Page 7

CHAPTER SIX

paige

Excuse me? What did he just say?

M I N E?!

That’s it. As soon as I land at my brother’s, I’m going to a walk-in to get my ears checked. Because there is no actual way Nate just called me his.

A roar erupts in my chest at the voice I’ve been trying to forget all day as he sidles up next to me. A little too close for my liking, the sleeves of his shirt are bunched around the elbows, showing off his array of tattoos.

“Hey there, Princess.” He gives me a wolfish grin I want to knock off his face. “How are you feeling after this morning? I didn’t leave you too sore, did I?”

It’s official.

He wants to die.

Someone drop my passport, I found my international incident.

“Feeling hungry, Nathan?” I level him with a hard stare, hoping he can see the volcanoes erupting behind my eyes. “Because I think you’re going to want to eat those words.”

Nate scoots even closer to me. His elbow, tattooed with a realistically styled human eye, brushes against my abundantly freckled one. I try to move away, but have nowhere to go. He gives me a quick perusal, his deep blue eyes flashing. “Never.”

One word shouldn’t have so much power, full of hidden meanings and unspoken promises. I stare at him for a beat longer than I should, at his lips. Ignoring the way my chest starts to feel warm and tight. “We’ll see about that.”

“I guess we will.” His lips start to curl up, leaning in closer. “But hypothetically, how would you do it? Tie me up, straddle my lap? Paint the image for me. I want to really know the kind of punishment I’m in for.”

“You’re insufferable.” Images flash through my mind, but instead of Nate being the one tied up, it’s me.

UGH!

Adding bleach to my shower routine when we get back to the hotel. I need to forget I ever thought that.

“You say the sweetest things to me.” Still smirking, Nate reaches up and pulls at the little pompom at the end of my Santa hat.

I smack his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Nice hat.” The smirk grows into a grin. “Although, I’m kind of surprised it didn’t burst into flames as soon as it touched your head.”

Is he calling me evil?

“I’m not the Antichrist to Christmas!” I growl, adjusting the dang thing. “I just don’t have an affinity for the day.”

“Sounds very anti-Christmas to me.”

Before I can retort, a throat clears. Tearing my gaze away from Nate, I see the bartender watching us with thinly veiled amusement, and maybe even a little jealousy.

I forgot he was here.

“Fuck you, Ford. Between you and Brooks, there aren’t going to be any redheads for the rest of us.”

My face screws up. What the fuck?

“We’re not Pokemon you can collect, perv.” I snap my fingers at him, leveling him a hard stare. “Not to mention, there is no Ford in this equation because there is no equation to begin with. I’m not his. ” I lock eyes with Nate. “I’m not yours. Tell him.”

“There you go, protesting again.” Nate clicks his tongue with a shake of his head, before turning back to the bartender.

Leaving me to simmer. Oh, I’ll give him protesting. I cock back my elbow, ready to jam it between his ribs.

But before I can, Nate catches it with his hand, holding me in his firm grip. Not even sparing me a glance as he tells the bartender, “Ignore her. She gets a little feisty.” He gestures to his head. “You know, with the hair and all. She really loves me.”

“We really need to get you a dictionary so you can start using words properly,” I grumble, trying to free my arm from his grip.

He lets me go easily, and I teeter backwards.

Nate grabs my wrist, pulling me upright before I crash into my best friend, who is still engaged with the person on the other side of her.

I don’t say thank you as I push off his hand.

Nate remains unfazed. “Anyway, the ladies will have the most expensive-cheap vodka you got back there for their sodas, and I’ll be having one of those beers.”

Nate doesn’t wait for the okay from the bartender before he reaches across the bar and snags one off the waiting tray.

The guy stares at Nate for a moment too long, and I start to get nervous. This is exactly the kind of place where people throw punches first, ask questions later.

“You’re a real dick sometimes, man,” the bartender drawls with a tight stare.

This is it, fists are about to go flying. My eyes start to close.

No, wait. They should be open.

Nate shrugs. Further proving my theory that this man has no self-preservation skills. “What if I leave you an extra twenty for every inch on said dick before I leave tonight, Johnny, to make up for it?” He holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Johnny looks unimpressed. I am, too. Nate looks as honorable as a delinquent, with his devil-may-care smile, his abundance of tattoos and double pierced ears. The little black studs wink at me.

“In fact, why wait?” Nate reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He’s changed into a pair of dark wash jeans and a gray long sleeve. A baseball cap with the Sugar Peak Resort logo sits backwards on his head.

Nate flips open the wallet and pulls out a handful of vibrantly colored bills. Canadian money is so much prettier than America’s.

My eyes widen as he starts counting. And counting. And counting.

Surely that’s not as many as I think it is…

Nate stuffs the nine twenties in the tip stocking, making it stand a little taller now, not as floppy. “You’ll get more if you get those other drinks and stop hitting on my girl here.”

“Not your girl,” I snap at him, seeing the room twinge with red. Then telling the bartender, “Not his girl.”

Johnny throws his palms up as he walks away.

Nate turns back to me. Ever delighted with himself.

“Lying before Christmas?” I click my tongue. “What will Santa say about his so-called favorite now?”

“The big man in red and I have an agreement. I’m allowed to say things that get under your skin free of consequence.”

“Hmm.” My eyes narrow. “How convenient.”

Nate flips the wallet closed. “That’s me in a nutshell. Ready at your convenience.”

I’m not going anywhere near that sentence. Time for a subject change.

“What’d you do, anyway?” I gesture towards the wallet still in his hand. “Rob a bank and can’t help but show off?”

No one really carries cash anymore.

So leave it to Nate to be different. Forever bending the norms.

“Close.” He shoves it back in his pocket, the movement bringing his chest closer to me, his familiar Irish Spring scent flirting with me. “Got paid for a social media campaign earlier this week and took a bit out of my account. Some friends and I always bet on a few rounds of darts, so I wanted to be prepared. Plus, Dick’s is cash only.”

I blanch at the last bit of his sentence. Cash only?

Mentally, I try to count the money in my wallet. Three quarters, two dimes, and a million useless pennies that I’m pretty sure Canada got rid of. That should be enough to buy me absolutely nothing.

Nate sees the panic on my face. And he’s relishing in it.

“You’re telling me the always-prepared Paige Montgomery doesn’t have any cash on her?” He smirks, leaning against the bar, giving me his full attention.

“Stop enjoying this. It’s not my fault.” But isn’t it? “You know I don’t travel outside competitions, and all those arenas are going cashless. They’ve conditioned me to think that way.”

Johnny decides that’s the moment he’s going to return, placing two glasses in front of us.

I start to tell him we have no way to actually pay for those—Kylie doesn’t even have her wallet on her, just her cards on her phone—when Nate places a hand on the small of my back, stopping me.

“I got it,” he tells me, pulling out another colorful twenty.

But I barely hear him. All my attention has diverted to the feel of his hand on my body. Electricity coils around my spine, shooting out from where his hand touches my sweater.

Fabric. Not skin. But I can feel him as if his palm kisses my flesh.

It feels different than when he grabbed my wrist or elbow earlier. More absentminded and gentle.

We are not gentle people. Never have been. Even when we skated together, it had a push and pull fight to it. Full of passion and heat.

But this touch feels so innocent, so kind.

It has short-circuited my brain. And he’s not even touching my skin!

Something is wrong with me tonight and I’m blaming it on exhaustion. Both physical and mental.

And the beard.

That damn beard.

It’s Nate, I try to tell my brain so it can get my body back on board. We don’t like him.

I swat his hand away and reach for one of the drinks. Downing half of it before I recoil, retching. “Oh my god, that tastes like rubbing alcohol.”

Nate frowns, clearly unpleased. “I thought I told Johnny to use the best cheap shit they have.” Without an invitation, he takes my glass, placing his lips where mine were and taking a sip. No reaction, like he’s drinking water. “Oh no, that’s fine. Margaret’s favorite.”

This place really is a dive.

Before I can ask who Margaret is, Kylie finally pulls herself away from the gentleman beside her.

Her eyes widen in shock when she sees who’s beside me. “Nate.”

“Kylie.” He raises his chin, tilting his beer at her, despite her less than welcoming tone.

Finding him hot is one thing, but Kylie’s loyalties will always lie with me, which means she is ten times meaner to him than me. On principle.

“I didn’t know they let deserters like you into a place like this.” Without waiting for an invitation, Kylie reaches over and grabs the other vodka soda. She sips it in appreciation. No recoil or retching. She really is in her element.

“No offense, Ky”—Nate looks around us—“but I think I fit in better than either of you.”

Silently, I have to agree. Not that I’d ever say that aloud. My allegiances lie with my best friend. So in my head is where the opinion will stay.

Nate does fit in better, though. Everything here has an edge, a celebration of imperfections, where it’s not pretending to be anything it’s not and Nate’s entire demeanor blends in much better than Kylie’s outfit that is worth hundreds of dollars and my preference for cleaner, less dingy establishments.

Just like in the lobby, there is a relaxedness to Nate here, like he doesn’t have to put on airs.

Like he can just breathe.

And I don’t think it has anything to do with the fresh mountain air, either.

This place is his home. His comfort.

So why has he never moved back?

I know on his left arm, on the inside bicep closest to his heart, he has a maple leaf with the Canadian flag decorating the inside. He loves where he’s from, but even when we skated together in the Winter Games, it was for America.

For me.

I stop the thoughts before they get much further.

“I meant more so Canada as a whole,” Kylie tells him, eyeing him distastefully over her drink.

“I’m from here.”

“Huh. And I thought we were surrounded by people of taste.” Kylie’s phone goes off and she fishes it out of her boot. Robbing Nate of a rebuttal. “Oh, this is Kev. I gotta take it. He booked the wrong flight home from my parents’ next week.”

She starts to walk away, but turns back around to lock eyes with Nate. Raising two fingers, she points them at her, then at him. A silent warning. I’m watching you.

Nate watches her go. “She really hates me, doesn’t she?”

“Were you hoping for an ally on the inside?” I reach for his beer. I’m not drinking that lighter fluid they’re trying to pass off as liquor.

“Would you hate me if I said yes?”

“Really want to give me another reason to hate you?”

He stares me at me for a beat as I take a sip of his—I mean, my beer. “Good point. New question. Seriously. How are you feeling?”

My brows furrow together. “After?”

“Your day?” Like that’s not a totally weird thing for him to be asking me.

“My entire day or just this morning?”

“Well, now that you’ve mentioned it.” He takes my beer from me, stealing a sip. “Let’s talk about this morning.”

“Let’s not.” I snatch the bottle back, downing it some more.

“You ran away before we could even finish our conversation.”

“Did you ever think that was intentional?” I point the bottle at him. “That maybe this is a conversation I don’t want to have with you. ” Or anyone. But especially Nate. “I feel like maybe you should call up Cole and you two could form an ‘I Survived Paige Montgomery Club.’”

A shadow passes over Nate’s face, taking any humor with it. “If you think I’d be part of anything like that, you haven’t been paying attention.”

My mouth falls slightly open. I haven’t been paying attention to what? The last two years? I strongly beg to differ.

Nate steals back his beer. “Or maybe I haven’t been doing a very good job at showing you where I stand. Don’t worry. I plan to make it up to you with a proposition.”

“I don’t make deals with boys with piercings.”

Nate’s lips twitch as he rubs his beard. “Good thing I’m a man.”

“Debatable,” I grumble. “Looks more like a degenerate to me.”

His smile grows, and I make the mistake of looking at his eyes. They’ve always been the richest blue color I’ve ever seen. So deep and saturated, it punctures me deep in my chest.

A simple question residing in them.

“What do you have to lose?”

“My time. My dignity. My mind.” I list each reason on a different finger. “Really, the possibilities are endless.”

“You flatter me— Fuck! ” Nate spills his beer across the bar as a small woman, no more than five-foot, barrels into him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I tripped!” Her eyes round to saucers as she sees the mess, reaching across Nate for the napkin dispenser. The movement brings her boobs very close to his eye level.

I start to make a face until I notice he’s not paying attention to her. He’s looking at me.

I raise a brow.

He shrugs as the girl starts patting down his chest. Not even focusing on where the true mess lies. On the bar.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again. Her little pats slow down until she’s just resting her hands on Nate’s chest, looking up at a man who doesn’t even spare her a glance.

I flick my eyes to his new friend, and slowly realization dawns on Nate’s face. Like he forgets she’s there at all.

I almost hate to see him look away as he gives her his infuriating smile instead of me.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he tells her gently. His large hands reach up and swallow her petite wrists before slowly pulling them off his body.

“Oh my god, you’re Nate Ford,” she gasps, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Guilty.” His smile turns blinding, and my eyes roll again with a shake of my head.

“Ahh! I can’t believe it. My friends and I are such huge fans of yours.” She points across the bar to a high top with three other girls, all staring this way with rapt attention.

Please. My eyes can’t stop rolling. They’re not even trying to hide what they’re doing.

Then again, why do I care?

They’re technically saving me from talking to Nate right now. I should be thanking them. Instead, all I feel is a swell of annoyance.

Ugh. Enough. Time to go find Kylie.

I start walking away from the bar when I hear Nate tell his groupie, “Hey, let me finish talking with my friend here, and I’ll meet you and your friends at your table in a bit.”

The one thing I will never disparage about Nate is his love for his fans. No matter what is going on, he will always make time for them.

I’m just helping with that. Spinning around, I shake my head. “Oh, no. We’re done here. Go have fun with your new friend, Nate.”

The girl beams at me.

“We’re not done, Paige.” He’s more serious than he usually is with me. He looks back down at the girl. “I’ll be right over.”

She practically skips back to her table, and I roll my eyes one more time.

Nate doesn’t watch her go as he closes the distance between us. “I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to answer me seriously. No jabs. No deflections. Just your raw honesty, okay?”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re giving me a choice.”

“What did you feel after we got done skating today?”

I want to do everything he just asked me not to do. Biting my lip, I debate ignoring his request. But there’s something inside me that can’t. Something that has always called to him.

I shift on my feet. “It felt fine.”

Better than fine, actually.

The joy, the confidence. Disconnecting my brain from my body, even for just the ten-fifteen minutes we skated around, was so freeing I almost wish I didn’t run out on him, just so we could’ve kept going.

And I hate that it came back so easily with him.

But what I hate the most is that I want to do it again.

“Will you skate with me tomorrow?” He slips his hands in his back pockets. Seemingly nervous all of a sudden.

It’s such an odd sight, an emotion I don’t often associate with him, that I almost don’t hear his question. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? Because you might like it too much? We’re not training, Paige. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Nate—”

“If you skate with me tomorrow, I will leave you alone for the rest of your trip. I won’t seek you out, and if we end up in the same vicinity, I’ll leave. I won’t ruin your vacation any more than I have. Just skate with me, Paige. Skate with me one last time.”

I should say no. It’s the easier option. The safer option. But maybe if I say yes, I’ll heal the part of me that has forgotten what it’s like to have fun. What it’s like to skate without burdens again. The part that I desperately miss.

I sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll be at the rink the same time tomorrow if you want to meet me there…”

Nate shakes his head. “I want to take you somewhere else. Somewhere more private.”

Um… “Why? Let’s just skate at the rink.”

“Because I’ve wanted to show you this place for over twelve years, and if I’m only going to get one more day with you in this town, I’m not going to let it go to waste.”

There’s something about his words. The earnestness in them. I don’t owe Nate this, but I can give him it. Even if he doesn’t deserve my time. And I can do this for me. For our past. “Okay.”

His head perks up. “Okay?”

“Okay.” I nod. “But don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t.” His grin is blinding. Cocky. “It’s a date, then.”

“It’s not a date,” I tell him sharply.

All he does is smirk. “We’ll see.”

Maybe he’s starting to get glaucoma like his grandma, Betty. I peer over his shoulder. “Better get going. Your fan club is waiting.”

Nate looks over at the giggling girls, then returns to me. “Want me to ask them for an application for you?”

I gag. “I’d rather die.”

“Careful with that noise, Princess. Might have a degenerate like me get the wrong idea.” Before I can ask what he means, he leans in close to whisper, “Or else I might find myself imaging if you’d make the same gagging noise when your mouth is around my cock.”

Heat brushes across my face, my chest as I shove him away. “You wish.”

“Every night, sweetheart.” Not even looking the least bit shameful, Nate takes a step back, a satisfied grin gracing his obnoxiously handsome face. “See you tomorrow. And in my dreams tonight.”

I flip him off, but as I turn around, there’s a small smile on my face.

What am I getting myself into?