crowd laugh. I’ve seen him engage with every child who’s tugged on his hand, whether for photos or signatures or a simple chat. I’ve seen him be a friend, a leader, a community partner, and through it all, he’s worn the most genuine smile. If I’m being honest, I’m not sure it’s a side to him I was ready to see, even though Cara insisted it existed somewhere behind the egotistical playboy attitude.
And I guess that’s the thing: just because he’s got this sweet, goofy side doesn’t mean the playboy side doesn’t exist. You can be both, and you can have both. But if I’m going to have him, I don’t want both.
The longer I stay, the more I see, the easier it becomes for me to fall. And I refuse to fall when nobody’s going to be waiting at the bottom to catch me.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I finally tell him quietly.
Disappointment flashes in his eyes, and he speaks softly. “Why are you so opposed to hanging out with me?”
“It’s not that. It’s…” My bottom lip slides between my teeth as I stare at my feet. “I’m not interested in a one-night stand. I’ve told you that.”
“So you wanna go on a date?”
Well, now I can’t not look at him. “You don’t date, Carter.”
“Right.” His gaze coasts slowly down my face, lingering on my lips for a moment. “Not typically. But that’s not what I asked, Olivia.”
I can’t focus. Everything feels hazy, like a thick fog I can’t see through to the other side. Because that’s what this is. I hear his words, his question, but I don’t know what lies on the other side of the actions. It’s like choosing to jump when you can’t see the ground.
“Liv?” Carter squeezes my fingers. “Do you wanna go on a…date?” He tacks on a barely audible fuck, peering up at the sky as he tips his head side to side, the bones in his neck cracking, as if simply saying the four-letter word is painful enough.
Which only serves as a reminder that a date would be a waste of time, both his and mine.
“I have no desire to go on a date with you just to let you fuck me at the end of the night and then promptly watch you publicly parade around town with a different girl glued to your hip every other day of the week, leaving me feeling used and tossed aside.”
A simple no would have sufficed, which is what I’d meant to say when I opened my mouth. Instead, I word-vomited all over him and embarrassed myself by revealing how easy it would be for him to hurt me.
Ultimately though, it is what it is. At this point, I don’t know him well enough to make another choice. Carter’s not been secretive about his intent. Besides being forthcoming with wanting to get me in bed, the guy also proudly splashes his personal life all over the papers. What am I supposed to think when he controls his own narrative and that narrative screams fuckboy?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive. It’s just—”
“It’s all I’ve given you. You don’t have to apologize.” Carter’s thumb sweeps over my knuckles, and I watch as he traces the shape of each finger. “So you don’t want to hook up, but you don’t want to date either? I guess I’m a little confused.”
“That’s fine,” I insist, maybe a little stubbornly. “I’m the only person who needs to understand my decisions. You can have anybody you want, Carter.”
His laugh is hollow, long fingers skimming the sharp angle of his jaw. “I can’t, clearly.” He gestures at me with a sweeping hand. “Because what I want is you.”
“You don’t actually want to take me on a date. You only think you want me because I said no, and you’re not used to it. It’s the thrill of the chase.”
He gnaws on his lip. “That’s what I thought at first too. But now I’m not so sure.” He lifts a lazy shoulder. “Who knows; maybe I’d be good for you.”
I hear the words, and I’m trying so hard to focus on them, but it’s becoming impossible. My eyes squeeze shut with my snicker. “I’m sorry. I know this is a serious conversation, but you’ve got that damn snowman on your face.”
Carter dips his head, covering his smile with the hand he runs over his mouth before he peers back up at me. “Will you please just stay for the tree lighting? We’re having fun. There’s no sense in ending it now. I’ll order you an Uber to take you home so you don’t have to worry about what might happen if we’re alone together in a dark car later.”
“I’m not worried—”
“You are. You’re fucking transparent, Ollie. ’Cause I’d probably try to kiss you, and you’d probably let me.” He leans back, blowing out a deep breath. “And who the fuck knows what happens after that.” A soft, easy smile. “So stay, please. No funny business, I promise.”
I’m quickly learning that the only thing I’m good at saying no to is his request to get me naked and in his bed. He’s incredibly persuasive, especially when he pulls those dimples in, or when he gives me those puppy dog eyes.
That’s how I wind up standing next to him nearly two hours later—well after Adam’s smooshed not one, not two, but three pies into his face—as the sun finishes dipping into the horizon while we stare up at the massive tree, waiting.
My frosty breath puffs out in front of me, and my teeth clatter as a shiver rolls through my body. With the sun gone, the winter air feels a lot more frigid.
Carter shifts from beside me, disappearing from view, and a moment later his arms come around me, pulling me back against his chest, encasing me in his warmth. My body stills at the contact, but inside, every nerve ending fizzes.
My arms lift, floppy-eared puppy mitten-sheathed hands gripping his forearms where they wrap around me, and I sink into the moment, letting myself forget about the expectations, the fears, the lines.
A chuckle rumbles around me as Carter rests his chin on top of my head. “Cutest fucking mittens I’ve ever seen.”
The tree comes to life, multicolored lights twinkling, making this December night glow as the crowd around us oohs and aahs.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Carter’s arms tighten around me. “Yeah. Sure is.”
With the tree lit and the park emptying, Carter walks me to the car idling by the curb.
I look at the fancy, all-black SUV. “I know you ordered the luxury option.”
He shrugs, smile bashful. “Prove it, pip-squeak.”
I giggle. “Thanks for today, Carter. It was fun.”
He nods, then stops me when I reach for the door. “Wait. What are you doing on New Year’s Eve? We’re having a team party. Cara and Emmett will be there. Maybe you could come.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“Do you already have plans?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then you’ll come.” He folds his hands together beneath his chin when I open my mouth to argue. “Please, Ollie. It’ll be fun.” He steps in front of the car door. “I won’t let you leave until you say yes.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there.”
He punches a fist through the air. “A-ha!”
“It’s not a date,” I remind him quickly, poking his shoulder.
He shakes his head, hands up. “Not a date.” He opens the door and gestures for me to climb in, and then proceeds to reach over and buckle me in. He tucks my box of cinnamon buns on my lap and pulls back, scratching the back of his neck. “Um, Ollie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for upsetting you Friday night and making you feel like I bailed on you.”
My mouth quirks. “I’m sorry I actually did bail on you.”
“I’m not sorry you were jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous.”
Carter grins. “Green looks so good on you.”
“Shut up.” I smile up at him. “I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.”
He nods. “Not a date.”
“Not a date,” I repeat.
Then he shuts the door, hits me with two finger guns, and yells, “It’s a date!”
