Page 41 of Skating and Fake Dating (Love in Maple Falls #4)

BAILEY

W hen my emotional waterfall slows to a sniffle, Carson says, “I found the maple butter you snuck into my bag and decided to come … home.”

“To the arena?”

He shakes his head slowly, gaze not leaving mine. “To you. I went to your grandmother’s house first and she said you were going to find me.”

“I saw that you were back early, then I went to your rental and you weren’t?—”

“Possibly, for the first time in months, we had to look for each other instead of finding ourselves stuck in the same place.”

I laugh lightly and kind of snort. It’s not pretty, but his smile reaches his eyes like no matter what I do, he’ll still think I’m adorable. “You have a point. But I’ve been so afraid we don’t fit into each other’s lives. You’re a famous hockey player and I’m just me.”

“Just you?” He cradles my jaw. “I’m with you because you’re you.”

My eyebrows lift in question.

Releasing an exhale, Carson says, “Let me back up. My grandfather had a lot of useful sayings. Among them were, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it and Don’t try to stick a square peg into a round hole .”

“That’s to say I’ve been trying to fit myself into the wrong life.”

“Maybe so. Those were straight from the farm and I’m certainly not saying you’re a square peg—not that it would be an insult—but the boxes that your family created are, and feeling like you need to prove anything to them is.

I think it’s getting in the way of you thriving and us being stuck in fake relationship mode like molasses in the winter. ”

“Is that another one of his sayings?”

“You betcha. Bailey, he would’ve really liked you.

He’d have wanted us to give this a real shot.

I do too. But first, I want you to know that I’m sorry I distanced myself this past week and didn’t answer your texts.

I was looking for an exit strategy when I got scared that you’d rejected me. I’ve been such a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, you’re just cautious.”

A frown drops onto his lips as if I’m being far too generous. “I ran because I was afraid of what I was feeling. Of what we were becoming.”

“And what’s that?” I ask even though I know the answer. Even though we had a similar discussion after the town council meeting and I offered him an easy way out. My stupid heart suggested it would be better to let him go than to try to walk away, right?

Wrong. That’s not what I want and I have to tell him.

“Real. The last time I thought I had something real, I was wrong, so I built walls, created routines, and tried to control everything I could. Then you came along with your mismatched suits and colorful shirts, your irresistible sweets, cute little freckles, snappy sense of humor, maple butter and magic smile, and your ability to have fun.”

“You like my sense of humor?” I interrupt .

“I love it.”

“You noticed my freckles? I tried to cover them with makeup so I look more professional.”

He swipes the pads of his fingers across my cheek.

“They’re beautiful and I notice everything about you, Bailey.

The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous.

How you talk to Tiny like she understands every word.

The little dance you do when you’re excited. I hear everything you say.”

“You are a good listener. But I convinced myself I wasn’t enough for someone like you. That eventually you’d realize you needed someone who fits into your world better than I do.”

He takes my hand and says, “My world was empty until you. Hockey fills my schedule, but you fill everything else.”

“I tend to mess things up.”

Expression as serious as a rainstorm, Carson says, “You fixed everything.”

“What about your public image?”

“I needed to change, but I don’t want you to. You stay exactly who you are—the woman who makes maple butter, loses her sunglasses weekly, and sees possibilities where others see problems.”

“What about your past relationship?”

“It hurt me, but you healed me. The first step for us to take is to admit this isn’t fake.”

“Was it ever? I was hesitant because you said you don’t believe in true love, so I thought things would come to an abrupt end if I admitted my feelings for you.”

“Meanwhile, I was protecting myself from being hurt again. But in the process, I was preventing myself from feeling anything.”

Looking around at the arena, I ask, “What about when the season takes you away? What about when my business keeps me here? What if you get traded?”

Carson smiles. “You told me that you’re solution-oriented. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. No more fake relationship—just a real one, with real challenges but also real happiness.”

Clearing my throat, I say, “There’s something else you should know.

Remember the woman at the town hall meeting?

She offered me an amazing opportunity to help showcase and distribute Sweet Memories Maple Company products.

I was afraid that if I accepted, it would somehow fall apart, only highlighting how I’m a repeat failure. ”

“But you wouldn’t know unless you tried.”

“That’s not all. It also means I might have to travel for demonstrations and marketing events. I didn’t know how to reconcile that with whatever I hoped would result from what we were pretending to be.”

Carson takes my hands in his. “I would never want you to sacrifice your dreams for me. In fact, I want to be the one cheering loudest when you succeed.”

“My grandmother said her dream wasn’t a thing, but a person, a life with Pappa.” My gaze hovers over Carson’s and all I see is reassurance and confidence, warmth and want.

“That might be true and you know what else? Home isn’t a place. It’s wherever you are.” He takes a rectangular box out of his pocket with a watch repair shop label on the top and passes it to me. “Turns out you keep everything important in your purse.”

“You stole my watch?”

“Borrowed it for repairs.” Carson winks. “On my way back from the airport, I received a call that it was ready and when I heard the tick , tick , tick , I became certain that I want to spend my time with you. All of it. Forever.”

I lift the lid and find my grandfather’s watch sitting inside, working again, set to the right time. Tears of joy brim in my eyes. “You did this for me?”

Carson takes the watch and slides it around my wrist right where it belongs.

“When I was little, I asked Pappa what ‘Tempus Fugit’ meant and he told me that time flies, so be sure to do what you love with the people you love. I’m done wasting time pretending I don’t love you.”

I fling my arms around Carson’s neck and he squeezes me tight.

He says, “After I was rejected, my entire life fell apart and then became about control as I tried to put it back together, and you are the most beautifully uncontrollable person I’ve ever met.

You make me remember who I used to be, and that scares me because that person got his heart broken.

I thought I was afraid to love you. But the truth is, I’m not. ”

My lips tease a smile. “Are you saying you want to be my actual, non-fake boyfriend?”

His grows on his lips. “I’m saying I love you, Bailey Porter. I’m completely in love with you.”

“Well, that’s convenient because I’m completely in love with you, too.”

Carson turns to me, eyes so full of warmth and affection that I feel fuzzy and lightheaded in the best of ways. My stomach swoops as his gaze drops to my lips. I’ll never know the conclusion to my dream of meeting a Southern gentleman on a dusty road, but this is even better.

“What are you thinking about?” His husky voice sends a flutter through my chest.

“You, us,” I answer honestly, surprising myself with my boldness.

He moves closer, drawing me to my feet. That magnetic smile of his makes my heart tumble over itself. There’s a certain swagger in the way he talks and even the way he walks that captivates me—confident but never arrogant, like he knows exactly who he is and where he belongs.

My dream cowboy hockey star.

“Maybe we should do a little less thinking, at least for a few minutes. ”

“If we’re not thinking, then we must be feeling and that goes against our hypothetical fake relationship rules.”

He motions to toss something over his shoulder. “I’m done with those.”

“Me too,” I say breathlessly.

When his fingers brush against the skin of my neck as he cups my jaw, my inhale falters. The gentle sandpaper touch of his thumb against my cheek sends electricity racing up my arm. Our eyes lock, and I can see the longing in his gaze.

“Kiss me,” I whisper, the words rush toward him with nowhere else to go, leaving no question about what I want.

His mouth presses against mine and I draw him close, palms pressing against the muscular planes of his back. His hands skim down to rest at my waist.

The world falls away. The kiss is gentle at first, exploring as if he’s memorizing the feel of me. I’m aware of every sensation—the strength of his arms as they wrap around me, the soft pressure of his mouth against mine, and I inhale his fresh, masculine scent.

A shiver runs through me as the kiss deepens.

My fingers find their way to his shoulders, then his neck, then tangle in his hair.

The reality of kissing this man puts my cowboy dreams in my imagination to shame.

Nothing could have prepared me for this rush of emotion, this sense of coming home that I feel in his arms. This connection.

This time, when we kiss, there are no interruptions, no storm, no doubts. Just the two of us and we’ve found our way to something real … to each other.

When we break apart, we both take shallow breaths. I offer him a shaky smile, overcome by the intensity of what passes between us.

“Wow, that wasn’t practice,” is all I can manage, referring to when we kissed at the Maple Falls overlook, in the kitchen, and on the front porch as my mind struggles to form coherent thoughts .

He rests his forehead against mine, and I close my eyes, savoring the closeness. “Nope. I reckon this is for real, Blondie.”

My hand rests on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart.

I lift my gaze to his and see promise, certainty and affection there. Once again, butterfly tingles rush through me, more intense now, spreading through my entire body.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks, and the desire in his question makes my heart swell.

Instead of answering, I press my lips to his this time. I meet him with my own longing.

This kiss feels like an unspoken vow between us. His arms tighten around me, and I melt against him, feeling as though I’ve finally found the place I belong.

As our hands explore and hearts race, the kiss deepens, softens, grows, and goes in new directions with the promise of more for the future.

When we separate, I’m covered in the phantom impression of his kisses—not just on my lips, but everywhere his love has touched me, seeping into my skin, my heart. It’s overwhelming and perfect all at once.

He laces our fingers together and kisses the top of my head, a gesture so tender it makes my eyes sting with happiness, and I beam a smile.

“I never knew it could feel like this,” I whisper, my fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw.

“Like finding a part of yourself you never knew was missing,” he says.

I smile, feeling something profound blooming in my chest—something I’ve been afraid to name until now. All my carefully constructed walls have crumbled in his presence, leaving me vulnerable yet somehow stronger than I’ve ever been.

“So,” he murmurs, “does this mean I can call you my girlfriend?”

“You can call me anything you want, including Blondie. ”

As the late afternoon sun streams through the arena windows, casting golden light across the ice, he kisses me again.

My thoughts briefly drift to how unexpected detours, including flight delays, a reluctant return trip home, and road construction, led me not only to exactly where I’m meant to be, but who I’m supposed to be with.