Page 9

nine

Noah

To allow Paisley privacy to rest, we tiptoe outside to the patio, where there are two padded lawn sofas with a gas firepit in the middle. It’s wonderful to have time to sit and do nothing as we joke around, and I lose track of time. We are finishing a pizza when Paisley pads outside in her socks, her flannel blanket wrapped around her like a taco.

Sophie spots her first, her forehead creasing as if she’s astonished to see her walking upright. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a zombie. I don’t even remember coming here.” Paisley blinks, and motions to the pizza. “Any chance I can grab a slice?”

“Go ahead and help yourself. That might help you feel more coherent.” Sophie nods to the side table that’s stacked with pizza delivery. “Axl ordered, so everything has lots of meat and nothing green.”

Using her good arm, Paisley slowly peels out a slice from the first box and takes a bite while standing. She’s sure never shy about eating.

“I almost think you had a reaction to your meds.” Axl’s expression is neutral. “There is no reason you should have been that out of it, unless they gave you the wrong dosage.”

“You could be a lightweight,” Sophie adds. “That’s how I am. I never need more than one baby Aspirin.”

“Yep, you are a cheap date.” Axl’s lips turn up as he teases her.

She ignores him and motions to the empty seat on the sofa next to me. “Take a seat,” she tells Paisley.

I’m unusually quiet as I watch her. It’s clear by the way she wobbles forward that she’s still feeling the effects of her medicine, but it doesn’t seem to be as bad as before. At least she’s no longer slurring her words. It’s hard to forget about the random stuff she blurted out. Like, she talked about kissing the whole drive home. I doubt she remembers saying that, but it left a few ideas in my head. Now I have an even deeper awareness of her nearness. As soon as she plops down next to me, I have to bounce my leg.

Sophie leans casually to engage Paisley. “How is your article going?”

Paisley’s lashes lower like she forgot she is awake before springing wide. “I got it done under the deadline right before we left this morning, and that’s about all I care about.”

“How does that work with your internship?” Axl chimes in. “Are you leaving Mapleton or did Tight ol’ Bill offer you a job?”

Paisley shakes her head. “I would love a full-time job offer, but nothing yet.”

“Well, if you don’t get a job offer, it’s nothing against you.” Her soft scent pulls me closer, and I place my arm on the back of the sofa. “Bill has this thing where he won’t hire interns. He likes people to have more experience.”

“Nah,” Axl mouths off. “He’s cheap and wants another free intern.”

“With some things, but you have to remember that she isn’t Bill’s intern in the first place.” I nod, not the least offended for Bill, because it’s absolutely true. Even though Bill is rich, he’s always been aware of every penny he spends, which is part of the reason he’s rich. Not to mention that Paisley was never his employee in the first place, so he won’t feel any sense of loyalty to keep her around.

“You can’t deny we have the lowest salaries in the AHL.” Axl’s already finished his pizza, and he’s leaning forward, warming his hands near the fire. It’s hypnotic to watch the flame swirl around, as it cackles and sparks.

“We are also in last place, so there’s that.” Most of the time I agree with the guys, but as far as salaries go, it’s a math problem. Ticket sales bring in income, and while we keep losing, people aren’t buying. “Here’s the thing.” I never planned on being Bill’s cheerleader, but having lived with him for the last year, I have seen a side to him the rest of the guys miss out on. I focus on Paisley as I do my best to clarify again why she likely won’t be getting a job offer. “It’s a long story, but Bill never wanted to own a hockey team. He wanted to play, and he had the talent and the chance to play in the NHL. He only made it a year before he blew out his back. That should have been the end of it, but he blames his injury solely on one person—Blake Anton—an ex-teammate who he swears sabotaged him. They always had a rivalry.”

Paisley jerks back, her eyes spring open, and I pause as she appears to wobble in her seat. “Are you okay?” I place my hand on her shoulder, rationalizing that it’s just the meds.

“Ah, yeah. I’m totally fine.” Her eyes grow wider yet, but she is silent.

I continue, “It’s been years of back and forth, as they faced off for many board positions and even real estate. He’ll never admit it out loud, but I suspect Granite Ice was one of the schemes he cooked up to get ahead of Blake. Starting an AHL team might have been going too far because he didn’t do it properly to raise capital. It’s been a huge drain on his bank account, but you have to hand it to him because he doesn’t give up. None of the rivalry makes sense to me. Yeah, he’s annoying at times, but aside from being my boss, he’s also my stepdad and he’s been really good to my mom and me.”

Paisley’s jaw drops so low it looks as if it lost a hinge.

Sophie and Axl both stare at me, as this isn’t the first time they got a mouthful from me about Bill. After a long beat of silence that Paisley makes no attempt to break, Sophie speaks up. “It doesn’t matter. You get to play hockey.”

The conversation breaks into side conversations when Sophie tells Paisley about her new shoes. Eventually Axl and Sophie disappear inside and off to bed, leaving Paisley, who is fully rested from her nap, and me alone.

“How are you feeling?” I reposition myself again, as I can’t seem to get comfortable with her so close to me. It’s like my body knows she’s there, sparking this magnetic pulse. I want to reach out and hold her, but that’s clearly skipping a step.

“A lot better now that I ate. I was so hungry I hardly tasted it.” She’s wide-eyed, in the middle of a weird stony stare. It piques my nerves a little, as I can tell something is off. The unsettling light in her eyes avoids my gaze.

I sip on my cocoa and let out a slow sigh. “Sorry that I coerced you into coming. I guess I never even asked if you liked skiing.”

“Don’t apologize.” Her tone is serious and dark, void of sarcasm and even the newer flirty inflections I expect from her, but what she says next brings me mixed vibes. “I wanted to hang out with you.”

She levels her gaze with mine, and it yields so much force I didn’t doubt it could power the entire city of Mapleton. She sways a little toward me. I’m not a doctor but I suspect that has nothing to do with her injury or her medication.

I scoot a bit closer to her. “I’m glad you came, but I’m feeling guilty about putting so much pressure on you to ski. I hope you know you can be honest with me.” I scratch the back of my head, when her expression grows distant again. She seems to be in and out of concentration. “Is there something wrong?”

Her lashes waver again, before her gaze drops. Something is up with her. I risk a dumb joke to make her laugh. “Hey, is the sky still up there?”

Her gaze whips back to me, and her eyes narrow into a confused wince. “What?”

“Is the sky up there?”

“It hasn’t fallen yet, if that’s what you are implying.” She leaks out a sarcastic snort, her gaze finds mine, and it’s a bit of a lazy look. “You’re unreal.”

“It made you laugh.” I give her my mischievous grin, proud I lifted the mood.

She sputters out another chuckle. I pause to stare into Paisley’s fiery eyes as they glint smoky hues of blue. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and it blows my mind how one person can change your life so fast.

I lean a little bit closer, and she doesn’t pull back. Her warmth kindles all around me. She’s near-kissing close, and just the simple thought of kissing sends my anxiety to full throttle as I struggle to move. Instead of continuing the conversation, we freeze together.

Her muted sweet scent wafts under my nose, igniting a rumble in my chest. There’s only one thing I want to do. My gaze shifts from her eyes to her lips. When she still doesn’t move, I consider that an invitation, leaning closer until I seal my lips to hers.

My heart releases a constriction.

After hearing her talk about kissing all afternoon, it’s the biggest relief to kiss her.

She quickly slaps her palms on my chest and pushes away from me, her brow lowering into a stare a parent would give a child who was caught red-handed with stolen cookies. Her breathless words rush out, “My father is Blake Anton.”

Blinking, my head jolts back. My lips are firing all the tingles, and I struggle to feel my face. It’s all gone numb. She wrecked our amazing moment with her horrid timing for admissions.

Blake Anton.

Thud.

She couldn’t have said anything more terrifying than that.

I blink, and my memories race. Never once do I remember hearing her last name. How did I miss that?

Sweat slathers my lower back, and I let out a giant sigh of distress.

If there was one thing Bill taught me—and he taught me a lot—he insists that Blake Anton is evil. There’s no way Bill or Blake will ever accept any situationship between Paisley and me.

“Talk about an ill-timed confession.” I run my fingertips over my lips, glad they are still there. I can’t feel them, and I murmur, “Why would you blurt that out now?”

“I knew Bill was your boss, but I had no idea you were related to him.” Her breathless heap of words tumbles out. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it ever since you mentioned it.”

I’m still holding her, and every drop of blood coursing through my veins is screaming this is so much more complicated than I could have ever thought.

My entire job exists solely because Bill wants to get revenge on her dad. There’s a collective moment of sobriety where we both seem to hold our breath, and it lasts for several long, agonizing minutes before I do something I would have never seen coming. I finally draw the mental boundary I’ve been waiting to make for so many years.

This is where I finally make decisions for myself.

I announce as if I’m proclaiming an oath. “Paisley, I don’t care about your dad, or Bill. I honestly don’t care about anyone but you.”

As if to seal my convictions, I lower my lips to press a kiss on her lips. It’s impossible not to kiss her when she’s in my arms.

As I pull away, a visible swallow clears her throat, and she looks back at me with pining fire in her eyes. Her lips are pinched before her words fall out. “I’m sorry that it never came up. Are you mad?”

The thing is . . . Blake is Bill’s enemy. Not mine. I’ve never actually met the guy. Bill can be awfully dramatic about things.

I shift my hand to her chin, tipping it up. My heart skips a beat that she allows me to do that. What is happening between us feels right. To worry about anything else—especially since all that drama is not even about us—is a waste of my energy. “I’m not mad,” I assert. “Maybe a little shocked, but I’m not letting Bill or Anton ruin our weekend.” As I rest my chin on her head, soaking up the warmth that wafts off her body, I can’t help but let my mind wander.

I mean, Bill isn’t going to be happy, and he has a way of getting what he wants, but nothing REALLY bad can happen . . . right?

I’ve always been an early riser, but I don’t think I slept at all, my mind too excited as I replayed our kiss—over and over. My foot bounces under my blanket, reminding me I’ve now missed two doses of meds. I ignore it, choosing to instead think about our kiss some more.

Maybe I got the timing wrong?

But I don’t regret it.

It seemed like we were dangerously close to locking each other into the friend zone if something didn’t happen soon. I know she felt the magnetism I did. After stressing about it for another solid ten minutes, I know I’ll never settle down. I get up and head to the kitchen, hoping to find some coffee I can make.

Two steps into the living room, and I startle to see Paisley propped up on the living room recliner, fully asleep. Her head leans to one side, supported by a thin pillow folded in half. One foot is on the recliner footrest. The other leg is kicked over the armrest, dangling down. The faintest little snoring pipes out of her nose. It’s all too evident she had a rough night.

My heart wrenches with empathy.

More than likely she couldn’t sleep flat on her back with her injured shoulder.

Not wanting to wake her, my plans to make coffee are thwarted as the kitchen is just a few steps away from her. But more than that, I can’t help but stare at her. My lips tingle when I recall how it felt to kiss her. She looks so beautiful; I can’t help but reach out to brush the side of her cheek. Her skin is so soft, it begs to be kissed, and I lower my face—

And cue her exorcism mode!

Without warning, her head springs back and she jolts to a sitting-up position, pillow already in her hands as she’s ready for an attack. Her arm flails back in a windup before her eyes are even open! If the footrest wasn’t in her way, I don’t doubt she’d be fully standing, her reactions are that quick.

My hands fly up, ready to dodge her weapon. “It’s just me,” I whisper shout and duck, chuckles ripping out of my mouth. I quickly pinch my lips together because it’s not funny she got so scared.

But it actually really is super funny.

Her eyes pop open and swell to the size of silver dollars, all the while she holds this on-guard stance.

A snort leaks as I cover my head and cower. “Relax,” I urge in a hushed voice.

“Ah, maybe I should have warned you.” Her eyes rapid-fire blink as she quickly scans the room before she brings her gaze back to me. “If you ever want your own episode of Dateline, touch me while I’m sleeping.”

I hold my hands up, and all the while I can’t stop laughing. After a moment, her shoulders relax, and she slips out a snicker. “What were you trying to do besides get beheaded?”

A deep laugh rolls out of my gut. “I was just brushing my hand against your cheek.” My cheeks heat, as it sounds so odd to say that out loud, and I rush to add, “Don’t worry. I won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

“I would advise not to.” She punctuates her words with a curt nod but then rolls her neck into a stretch, as her hand instinctively finds her shoulder and rubs it.

“Rough night?” My gaze hangs on her shoulder. She doesn’t look off-kilter anymore, but I can imagine all the bruises and possible swelling she’s suffering from.

“Aw man.” She tips her head further into a neck stretch, while her jaw drops into a deep yawn. “I have no idea what they gave me at the clinic, but as that wore off, the pain got so much worse. I took some of the pills they sent me home with. Those didn’t do near the trick. I couldn’t get comfortable.” She motions to the chair with a flick of a wrist. “I ended up here, only after trying the couch and even the floor.”

“I’m not an expert, but I can tell if it slipped back out of place. I can check if you want.”

“I don’t think it’s out of place.” She tilts her head the other way, stretching it more. “But it’s not normal .”

Now that she’s dropped her weapon, I advance closer, circling around behind her chair. I slide my hands onto her shoulders, running my thumb along her shoulder blade. It only takes me a moment to feel a dense knot. “I think your shoulder is fine, but you have this knot—maybe it’s from how you slept? It could still be from your injury, but I think that’s what’s bothering you.”

Checking my assessment, I press on it, and instantly, she arches her back and pipes out, “Ouch.”

“Yep.” I chuckle as I wait for her to relax. “That would be it. I can rub it out for you if you want?”

“I’m not going to say no .” She pulls her hair over her shoulder and turns in her chair to give me a better angle. I get to work, rubbing little circles with my thumb over the knot. “So, I’m guessing it’s the hockey that made you an expert on all of this stuff.” Her face is angled down, muffling her voice a little, but I can still hear her well enough.

“Many visits to physical therapists over the years. They teach you little tricks to strengthen and stretch your muscles.”

Her muscle smooths fast, indicating it is not an old knot, which only further affirms my diagnosis that it’s from how she slept.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says, and a hint of amusement braids into her tone. I can’t help but smirk. Even though we aren’t officially a couple, it feels just right sitting here with her. “Sorry, I didn't get you a present, but I honestly didn’t think we’d be . . . you know.”

“It’s okay.” I speak over her shoulder. “Then I can’t get in trouble because I didn’t get you anything either.”

“I can make breakfast,” she quips. “Like, I know how to make some pretty amazing pancakes.”

I’ve never had that feeling that something so simple could be so perfect, but everything about the gesture hits me in the heart. “Breakfast would be the perfect present.” I drop my hands from her shoulder and wait for her to stand. As soon as she’s to her feet, I place my hand on her hip. “But first, how about a proper good morning, Valentine’s Day kiss.”

“A Valentine’s Day kiss?” She gives me her mischievous grin and easily slips right into my arms. “Is there anything different about a morning, Valentine’s Day kiss?”

“It’s just a rule,” I tease, hoping she falls for it. She tips her head back and rises to the tips of her toes. Even though adrenaline rapidly fires through my veins, fueling my heart to drum against my chest wall, it honestly feels like the most natural expression for me to pull her in close to me, and seal my lips to hers. Our lips blend together perfectly, and her hand slides up around the back of my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps over the skin she touched.

I could seriously do this all day.

It’s a perfectly valid option.

Since it’s Valentine’s Day and all.

I mean, I might need a water break after a couple of hours, but I’m pretty sure this is why Valentine’s Day was invented—

Jolting away from me, her hand flies to her neck, and her lips bend into a wince. “Sorry,” she hisses. “Serious shoulder cramp.” Her shoulders bounce on the word cramp as she lets out a defeated chuckle.

“I think I need to rub it more.” I match her earlier mischievous grin.

“We don’t have anything else to do today.” She tips her head to the side, tacking on, “Well, except drive home, but there’s no rush.” A conspiratorial gleam sparkles out of the corner of her eye. “But let me make breakfast first.”

I will never be a guy who turns down food, and I quickly nod. Almost on cue, Axl and Sophie emerge from the hall, and Axl chimes in, “Did someone say breakfast?”

“I did,” Paisley replies. “I offered to make pancakes.”

“Oh, I’ll help.” Sophie pivots toward the kitchen. “We have to make them into hearts.” She tosses a look back at Axl. “You’ll eat pancakes, won’t you?”

“As long as they aren’t skibiddi.”

“Stop.” Her hands fly over her ears, but everyone laughs as she mumbles under her breath, “You are no longer allowed to hang out with my brother. He is brainwashing you.”

“That’s cap.” He upnods, with a teasing grin on his face.

Sophie shakes her head while the smile she wears is stretched wide across her face. “Just for that, I’m making you Ohio pancakes,” she teases back, and everyone cracks up.

Paisley flashes me the sweetest smile, and it does everything to refuel my own smile. It's like my smile is dependent on hers. I can’t help but feel that’s the way it’s supposed to be. It’s not lost on me that I haven’t had any anxiety meds for two days, but I’ve never felt more secure in my decision to allow her to slide into my heart.

After all, that’s what this day is for.