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26

JESS

As the winter thaws into spring, it’s hard not to notice that Liam’s blue-gray eyes have been looking more like the sunrise sky in the morning.

But I’m trying not to pay attention because what started as an abiding tolerance of the man, turned into friendliness, morphed into flirting, and is now something I can’t quite define.

The more he grows in his relationship with his son, the more I lose my footing. It’s like I’m floating. When they hold hands, laugh, play. Forget turning into mush. I dissolve.

I make a buttermilk Bundt cake with caramel icing for Gracie’s book club. Everyone devours it, but instead of discussing the small-town romantic comedy with a big-city developer who wants to bulldoze the place before she comes face to face with an attractive contractor who’s trying to revitalize it, they talk about their real lives.

Not having much to contribute, I mostly listen, then Meg, whose husband used to play for the Knights but recently retired, asks me, “Your son looks to be around the same age as Milo. Maybe we can schedule a playdate.”

“My son?” I stutter.

I glimpse Cara’s stricken expression before it disappears, and she asks, “She means the little boy who you nanny.”

“Oh, KJ.”

“How do you manage being Liam’s personal assistant and being a nanny?” Delaney asks.

I sputter. “Um, well, there’s a lot of overlap.”

“I’m shocked The Beast doesn’t terrify him,” Whitney says.

“He’s a really good dad,” I blurt, realizing they didn’t officially know about the KJ-Liam connection.

Recently, he’s more than made up for his shortcomings early on. They draw lines between the dots in stunned silence.

I try to fill in the space. “I’m just the nanny. Liam’s assistant. Basically a work wifey.”

“I don’t think that’s how you use that phrase,” Gracie says gently.

Of course, I think about how I almost became Rexlan’s wife which would’ve been the biggest mistake of my life, and how Rex’s sister is Liam’s ex, which makes Pamberlie KJ’s mom. I had no idea she had a kid. I want to hide behind a bookshelf, but this is a romance bookstore so there’s no escaping the tangled webs we weave—or in this case the ones other people tie together. They sure could use lessons from Grandma Dolly. She’s a talented fiber worker and denier of drama.

Heidi slowly shakes her head and says, “Liam has a kid. He’s a father. Darcy is a dad.”

As the truth takes shape in their minds, they seem to catch up with this reality, gaining momentum, and everyone contributes to the big reveal that hockey’s biggest beast is a dad.

“We voted him least likely to ever request my wedding planning services,” Margo says.

The girls start giggling about #MrDarcysAbs.

My cheeks go up in flames, so of course, Cara notices.

While they’re seeding the bracket for winning abdominals, she asks, “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“Thanks again for the job. You were right. Liam needed help. I’ve been saving up to move, so I’ll probably give my notice soon.” The words and my not-even par-cooked plan comes out robotically, sloppily.

Cara’s face falls. “Please stay in Cobbiton. I’ll miss you too much. Who’ll be my cake dealer?” She bounces in her seat. “Please open a cakery. A cake bakery. You can call it Jess-i-cakes! Like Pat-a-Cake, the nursery rhyme!”

“I don’t know the first thing about running a bakery. Plus, there’s already the Busy Bee.”

“That’s also a coffee shop.”

“Coffee and I come as a package deal.”

“If we’re not going to talk about cakes, let’s discuss crushes,” Cara says with an enthusiastic shimmy.

I do a double take because that’s not the direction our conversation should go.

All at once, everyone in the room asks variations of, “Do you have a crush on Liam?”

I didn’t think my cheeks could get any redder, but they fall right off the color wheel. When I don’t respond, everyone squeals.

“I knew it!” Delaney proclaims, hopping to her feet.

“Me too,” Whit says, smug.

Gracie says, “I owe Vohn a kiss. That was the bet prize. Not that I’m complaining. He knew something was going on with his defenseman. He was right.”

Whit chortles. “Figures one grump would recognize it in another.”

Margo shakes her head. “Beau didn’t say a word.”

“The guy keeps things close to the vest,” Cara says.

I start to creep away because it truly is time for me to hide. I may have a thick skin, but the idea of an entire hockey team talking about me having a crush on someone is too much. But how did they know?

I ask Cara, “Did you talk about me to Pierre and then he blabbed?”

“My lips were sealed. Bestie code. But he was one hundred percent sure Liam had a crush …”

I blink a few times as her words slowly settle. “Liam doesn’t have crushes or emotions. He’s made of metamorphic rock. You mean that I have a crush on him.”

They all shake their heads from side to side.

Cara says, “It’s cool if you do, but the bet was about him having a crush on you .”

This time they all nod.

“That can’t be. He tolerates me at best. I mean, maybe we’re friends.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Possibly flirted once or twice. But—” I don’t know why I want him to like me. It’s as if ever since I worked my way out of self-imposed solitary confinement, I can’t tolerate people not liking me.

I say, “Liam doesn’t think of me that way. At all. And has made it abundantly clear.”

“Or a-Bundt-antly? Didn’t he ask you to make him a cake?” Cara asks with a laugh.

The happy squeals reach the highest of decibels.

When the clamor dies down, I say, “Even if I did have a crush on him or he had one on me, crushes are fleeting. It’ll go away.” And so will I because I can’t handle the disappointment of staying in Cobbiton and having my smile wiped off my face and my heart torn out of my chest. Everyone leaves me. Liam will too.

“Or you both might fall,” Whit says.

“Or it could be a rebound,” I say, thinking out loud when I should probably keep this to myself.

By way of explanation, Cara says, “Jess is a jilted bride.”

Gracie rubs her hands together. “A real-life tale of romance, do tell.”

I give them the barebones overview of Rexlan, but of course, they want all the details, which brings us back around to the present day with Liam. But there’s only so much I can say right now as I unravel the knots I’ve tied myself in about my feelings for this man. I keep much of what came before my return to Cobbiton to myself … for now.

“We have a professional relationship. I’m just confused. Can’t possibly have a crush. Even if one of us does, he’ll do something dumb or I’ll smile too much and—” I slap my hands together. “Blam, it’ll be over.”

“Newsflash, it could grow stronger.” Delaney describes how things went with her and Hayden.

That’s when I realize that maybe my feelings for Liam have graduated from a crush to something more. But what? I’ve never felt this way before. Not about any previous boyfriend, of which I can count on one hand, and certainly not about Rexlan.

But what is it?

Cara squeals. “When you think about him is it like all those warm, cuddly, cozy feelings but enhanced like on the jumbo screen at the arena?”

I stare dumbly at her, wondering if she read my mind or if I’m so far gone I have one of those screens above my head, advertising my feelings, complete with pulsing little love hearts.

Margo adds, “Is he all you can think about?”

Pfft. As if. “He’s my boss, so he’s often on my mind.”

Gracie asks, “Does he stretch a lot?”

“He’s an athlete.”

“I mean like put his arm across the back of your chair? Lean in the doorframe, surreptitiously flexing?” Gracie lifts and lowers her eyebrows.

Yes, actually, but his muscles are probably tight.

“When your skin brushes his does it feel like it left a mark that you can’t ignore?” Leah asks with a sigh.

I swallow. “He’s left-handed so we bump each other a lot.”

Whit wears a mischievous smile. “Those little tingles inside lead to heart flutters which lead to feeling like you’re floating away.”

The girls giggle.

My phone beeps, but I ignore it. Another text follows and I check in case it’s the guy I want to simultaneously tell myself I’m not thinking about and trying to decide what kind of cake I should bake for him. Maybe that’s my measuring tool. Then again, I bake for the likes of Mrs. Kirby.

Instead, it’s Rexlan. I ignore the message as the conversation shifts from my so-called crush to the girls discussing the big gala coming up. The Knights are being honored with the Huckle-Strout Award and they all have to attend after a game in Colorado.

Cara describes her formal dress in a sapphire hue with a ruffled skirt that she’ll wear with her mother’s pearls.

“We have a dog sitter arranged,” Margo says.

“It’ll be nice to travel. I haven’t been to an away game in far too long,” Delaney adds.

“Did Liam get you a dress?” Cara asks.

“I already arranged for KJ to stay with Grandma Dolly for the two nights we’ll be gone, but I’m only joining Liam in an administrative capacity.”

“Then why did he ask Hayden my dress size?” Delaney asks.

“Because he wanted to get punched in the face?” I hazard a guess, thinking of the way Liam reacted when Grimaldi breathed in my direction. Okay, he called me baby and said some stupid things too, but Liam probably didn’t want me getting distracted.

Delaney smirks. “No, he asked because you and I are about the same height and weight.”

I’m not sure how the conversation escalated from the girls asking about KJ to accurately intuiting my crush on Liam, claiming he has one on me, and now masterminding our big takeover of Denver, but here we are.

I can’t help but think about the last time I wore a gown and in one big avalanche of words, I tell everyone the details I’d withheld about being a jilted bride … and the lizard cult.

They look at me in wide-eyed silence.

Seated closest to me, Gracie pats my arm and says, “Darlin’, you’re safe here.”

Cara says, “Where do you find these people?”

I shrug. “I’m just really friendly.”

“Or you attract them like stray cats, er, lizards.”

Whit, as sharp as a whip, talks about self-worth and boundaries, bad relationships, and the good ones to hang onto.

Cara grips my arm. “That’s why we can’t let you wander off to another square state.”

“What’s wrong with Wyoming?” I mentioned the possibility of moving there this summer last time we texted after I saw a social media ad for a dude ranch that was hiring.

“Nothing, but maybe don’t be so eager to leave,” Cara says.

If I don’t make a move first, everyone else is bound to make their exit. This has been true all my life.

Ella says, “I wasn’t sure what to think of Cobbiton when I first got here, but even with its quirks, I don’t think you’ll find any lizard cults.”

“Just fans of hockey.”

“And corn.”

“Plus, you have a great job,” Cara chimes.

The goal is to save up and then find the place where I belong with the people I belong to. As the conversation shifts to the Hockey Days event Leah is planning for next year, I guess being back in Cobbiton isn’t the worst … for now.

After I promise to bake a Bundt for the next book club, I head over to the loft. A large white box sits on the table. The tag with the satin ribbon has my name on it.

I open the lid and tears threaten, then fall. My shoulders shake because the last time I wore a gown was to my wedding that wasn’t.

A little hand silently slides into mine before I realize Liam and KJ are home. I squeeze his hand and hug him before he scatters to play with his new Legos. He’s building an arena—yes, already. The kid is going places. Hockey majors, probably the Hall of Fame.

Liam strides over and concern lashes his features.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asks.

I nod while saying, “No.”

The man looks murderous. “Yes? No? Which is it?”

This is the second time I’ve fallen apart in front of this man, but in this instance, it’s not because of the past. Rather, in the very near future, I’m afraid someone is going to get their heart broken and her name starts with the letter J.

My phone beeps and I ignore it in favor of the hug. Whatever Rexlan wants will have to wait. Possibly forever because with sunshine and sparkles on my side, I’m going to see this through until the crush goes away. Or Liam realizes that I’m just a silly girl with stars in her eyes and leaves me, the same as everyone else. Like Gracie’s love stories, it will come to an end.

But the kiss he presses to my forehead when my tears stop, tells me I don’t want it to.

* * *

After more than a few goodbye hugs with KJ and Grandma Dolly, Liam and I leave for Colorado.

“Did you bring the dress?” he asks when we’re already in the air.

“Yes, boss.”

His lips form a thin line. “Are you going to wear it?”

“Are you going to use your manners?”

He looks at me blankly as if so pre-programmed to disconnect from the potential for emotion, he has forgotten how to operate like a human.

The girls were wrong. He does not have a crush on me.

“We can try ASL.”

“Let’s speak first. I’m still learning.”

“Okay, it goes like this. If you want a woman to attend an event with you and wear a gown, you have to ask her, politely. Preferably with a little flair.”

“Flair?”

“I’m not talking about kissing the top of her hand and getting down on one knee.”

With bulging, animated eyes, as if seeing me for the first time, he says, “Oh.”

“Have you been evaluated by the team physician? I’m not making this into a joke, but did you take a puck to the head?”

His expression softens. “No, Jessica. I don’t want to scare you off. I realize the gown may have been too much too soon, given the witch bride attire in your old car’s trunk.”

I lean back in the cushy first-class seat, doing my best not to be alternately fascinated, distracted, and terrified since this is my first time flying. Liam said it’s no big deal. Yeah. Okay. Same as all these emotions I’m experiencing. No biggie. It’s just an ordinary Tuesday. Carry on, folks.

So, it turns out that he’s not as out of touch as I thought. “New rule. Let’s communicate. Use our words. Say all the things.”

The side of his top lip curls like he’s accepting this challenge. As if it’s a dare. “All the things.”

“Yes, all the things.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Liam. I am sure. Hearing you say all the things is far preferable to sitting in silence, wondering, pondering, speculating.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he murmurs.

But he doesn’t say all the things. Not for the remainder of the flight and not during the luxury SUV ride to the posh hotel. Not when we’re alone in the elevator or in the hallway when we reach the end and our respective doors, standing opposite each other.

I sigh.

“Can I come in?” He gestures to the door behind me.

“You want to come into my hotel room?”

“I’ve stayed here before. The view is spectacular. Looks like I’m on the street side. You get the mountains.”

“Yeah, sure.” I let him in and he strides right to the balcony.

I follow because he wasn’t kidding. The immense snowcapped peaks spilling into lush evergreen hills are breathtaking.

And the moment he lays eyes on those jagged mountains topped with snow, the bandage is ripped off. Liam Ellis does not stop speaking for the next thirty minutes as the sun sets and the stars blink little night lights in the sky. I hear about how he grew up in Brookking Sound, a small coastal town in Canada, playing hockey as a kid, and cycling through two teams before finding his way to Nebraska.

From nearby, paper lanterns glow and then one by one float upward. Liam’s arm slides over my shoulders, gripping me snugly to his side. I lean into him. Even though he’s practically made of marble, there’s a softness to this gesture.

Maybe actions and words speak in harmony.

As more and more lanterns float aloft, amounting to at least a few dozen, I say, “I wanted those at the wedding, but Sorsha said it would disturb the lizard gods since they’re nocturnal and all. Then, she added them to her website for a mere ninety-nine dollars a piece to release as an offering to the skinks. She sourced them from China for like ninety-nine cents each.”

“I’m so glad you were a jilted bride.”

“That’s not—” I start to say, but stop myself. “Yeah, me too.”

Liam says, “Back home, the town does this on New Year’s Eve. It’s been ages since I’ve gone.”

“Brookking Sound sounds like a nice place.”

“I want you to go there.”

“Maybe someday. It’s probably not too far from Wyoming.”

He chuckles. “It’s like the opposite direction going west to east. But I’d like you there with me. At the end of the month. We have a game in Toronto, so we’ll be somewhat nearby.”

I’m looking into the distance where the glowing orbs seem to meet the stars, but feel warmth on my skin. Liam gazes at me. I turn slightly to face him.

He opens and closes his mouth. If I didn’t know better, I’d say his cheeks darken, but it’s hard to tell out here.

“Jessica?” Liam asks.

“Yes,” I say, but it’s more of an answer to the question I sense he’s asking.

Then his lips land lightly on mine.

I inhale his soapy scent. Feel the sweep of his stubble on my skin. Absorb his warmth.

It’s a brief kiss. Just our mouths brushing. But my heart is pounding. The crush is tumbling, down, down, down like a snowball gaining momentum until it reaches the bottom of the hill. Then, like one of the paper lanterns, it glows, sails into the air, and dances with the stars.

He draws back and the light dims but doesn’t go dark.

What just happened? I don’t ask. Don’t use my words. Neither does he. Maybe because there’s no logical explanation.

After Liam leaves to meet with the team to prepare for the game tomorrow, my fingers press to my mouth where I feel the still-present sensation of his lips on mine, like he left a permanent impression.