8. Cock Socks & Cinnamon Buns
OLIVIA
I’m used to being the shortest person in the room. Ninety-nine percent of my high school students are taller than me, even the freshmen.
But this is terrifying.
“Am I exceptionally small or are you friends exceptionally tall?” I whisper to Carter as we approach a group of his teammates. He’s currently digging into his second cinnamon bun, his fingers covered in frosting, but he does spare me an amused and lingering glance.
“Both. Don’t worry. They won’t bite.” He winks. “I might, though.”
I don’t know how I wound up here. I was pretty set on not seeing Carter again, or at least not interacting with him. I thought Friday had been a crude but necessary reminder of who he was, because I’d accidentally let him peek over a couple of my walls and momentarily forgotten.
But now I’m not so sure.
Don’t get me wrong: the man is without a doubt as arrogant as the media makes him out to be. He has no qualms about saying whatever’s on his mind, which makes him remarkably honest but is also a little jarring.
For example, I—as someone whose pants he’s actively trying to get into—don’t need to or want to know that women attach themselves to his body wherever he goes.
I certainly appreciate the clarification that what I saw Friday between him and the strawberry blonde wasn’t as it seemed, but the truth was somehow as intimidating as the belief had been nauseating.
The tallest man in the group turns around, and I recognize him immediately as Adam Lockwood, Vancouver’s superstar goalie. He spreads his arms wide, stepping in our direction.
“Where’d you go? I thought maybe you went to buy a cock…
” His eyes slide my way, and his cheeks flush.
“Sock…” He clears his throat and gives me a shy wave.
“Hi. Me Adam. No. Fuck.” He claps a hand to his face and drags it down before offering it to me.
“Adam. I’m Adam. I’m sorry. I’m just embarrassed because I don’t know you but I said cock sock in front of you. ”
Oh my God, he’s adorable. He’s also insanely beautiful, bright blue eyes and dark, tousled curls begging to be touched.
I slip my hand into his. “You can say cock sock in front of me all you want.”
Carter’s mouth dips to my shoulder. “Can I—”
“No.” I cover his face with my hand and shove him away.
“Damnit.” He gestures toward me. “This is Olivia.”
Adam’s eyes brighten. “Oh! Cara’s friend!” His eyes darken as he looks at Carter. “Oh. Cara’s friend.”
Carter rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. Olivia wanted to hang out with me.”
“Uh, that’s not how it happened. You dragged me—”
His entire arm wraps around my head as he pulls me back into him, burying my words. “Shhh.”
Adam wears an insanely broad and sunny grin, his gaze bouncing between Carter and me, and it’s at this moment I realize I’m still in his arms, back pressed to his chest, and I’m not sure how to disengage.
Thankfully, Emmett spies me from across the park.
His eyes widen, and he breaks into a jog. “ Ollie !” He yanks me out of Carter’s hold and wraps me in one of his burly hugs. They’re my favorite kind, bearish and bordering on the edge of suffocating. “Care didn’t say you were coming. She’s at a meeting with some clients.”
“I wasn’t. I was doing some last-minute Christmas shopping and got dragged here against my will.”
A handsome blond appears at Emmett’s side, giving me a sheepish smile. “Carter doesn’t like to take no for an answer.”
“I can tell it’s a very difficult concept for him to grasp.”
His turquoise eyes flash with mirth, and he takes my hand, introducing himself even though I already know who he is. “Garrett. I bet you’d like me better.”
“I bet I would too.”
“Can’t blame ya.” He gestures lazily at his face. “It’s the east coast twang.”
“Back off.” Carter huffs, tugging me away. “She’s my date.”
Um. “This is not a date.”
“Pretty sure it’s a date, Ollie.”
I cross my arms. “Pretty sure you have to ask someone on a date, Carter .”
His jade eyes gleam. “Eh, whatever. Ask, drag; it’s all the same.” He threads his fingers through mine and hauls me forward. “C’mon, pip-squeak. Let’s go get our faces painted.”
“I’m twenty-five. I’m not getting my face painted.”
* * *
I got my face painted.
Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.
“You look so pretty.”
“I have your damn jersey number on my cheek, Carter!”
He folds his lips into his mouth in an attempt to hide his guilty smile. “ So pretty.”
Just trust me , he’d said. Well, it’ll be the last time I do.
I’d sat down with a clear face and stood up with #87 painted in blue and green on my left cheek.
The kicker is the obnoxious pink heart surrounding it.
I’d say at least I don’t have Olaf on my face, but Carter seems to be incredibly proud of the cartoon snowman that covers his cheek.
He gestures to a stone retaining wall. “Wanna sit and have our cheesecake?”
“You’ve had two cinnamon bums and a corndog. How are you still hungry?”
He pats his belly. “I’m a big boy.”
He certainly is, and the corndog is the only thing I’ve eaten since breakfast, so I let him pull me down beside him, and we enjoy our dessert in silence.
“Do you need a ride home later?” he asks after a minute. “I can take you.”
My belly does this odd flip, and I can’t pinpoint the exact reason. It could be because the thought of being alone in a car with Carter later tonight makes me both anxious and excited, or because I’m too embarrassed for him to see where I live, the shoebox-sized house that fits me perfectly.
I swallow down my bite and shake my head. “No, thank you. I should get going after this.”
His face falls. “What? Already? No, you can’t.” He gestures at the towering pine tree currently being wrapped in lights. “You have to stay for the tree lighting. We could do something else after this too. Go somewhere, maybe.”
“It’s getting late.”
“But you don’t have to work tomorrow,” he argues, or whines. Little bit of a pout too. “You’re on vacation.”
“I don’t know…” I’ve already stayed longer than I planned to.
I’ve seen Carter get behind a microphone and make the crowd laugh.
I’ve seen him engage with every child who’s tugged on his hand, whether for photos or signatures or a simple chat.
I’ve seen him be a friend, a leader, a community partner, and through it all, he’s worn the most genuine smile.
If I’m being honest, I’m not sure it’s a side to him I was ready to see, even though Cara insisted it existed somewhere behind the egotistical playboy attitude.
And I guess that’s the thing: just because he’s got this sweet, goofy side doesn’t mean the playboy side doesn’t exist. You can be both, and you can have both. But if I’m going to have him, I don’t want both.
The longer I stay, the more I see, the easier it becomes for me to fall. And I refuse to fall when nobody’s going to be waiting at the bottom to catch me.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I finally tell him quietly.
Disappointment flashes in his eyes, and he speaks softly. “Why are you so opposed to hanging out with me?”
“It’s not that. It’s…” My bottom lip slides between my teeth as I stare at my feet. “I’m not interested in a one-night stand. I’ve told you that.”
“So you wanna go on a date?”
Well, now I can’t not look at him. “You don’t date, Carter.”
“Right.” His gaze coasts slowly down my face, lingering on my lips for a moment. “Not typically. But that’s not what I asked, Olivia.”
I can’t focus. Everything feels hazy, like a thick fog I can’t see through to the other side. Because that’s what this is. I hear his words, his question, but I don’t know what lies on the other side of the actions. It’s like choosing to jump when you can’t see the ground.
“Liv?” Carter squeezes my fingers. “Do you wanna go on a…date?” He tacks on a barely audible fuck , peering up at the sky as he tips his head side to side, the bones in his neck cracking, as if simply saying the four-letter word is painful enough.
Which only serves as a reminder that a date would be a waste of time, both his and mine.
“I have no desire to go on a date with you just to let you fuck me at the end of the night and then promptly watch you publicly parade around town with a different girl glued to your hip every other day of the week, leaving me feeling used and tossed aside.”
A simple no would have sufficed, which is what I’d meant to say when I opened my mouth. Instead, I word-vomited all over him and embarrassed myself by revealing how easy it would be for him to hurt me.
Ultimately though, it is what it is. At this point, I don’t know him well enough to make another choice.
Carter’s not been secretive about his intent.
Besides being forthcoming with wanting to get me in bed, the guy also proudly splashes his personal life all over the papers.
What am I supposed to think when he controls his own narrative and that narrative screams fuckboy ?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive. It’s just—”
“It’s all I’ve given you. You don’t have to apologize.” Carter’s thumb sweeps over my knuckles, and I watch as he traces the shape of each finger. “So you don’t want to hook up, but you don’t want to date either? I guess I’m a little confused.”
“That’s fine,” I insist, maybe a little stubbornly. “I’m the only person who needs to understand my decisions. You can have anybody you want, Carter.”
His laugh is hollow, long fingers skimming the sharp angle of his jaw. “I can’t, clearly.” He gestures at me with a sweeping hand. “Because what I want is you.”
“You don’t actually want to take me on a date. You only think you want me because I said no, and you’re not used to it. It’s the thrill of the chase.”
He gnaws on his lip. “That’s what I thought at first too. But now I’m not so sure.” He lifts a lazy shoulder. “Who knows; maybe I’d be good for you.”
I hear the words, and I’m trying so hard to focus on them, but it’s becoming impossible. My eyes squeeze shut with my snicker. “I’m sorry. I know this is a serious conversation, but you’ve got that damn snowman on your face.”
Carter dips his head, covering his smile with the hand he runs over his mouth before he peers back up at me.
“Will you please just stay for the tree lighting? We’re having fun.
There’s no sense in ending it now. I’ll order you an Uber to take you home so you don’t have to worry about what might happen if we’re alone together in a dark car later. ”
“I’m not worried—”
“You are. You’re fucking transparent, Ollie. ’Cause I’d probably try to kiss you, and you’d probably let me.” He leans back, blowing out a deep breath. “And who the fuck knows what happens after that.” A soft, easy smile. “So stay, please. No funny business, I promise.”
I’m quickly learning that the only thing I’m good at saying no to is his request to get me naked and in his bed. He’s incredibly persuasive, especially when he pulls those dimples in, or when he gives me those puppy dog eyes.
That’s how I wind up standing next to him nearly two hours later—well after Adam’s smooshed not one, not two, but three pies into his face—as the sun finishes dipping into the horizon while we stare up at the massive tree, waiting.
My frosty breath puffs out in front of me, and my teeth clatter as a shiver rolls through my body. With the sun gone, the winter air feels a lot more frigid.
Carter shifts from beside me, disappearing from view, and a moment later his arms come around me, pulling me back against his chest, encasing me in his warmth. My body stills at the contact, but inside, every nerve ending fizzes.
My arms lift, floppy-eared puppy mitten-sheathed hands gripping his forearms where they wrap around me, and I sink into the moment, letting myself forget about the expectations, the fears, the lines.
A chuckle rumbles around me as Carter rests his chin on top of my head. “Cutest fucking mittens I’ve ever seen.”
The tree comes to life, multicolored lights twinkling, making this December night glow as the crowd around us ooh s and aah s.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Carter’s arms tighten around me. “Yeah. Sure is.”
With the tree lit and the park emptying, Carter walks me to the car idling by the curb.
I look at the fancy, all-black SUV. “I know you ordered the luxury option.”
He shrugs, smile bashful. “Prove it, pip-squeak.”
I giggle. “Thanks for today, Carter. It was fun.”
He nods, then stops me when I reach for the door. “Wait. What are you doing on New Year’s Eve? We’re having a team party. Cara and Emmett will be there. Maybe you could come.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“Do you already have plans?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then you’ll come.” He folds his hands together beneath his chin when I open my mouth to argue. “Please, Ollie. It’ll be fun.” He steps in front of the car door. “I won’t let you leave until you say yes.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there.”
He punches a fist through the air. “ A-ha !”
“It’s not a date,” I remind him quickly, poking his shoulder.
He shakes his head, hands up. “Not a date.” He opens the door and gestures for me to climb in, and then proceeds to reach over and buckle me in. He tucks my box of cinnamon buns on my lap and pulls back, scratching the back of his neck. “Um, Ollie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for upsetting you Friday night and making you feel like I bailed on you.”
My mouth quirks. “I’m sorry I actually did bail on you.”
“I’m not sorry you were jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous.”
Carter grins. “Green looks so good on you.”
“Shut up.” I smile up at him. “I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.”
He nods. “Not a date.”
“Not a date,” I repeat.
Then he shuts the door, hits me with two finger guns, and yells, “It’s a date!”