Chapter 8
“Where in the world are you taking me?” Piper asks, grabbing my hand and stepping in close.
“Some place where we don’t have to be on.”
A cowboy sitting on a horse is painted on the side of the old building. I grab the door of the Moon Bar and hold it open for her.
“This place okay?” I ask as she floats by in a cloud of sugar. I don’t know how she smells so sweet, but she does. Like a cupcake I want to sink my teeth into.
For a weeknight, it’s quiet. After being photographed to within an inch of my life today, I wanted to go somewhere I could be myself. Where people wouldn’t bother me for an autograph. I love getting to do events like we did today, but I need to decompress now.
Christmas lights hang from the acoustic ceiling tiles. A few people linger around the bar, and someone is on stage getting ready for karaoke.
“It’s great, Cash.” She spins on her heel, giving me a smile before finding an open table in the bar.
“What do you want to drink?” I ask her.
“Old fashioned.”
“Really?”
Piper slides into a chair. “What, think I can’t handle it?”
“No.”
Piper leans across the table. “I can handle you, can’t I?”
Damn. “Okay then. One old fashioned coming right up.”
I wink at her before heading to the bar and getting her drink and a beer for me. With practice tomorrow morning, I need to be on my game. A long road trip is coming up and I don’t want to be gassed before we start.
“Usual, Cash?” the older bartender asks me.
“And an old fashioned with top-shelf bourbon.”
“You got it.”
Grabbing my wallet, I tap my card on the bar waiting for our drinks. The TV is playing the Nashville game.
“Seriously, Roy? You have this shit on?”
He scoffs at me, mixing Piper’s drink. “Guys want to watch it. Sue me.”
“Need to think twice about who you let in here.”
“I let you in, don’t I?” He sets the two drinks down with a toothy smile.
“See if I come back.”
“Fuck off.”
There’s no malice in his words. Roy has owned this joint for as long as I can remember. He’s why I keep coming back. I let him swipe my card, and I pull out a generous tip for him before heading back to our table.
And what I see has me stopping in my tracks.
Piper slips out of her jacket, dropping it onto the back of her chair. My mouth is dry as I stare at her bare back. The black, stretchy material clings to her. Lace lines her shoulders, showing a diamond cutout on her back.
Pale, perfect skin.
I want to lean over and kiss each notch of her spine.
She’s been wearing this all day and I haven’t noticed?
I set the drinks down on the table and take the seat across from her.
Fuck. I shift on the seat, trying to control the growing problem in my pants.
“You okay?” Piper asks.
“You have no idea.”
Her smile is soft. Hell, everything about her is. Piper has half her hair pulled back into a fancy twist, bun thing and is wearing a light layer of makeup.
Soft.
Sweet.
Like a fucking princess.
Piper grabs her drink and takes a small sip. “Mmm. Thanks, Cash.”
“I never would have pegged you for an old fashioned drinker. You seem awfully young to like bourbon.”
Piper sets her drink down and leans across the table. She grabs a pretzel from the bowl that sits between us. “When I turned twenty-one, my dad gave me my first drink of it.”
“And let me guess, you loved it,” I interrupt.
“God no.” She laughs. “I hated it.”
“Really?” I take a long pull of my microbrew.
“It took me awhile before I liked it. I like the simple syrup and cherries in it.”
Piper fishes in her drink for the cherry and pulls it out by the stem, grabbing the sweet fruit between her teeth and biting it off.
Fuck. Me.
I take a healthy swallow of my beer, trying to cool the heat that’s flowing through me, straight to my groin.
Piper licks her fingers, dropping the cherry stem on the cocktail napkin.
This woman is driving me fucking crazy. She makes it hard to be around her, but makes me want to be around her more.
It’s dangerous. Because Piper isn’t mine. This thing is fake. But it doesn’t mean I can’t pretend she’s mine for a little while.
“Okay, so I know nothing about you, Cash. Tell me some things.”
“Like what?”
“I can search you online and find your college stats and how many goals you scored with the Black Diamonds when you won the cup a few years ago. But that’s it.”
“If that’s all you found, then that’s a good thing.”
“Why?”
I snort around my drink. “Because it’s usually not all that good.”
Piper gets a cocky look on her face. It shouldn’t be as cute as it is, but I like it. “Then why don’t you tell me about you?”
I take a hearty sip of my beer. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Piper bites into one of the pretzels. “Now, favorite color?”
“Out of all the questions in the world, that’s what you’re asking me?”
“You can tell a lot about a person by their favorite color.”
“If I tell you mine’s black, what does that tell you?”
Piper leans across the table. This close, I can see small flecks of green in her blue eyes. “You’re lying.”
I lean closer. We’re less than a foot apart. I can read Piper like a book. I don’t know how she can tell I’m lying, but I am.
“Fine. It’s red.”
“I see.” She leans back in her chair, sipping on her drink.
“Gathered all you needed to know about me with that one fact?”
“Red means you’re passionate. Ambitious. Need a sense of adventure. Like sex.”
“I’m a man, Piper. Of course I like sex.”
Which now has me thinking of sex. With her. And that damn top that clings to her that is driving me wild. So much for not thinking about her like that.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She rolls her eyes.
“Okay, fine. How do you know so much about color meanings?” The less I think about sex, the better.
“I like learning about these things. You can tell a lot about a person by their favorite things.”
“What’s yours?”
“Purple.”
“What does that say about you?” I ask.
“We feel deeply. Are compassionate. A good judge of character.”
Hooking my leg around the leg of her chair, I pull her closer toward me. Her eyes widen in shock. Piper’s tongue darts out of her mouth and wets her lip.
What she’s feeling is written all over her face. I don’t want to notice, but I can’t help it. I’m finding I notice everything about Piper.
“What does that good judge of character tell you about me?” My voice is low, husky. It doesn’t hide the way she’s affecting me.
A finger traces the tattoos on my forearm that rests between us. Piper looks at my arm and then up at me before repeating the motion.
It’s lust-inducing. Making me chub up in my jeans.
There goes any chance of not thinking about Piper.
Naked.
Under me.
Watching her take my cock.
Fuck, would she ever look good with me inside of her.
“You do everything you can to keep people out, including tattooing a brick wall on your forearm.”
I gaze down to where she’s tracing the ink that wraps around my arm. It was one of the first tattoos I got when I turned eighteen. Out on my own with a chip on my shoulder, I wanted to show the people that were supposed to take care of me that I didn’t need them.
Now, Piper is driving me crazy.
“That seems obvious,” I tell her.
“You do it so people won’t see the real you,” she continues, ignoring me. Piper doesn’t deal with my shit, and I like her all the more for it. “I think there’s a big heart under there that you’re afraid of letting people see.”
“How do you know it’s there?” My voice is rough now.
“Because you let me see it today.”
“I…”
I don’t even know what to say to her. Because I was open and honest with all of those kids at the hospital. They have no ulterior motives. They aren’t trying to get something from you.
It’s why I always say yes to team events like that, even when I refuse to participate in others.
“It’s okay, Cash. You don’t have to pretend it’s not there.”
I suck down more of my beer. “Tell me something else you like then.”
It’s an easy distraction to deflect from the emotions Piper is making me feel.
“Shortbreads are my favorite cookies, but I love making macarons. The science of it is definitely an art form. Amaryllis flowers are my favorite.”
“The what? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”
“They symbolize strength.”
“What do you need strength for, Princess? You already seem to have it in spades.”
She shakes her head. “Not always. It’s a good reminder. I want it as a tattoo.”
“Why haven’t you gotten it yet?”
“I don’t like needles. I need to work up the courage.”
“Once you get one, they’re addicting,” I confirm.
I can only imagine ink marring her beautiful skin. Where would she have it? Somewhere only she could see? Somewhere others could?
“Which is your favorite tattoo?” Piper asks, breaking my thoughts before they go down the same dirty road as they have been all night.
“This one.” I point to the crossed hockey sticks on my bicep with a date below it. “I got it after my first NHL goal.”
“I like it.”
Piper traces her fingers along the ink, sending goose bumps breaking out on my skin. The smallest touch from her affects me in ways I’ve never felt before.
I wish I could say I pull my head out of my ass, but I don’t. The rest of the evening carries on like this. Her asking questions, fingers brushing my skin.
By the time I’m dropping her off at her car, I wish I could ask her to stay.
But I can’t.
Hockey takes priority. I don’t want to need people. Needing people means you rely on them. Which always leads to them letting you down.
I’ve had enough letdowns for a lifetime.
“I’ll see you at the arena tomorrow?” I ask Piper, shutting her door.
We each had one drink at the bar before switching to water. We talked for hours. I could tell you her preschool teacher’s name at this point.
Easy, because it was her mother.
She nods.
“I’ll be there.”