Just as I’d suspected, we beat Dallas and Siobhan to his parents’ place. We had time to pick up takeout and eat said takeout once we got to the cabin. I even had time to eat Bailey for dessert and get her into the hot tub after.
Naked.
With, of course, the caveat that Ward would text me when they were fifteen minutes out so we had time to get decent.
Steam from the water rose in the cool night air, and stars blanketed the sky above us, far more vibrant than in the city. The colored light in the hot tub changed in a slow, continuous pattern, tinting the water all the shades of the rainbow and back again. It was silent aside from the jets of the hot tub bubbling.
Bailey nestled against my chest, and we fell into an easy, comfortable silence. I was relaxed beyond belief…until today’s date hit me. I’d been so absorbed in hockey, the tape scandal, and all my own shit from the past week that I hadn’t connected the dots.
Shifting, I set my amber bottle of beer in the drink holder beside me. “Weren’t you supposed to hear about the internship this week?”
True to my brand, the words slipped out before I could think them through, and regret hit me square in the face immediately after. Was it a mistake to bring it up now, when the moment was so perfect otherwise? In this case, I guessed that no news was bad news and Bailey didn’t want to tell me.
“Um, I did hear, actually.” Bailey reached over and turned down the jets. She peered up at me, her eyes dancing in the twilight. “I got it.”
Cool relief washed over me. Fucking finally, we had something to celebrate for a change.
“James, that’s incredible.” I kissed her temple, smelling the hint of chlorine from the water on her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She gave a one-shoulder shrug and tucked a stray strand of hair back into her bun. “I found out this afternoon. I was waiting until after the game to tell you. But then Stewart called, and it didn’t seem like the right time in light of the news he gave you, so…”
“Are you kidding?” I tilted her chin up so we were eye to eye. “I always want to hear your good news. Though I knew you’d get it.”
Bailey broke away from my gaze and ducked her head. She was so much more modest than she should have been. If I could slice off a chunk of my ego and give it to her, we’d both be set. But I’d settle for pumping her tires any chance I got.
“Yeah, they were sold when I pitched my article about toxic masculinity in team sports. They want to run it as a front-page feature on the site.”
My chest swelled with an irrational sense of pride then, even though I’d done nothing more than cheer her on and be her occasional sounding board.
“That’s awesome.”
“Yup.” She grinned. “They want it by the end of next week. I should start working on it soon, but I figured we both needed the weekend off.”
“At a minimum.” A month off—together—would have been even better. Maybe this summer.
“Can I interview you as a source?” Bailey took a sip of her beer, watching me from the corner of her eye. I tried not to get distracted by the way her lush lips looked wrapped around the glass bottle. And failed.
“Absolutely not.”
Her face fell. “Really?”
“Kidding.” I put my hand on her thigh beneath the water and stroked my thumb over her soft skin. “I’ll make all the guys on the team tell you anything you want to know too.”
She arched a blond brow, clearly fighting to keep a straight face. “Not sure coercion is the best way to get sources, Carter.”
“Psh, no one needs to know.”
From beside my drink, my cell phone lit up with an update from Ward. At least his trademark terrible timing hadn’t struck again.
“They’re twenty minutes away,” I said. “Want to get out and hit the shower?” We’d been in for a while, anyway, and the heat was going to my head. But all the knots in my muscles had finally melted away.
“Sure.”
Once I’d hauled myself out of the water, I grabbed two thick white towels from the nearby chair and handed one to her. Bailey climbed out and wrapped it around her chest. The heat had caused her cheeks to flush so deeply it was visible even in the dim glow from the tub’s light. The sight of her like that paralyzed me in awe, and all I could do was stare. How did I get so lucky?
“What?” Her lips curled into a half smile.
Busted.
“You’re just beautiful, that’s all.”
After we got cleaned up, we played several rounds of Cards Against Humanity with Ward and Siobhan, where he defended his reigning title as Worst Loser Ever.
“You guys have no taste,” he grumbled, putting the cards away.
From behind him, Shiv rolled her eyes. She padded into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bottle of champagne in hand.
Dallas glanced up. “Where’d you find that?”
“Wine fridge,” she said. “Is Stewart going to be mad if we open it?”
“Nah, they have parties here all the time, and people bring more booze than they could ever drink.” He opened his palm, gesturing for her to pass it to him. “Just let me make sure it’s not crazy expensive.” He scanned the label, brow furrowed. “We’re good. Go nuts.”
“What are we celebrating?” Bailey asked, following her into the kitchen. She retrieved four champagne glasses from a high cabinet.
To be fair, we were all half-cut and probably didn’t need the extra alcohol. But YOLO.
“You never need an excuse for champagne.” Shiv pointed to her with the bottle. “But you did get the scholarship, which is a big deal, right?”
“Need help with that, Shiv?” Dallas asked, eyeing her warily. I drained the last of my beer, weighing the odds of this going wrong.
“I’m an old pro.”
Somehow, that didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in me. Loved Shiv, but she was four drinks deep and built like Tinkerbell.
Shiv cut away the foil from around the neck of the bottle, then grabbed a white kitchen towel and pulled on the cork.
“Are you sur—” At the same time Dallas asked, her hand slipped, and the cork shot out of the bottle, sailing clear across the room. With a crash, it shattered a turquoise pendant light over the island.
Luckily, the four of us remained unscathed.
Siobhan turned, eyes wide, then looked back at the broken light fixture. Bailey’s expression was much the same. Champagne foam poured out of the bottle, spilling onto the floor, but she was too focused on the broken light dangling awkwardly from the ceiling.
“Um…is Stewart going be mad about that?”
Dallas shook his head, giving her a rueful smile as he fought back laughter. “No, that one’s on me. No more tipsy Siobhan opening champagne bottles.”
Bailey walked out of the bathroom in a set of dark gray pajama shorts and a tank top. She was all legs and all kinds of hot. Maybe we didn’t need to go right to bed.
“I know it’s late,” she said, “but I’m kind of wired. Can we stay up and snuggle for a bit?”
“Sure.” I slid over to make room for her beside me in the bed and wrapped my arm around her. Then a thought popped into my head, probably fueled by too many drinks and a long-standing, nagging curiosity.
“James?” I stroked her hair gently.
“Yeah?”
“This will sound a little out of left field, but I keep thinking about it. What happened when you were younger? Your brother said something about medical bills. I don’t want to pry, but you usually tell me everything.”
Bailey squirmed beside me like she was suddenly uncomfortable. There was a pause. “A bad car accident.”
My gut twisted at the thought. She had already dealt with so much in her life. I hated knowing this happened to her. “How bad?”
“Um…” She drew in a breath. “I had a concussion. Bruised ribs. Broke my femur.”
“Holy shit.” My hand froze. “A broken femur is a big deal.”
“Yeah, I was in a wheelchair for a while. My dad took a leave of absence from work to take care of me. But the person who hit us was underinsured, so it was an issue financially.”
Damn, she’d had so many bad breaks—no pun intended—that sometimes I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to fix every one, even when it wasn’t possible.
“Is that why you stopped playing hockey?” I asked carefully.
“No, that was a money thing…before the accident.”
My chest tightened like it was in a vise. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s how I ended up at Callingwood. Wanted to go to USC. Got accepted. Couldn’t afford it. Even with loans, it wasn’t workable.” Bailey cleared her throat the way she always did when emotions hit her and she was trying to hide it. “It’s a really prestigious program too. Kind of disappointing.”
She was downplaying that.
“Bet they have a good grad program.”
“They do.” She nodded thoughtfully and sat up, turning to face me. Uncertainty stretched across her face. “I’ve been thinking about grad school lately. If I can get in, I mean.”
See, there she went again with the misplaced modesty. If she couldn’t get into a good grad program, there was no hope in hell for anyone else.
“You know you have the grades for it, James.”
Her lips pulled into a tiny smile. “Maybe. But USC’s grad program is even harder to get into than their undergrad.”
“Either way, I’m sure there are lots of good journalism schools in California. Especially within the greater Los Angeles area.”
“That’s true,” she murmured, her smile broadening. “There are a few.”
“I wonder if there are any other selling points to California.”
Bailey shifted her weight and rose onto her knees. Placing her palms on my shoulders, she straddled my waist. “Hmm, I wonder. Warm weather is a plus. No more shoveling snow or dealing with snow boots would be nice.”
“The weather, huh?” I squeezed her ass, and she giggled.
“Good shopping? Rodeo Drive or whatever it’s called?”
“I can’t remember the last time you went shopping.”
“Celebrity sightings…? I hear they have tour buses that take you to see the Kardashians’ house.”
My hands bracketed her waist, sneaking under the hem of her shirt. “Keep digging, James.”
“What else?” She sighed and pursed her lips, staring off like she was deep in thought. Her focus landed back on me, her expression turning shy. “Well, I do know this cute guy who’s moving to California after graduation.”
“Just cute?”
“Handsome. Sweet. Dynamite in bed.” She paused. “He’s one in a million, really.”
“Question is, will you be coming with me?”
A rush of nerves ran through me like never before. I held my breath, waiting for her response.
Bailey ducked her head, bringing her mouth to hover over mine. “One hundred percent.”
