The week dragged on in a monotonous cycle of school, practice, and dryland until it was time for Bailey’s birthday dinner. Ever since our talk, we were closer than ever, but sometimes I could still sense her holding back. Even so, I’d win her trust or die trying.
After suffering through a morning of classes, doing my best to focus and failing, I bolted off campus and headed over to Ice Life to have James’s skates sharpened. Could have done it at the rink during practice, but I wanted the excuse to window shop for shit while I waited.
Unfortunately, they were having some epic one-day sale I hadn’t been aware of, and the place was packed. Normally, I would have bailed, but I had a few hours to kill, and I wanted to check out a bunch of newly released equipment, so I decided to stay and deal with the crowds. Plus, I was more than a little distracted thinking about seeing Bailey later. Completing schoolwork or doing anything else remotely productive wasn’t an option.
I navigated through the throngs of shoppers over to the skate-sharpening counter in the rear corner. There was usually no wait, but today the line was at least a dozen people deep.
When I joined the lineup, Morrison suddenly appeared from out of nowhere like a preppy little demon summoned from the depths of hell. Pale blue polo, slicked-back blond hair, and an overwhelming aura of entitlement. That he’d been handed everything his entire life was written all over his cocky face.
What were the fucking odds?
I balled my hands into fists, squeezing until my knuckles turned white; I wished they were around his neck. I’d always hated the guy, but it was next-level at this point.
Pulling out my phone, I sent Dallas a quick text about the practice plan for later. Then I popped a piece of extreme mint gum, taking my hostility out on it. And I checked our fantasy hockey results to find that James was right about taking the trade. After last night’s games, I was in second place overall, while Dallas had fallen to fourth. Nice.
Despite my blatant attempt to ignore him, Morrison slithered my way, coming to hover close enough that I was engulfed in a cloud of his too-strong, obnoxious cologne. His presence was irritating on every level.
He nodded at the skates in my hand. “Are those Bailey’s?”
The fuck?
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a creep?” I asked.
Morrison squinted his watery blue eyes, glaring at me. Or attempting to, anyway. He didn’t have enough spine to lend the weak glare any credibility.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a dick?” he countered.
I grinned. “All the time, man.”
A compliment, really, considering the source.
The winding line moved forward, turning right, which created a buffer of people between us. No longer able to needle me, Morrison lost interest and wandered off.
Once I dropped Bailey’s skates off at the counter, I browsed the store, making a conscious effort to avoid him—not because I was scared of him, but because I was scared of what I might do to him.
He talked a lot of shit for someone who couldn’t back it up. I should pummel him for the text message thing alone. But I couldn’t afford to lay him out off the ice. Good thing we were playing them again soon.
As I rounded a corner near the sticks and tape, I ran into Morrison again, standing near the CCM display. Like the gods wanted me to beat his ass. The fates were practically begging me to do it.
Of course, leaving the area because of him wasn’t an option, so I carried on browsing the shelves like he wasn’t there.
He glanced over at me, setting down the stick he was holding. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Carter.” His voice oozed with syrupy smugness. “We both know you’re a rebound.”
Ah, fuck it. We were tucked away in an aisle at the back. No one around to see. Probably no cameras, either.
I pivoted to face him, and his expression instantly shifted from cocky to apprehensive. His eyes darted around, confirming that we were very much alone. I prowled in his direction, taking my sweet-ass time closing the distance between us. Daring him to run away and relishing how his discomfort visibly climbed with every step I took.
There were so many things I knew, so many things I wanted to say. But I wouldn’t sell out James. He wasn’t worth it.
Intentionally invading his space, I came to a stop a little too close. He stiffened and shuffled back, flinching slightly as he hit the metal shelving behind him. We stood nearly nose to nose, although nose to forehead was a more accurate description.
“You’re real mad that she moved on, huh?”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. Of course not, now that we were alone and within swinging range.
“Got anything else to say?” I asked.
A beat passed. I raised my eyebrows. He glared at me, still silent.
“Yeah,” I said evenly. “That’s what I thought.”
My phone beeped with a text message. Her skates were probably done.
I nodded at him. “Later, fuckface.”
After narrowly refraining from committing a felony, I channeled all my leftover aggression into our afternoon practice and crushed it. It was a great way to forget about that asshat and head into an evening with James. My mood was sky high. Until I had to deal with her roommate.
Amelia answered the front door, giving me a death stare. She paused, uttering a massive sigh like my very existence was an imposition. Right back atcha, Amelia.
“I guess I’ll go get her.” She flipped her hair and flounced away, leaving the door hanging wide open without inviting me in. I could see why Amelia got along with Paul so well, considering how friendly and charming they both were.
I stepped inside the entryway, taking her absence as an open invitation to do so. A minute later, Bailey came down the stairs, eyes brightening when they landed on me. Her dark blond hair was loose around her shoulders, and she looked hot as fuck in a pair of black jeans that showed off her legs, paired with a pink sweater that was just tight enough to keep drawing my eyes to her chest.
I was trying to behave, but damn, it was hard—literally—when I was around her.
Following a lengthy hello kiss and another in front of my truck for good measure, we finally made our way into the vehicle. I waited, letting the truck idle as Bailey buckled her seat belt. Turning to me, she tucked her hair behind her ear and batted her eyelashes.
“Where’s my autographed picture, Carter?”
“My bad.” I grinned. “I guess we’ll have to hold a private photoshoot later.”
Bailey reached over to my side of the truck, poking me in the bicep. “You’re going to offer up things and not deliver them?”
I dropped my voice, giving her a look. “Oh, I can deliver.”
Her eyes widened slightly, pink lips curving into what could only be described as a flustered smile.
It was cute as hell.
She shifted her weight, biting her bottom lip. “I guess we’ll see.”
“Guess so.”
Hopefully tonight. I mean, I could be patient. Would be patient. But I could still hope, right?
Bailey had told me about her birthday debacle in great detail, including the stupid stuffy French restaurant. I hadn’t known her long, but even I knew it was the opposite of the type of restaurant she would enjoy. So I intentionally kept it low-key when it came to choosing a place and picked a little Italian restaurant near campus. It had brick walls, fireplaces burning in the corners, and candles on the tables, but it wasn’t fancy or uptight by any measure.
“This is so cute,” Bailey said as the hostess ushered us to our table.
“Yeah,” I said. “Kind of has that whole homey thing going on. Great pasta too.”
After we’d ordered appetizers and entrees, she left the table to use the bathroom, and I quickly checked my messages. Dallas had texted me several times to let me know Shiv was now homeless and would be staying with us for a while. I wrote him back, then set down my phone as Bailey returned to the table.
“Hey, I have some good news.”
She sank into her seat, placing her napkin on her lap and looking at me questioningly. “What’s that?”
“Shiv’s place burned down,” I said.
“Um.” Bailey did a double-take, blinking several times. “What?”
“Wait.” I held up my hand and shook my head. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders around her. Although I wasn’t entirely sure why. I didn’t even get nervous before games—pumped, yes, but not nervous. I could count the number of times in recent history that I’d been nervous on one hand, and they were all around Bailey.
That’s not to say it was a bad type of nervous. It was more like a massively heightened state of awareness with a dash of idiotic happiness thrown in. And maybe a pinch of plain stupidity, as evidenced by what I’d just said.
Sometimes, every shred of my game vanished around her.
“I mean, that isn’t the good part.” I grimaced. “Obviously. And it didn’t actually burn down. There was a kitchen fire in another unit, and the smoke damage to her side of the building is so extensive that she has to move out. No one was hurt or anything.”
“Phew,” Bailey said, taking a sip of ice water.
“It happened this morning, I guess, so she’s crashing with us for a few days. Ward said she’s been searching for rentals all day and having an impossible time finding a studio or one-bedroom.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t find much, either. They were either really gross or incredibly expensive.” She made a face. “You wouldn’t believe the going rates.”
“Ward also mentioned that she was thinking about trying to get a roommate because it’s cheaper to split a two-bedroom. That was the good news part. I mean, you do need a place to live…” I trailed off. “Maybe it’s meant to be.”
While it would be convenient for me if Bailey was closer to my friends, the truth was that I mostly wanted her out of her current living situation. Between Morrison showing up and the messed up secret affair between Derek and her roommate, it was toxic as hell. It left me low-key worried about her whenever she was at home.
And if Morrison showed up in her living room one more time, I might not avoid that felony again.
Bailey hummed thoughtfully. “But she probably wants to live near Boyd, right? And I need to be close to Callingwood because I don’t have a car.”
“Maybe you could find something halfway. Near the train line.” I shrugged. “A short commute might be worth it if you’re happier.”
“True.”
“It’s just a thought. Would you consider it?”
“I totally would,” she said, pressing her lips together. “But I don’t know if she would. Can you, like…float it by Dallas to have him float it by her?”
“You’re adorable.”
“What?” Bailey shrugged, her cheeks turning pink. “I don’t want to make it awkward. We’ve only met twice. Maybe she thinks I’m a weirdo.”
“I doubt that very much, James.” I squeezed her hand over the table. “But I’ll talk to him.”
Dinner went longer than I had anticipated, probably because we hadn’t run out of things to say. Two hours later, we lingered over dessert, slowly finishing a slice of raspberry cheesecake and a piece of tiramisu we’d shared.
I watched Bailey take the last bite of tiramisu, trying to keep my mind from thinking about all the dirty things I wanted to do with her mouth.
“I like that you eat,” I said. It sort of slipped out, like my internal narrative tended to. She was super tolerant of it, all things considered. Because sometimes it was random as fuck. Like right now.
“Huh?” She paused, fork hovering in midair.
“So many girls I know never seem to eat.” I shrugged, scooping up the second-to-last bite of cheesecake. “Then it makes me feel bad for eating in front of them. Like, I’m a large human being. I train every day. I need a ton of calories. It’s awkward to be the only one eating all the time, you know?”
Bailey grinned. “If you think that’s impressive, you should see me breathe. I’m world class.”
I laughed, then I caught myself staring at her for a beat longer than was probably normal. Couldn’t help it.
“What?” She leaned closer, round eyes scanning my face in the candlelight.
“Nothing,” I said. “All good.”
Was this what falling for someone felt like? It was a trip.
Once I took care of the bill, it was time for the grand finale: skating at Northview Arena. The prospect of skating and James together had me legit feeling like a kid in a candy store.
I pulled into the deserted parking lot, illuminated by pale yellow streetlamps. Grabbing a spot at the front near the doors, I eased in and killed the ignition.
“Wait.” Bailey tilted her head, studying me. “We’re skating at your rink?”
“Yup.”
Her hazel eyes narrowed suspiciously, then widened suddenly, and she let out a little gasp. “Are we breaking in?”
I unbuckled my seat belt and reached for the bag with our skates. “Is it breaking in if you have the code?”
“Well, are we allowed to be here?”
“Define allowed,” I said, hoisting the black duffel onto the middle console. “I mean, it’s a free country. We have the constitutional right to freedom of movement.”
“Carter…” She made a little eek face.
“We’re not not allowed.” I shrugged. “No one’s booked the ice. Plus, I’m on Coach Miller’s good side these days, so we should be okay.”
Bailey groaned. “So we’re definitely breaking in.”
She was such a rule-follower. Adorable.
“Public skate just ended. We have plausible deniability if we get caught, like maybe we were confused and didn’t know it was over.” I smiled innocently.
“You get out of a lot of trouble with that smile, don’t you?”
“Sure do,” I said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. Her skin was so soft, and she smelled so good…Bad idea. Now I wanted to kiss her on the mouth, and if I did that, we’d probably never make it out of the truck.
I really needed to get it together.
“Come on,” I said. “They don’t flood the rink for another two hours.”
“You’re sure?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve done it dozens of times before.”
She shot me a wary look, like I’d brought millions of girls here. The truth was, I’d never liked anyone else enough to want to take them skating, but I wasn’t sure she would find that reassuring, either.
“Alone, James. When I need to work off energy because I’m pissed off or whatever.”
“So you commit crimes habitually,” she said, fighting a smile. “Good to know.”
I winked at her. “You knew who you were getting.”
