Chapter 31
BITE ME
LAKE
If I’d thought surviving a penalty kill was hard, it’s got nothing on this road trip. Being in close quarters with a woman who smells like flowers and all your fantasies, and not being able to tell her you think about her all the time is more brutal than being undermanned on the ice.
But I last somehow, and when we pull into Evergreen Falls, I can breathe again. It’s late afternoon. We’ll check into the hotel soon, grab some grub, and then call it a night, and when that’s done we can check this off the bucket list.
Only three more items and a wedding to get through.
That’s all.
But as I come around to her side of the car and open the door, I remind myself that I said yes to her request to be her plus-one because I want to help her. When I offered to show her how a man treats a woman—with passion and honesty—I did it because she deserves it.
Not because I want to lay her down on the bed and kiss every inch of her skin. Worship her entire body. Make her toes curl and her fingers grab the sheets.
Though I really fucking do.
“Let’s get that candy,” I say. Hell, maybe some sugar on my tongue will distract me from my vastly inappropriate thoughts.
She gives me a smile—one that says she’s trying her best to be normal. “Thanks again, Lake, for doing this.”
This presumably being running errands for her sister. Going through the bucket list. Taking a road trip.
I blow out a breath and glance briefly down the street of the town that’s known for going all out for the Christmas holidays but also doesn’t seem to hold back on spring decor either.
The streetlamps are decorated with flickering pastel lights, and the stores are dressed up with illustrations of flowers, birds, and butterflies in the windows.
It’s all so festive, and I hate it on principle.
Oh shut up, you grump. Remy probably loves it. Bet she’d enjoy a bouquet of flowers or some chocolates just to celebrate that spring is almost here. And you’d enjoy giving them to her.
Great, now my brain is calling me out on my hypocrisy.
We go inside The Candy Cottage. The smell of sugar smacks me in the face.
Remy’s eyes pop as she looks around. And she’s, yup, the kid in a candy shop, and this is a new bit of intel about her.
I file it away in my Remy list, along with the succulents, the spreadsheets, the notebooks, the strappy shoes she wears, the off-the-shoulder sweaters she likes, and the watches of mine she admires.
I file it beneath the therapy she goes to in order to work on her need to feel in control, even though I think she’s fucking amazing as is, but I admire the hell out of the fact that she wants to improve.
What kind of candy does she like best? I try to read her as she drinks in the shelves of nostalgic candy like Lemonhead and PEZ, then the glass jars stuffed with all kinds of gummy bears, gummy worms, gummy monkeys, Swedish Fish, raspberry treats, and gummy soda bottles, all with signs that say Vegan AF.
I snap my gaze to the register. “Are they normally not vegan?”
A woman behind the pink and white counter with curly black hair and warm dark skin says, “Actually a lot of candy has gelatin, which is made from beef.”
I cringe. “So I’ve been eating beef candy all these years?”
“Well, not if you get it from here,” she says, gesturing to her shop. “We’re proudly meat-free. But yes, gelatin is common in a lot of candy from licorice to gummy bears.”
I cringe. “I don’t ever want to eat licorice again.”
“Or just eat this licorice,” she says, patting a jar with vegan licorice, next to a discount red basket full of Valentine’s candy, all marked Vegan AF too.
Remy strides closer to me, her gaze curious. “Do you have a thing for licorice, Lake?”
“Until I learned I was eating meat when I thought it was sugar.”
Remy pats me on the arm, her brown eyes twinkling. “Let me help you. I’m kind of a candy aficionado.”
Before I know it, the candy lover is scooping up the wedding favors, and buying up the licorice, and something about the competence she displays in breezing through the store irks me—like it means she’s already and easily moved the hell on from the other afternoon when she fell apart in bed, my face buried in the crook of her neck.
But the way she sails through the store excites me too.
That’s the problem with obsession.
You just can’t hit the off button so quickly. Especially when she buys up discounted Valentine hearts that say things like bite me.
That’s totally not going to make me think of what I’m not having with her.
* * *
As the sun dips low on the horizon, we pass the North Pole Nook and Tavern and turn down a side street, then I pull up to the Chestnut Inn. Since this town’s bread and butter is Christmas, there are chestnuts roasting on the sign in the yard but no snow on the ground, or the hint of it in the air.
Good—I don’t need to get snowed in with her, or anything fucking romantic like that. Just need to get checked in, eat dinner, and get some alone time, so I’m not stuck with her and this going-nowhere attraction.
I grab her bag. “I managed to upgrade our room to a suite—two bedrooms and a living room. Couldn’t get an extra room tonight. Too many people in town for the game.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Inside the inn, we head to the main desk, and an older man with a pale face, a goatee, and red hair snaps his gaze to us from the screen. “Welcome to the Chestnut Inn. How may I help you?”
“Hey there, Cedric,” I say, reading his name tag. “I’m checking in. I’ve got a suite for tonight. Last name is Axelrod.”
“Fantastic. I’ll just look you up right now,” he says, then studies the screen. Studies it for a few more beats than I’d expect.
“That’s a suite for tomorrow night?” he asks with some concern, looking up.
“Nope. Tomorrow is just a regular room for me.”
“And tomorrow I have my own room,” Remy chimes in, then gives her name. “But for tonight we’re sharing.”
“The suite?”
“Yes. Tonight’s for the suite. Since there’re two of us. Two friends,” I add, for Remy’s sake, since that’s what she wanted.
Cedric swings his gaze from Remy to me, like he’s adding up the details of us. “Right,” he says, squinting at the screen, then clucking his tongue.
Cedric looks up with an apology written in his eyes. “See, it looks like the suite upgrade was for tomorrow night. Tonight we just have the one room. A regular room with a king-size bed though.”
He fastens on a smile that seems to say I really hope that’ll do.
“That’s all you have for my friend and me?” Remy asks, voice squeaking.
And shit.
That was a rookie mistake I made, introducing us as friends. We’re supposed to be faking it as boyfriend and girlfriend. Everywhere. What if this guy knows someone? Like Jameson or Caroline? What if he rats us out? Is that why he was clocking us seconds ago? Probably, you dumbass.
“We’re fully booked,” he says.
“Are there any other hotels?” she asks in an even higher tone.
She’s totally forgotten we’re supposed to be in character too.
I’ve got to fix this, stat. I take a step closer to her, getting in fake boyfriend territory as she fiddles with her necklace.
Clearly she didn’t notice the gaffe. Maybe Cedric didn’t either. A man can dream.
“I’m afraid the whole town is booked,” Cedric continues.
She gulps. “So it’s just the one room tonight?”
“For you and your friend,” he confirms, and he heard us loud and clear. “But it has a bed and a very comfy couch.”
Which I’ll be sleeping on since there’s only one bed. But Cedric doesn’t need to know that. I drape an arm around Remy and plant a kiss to her cheek, punctuating it with a smack. Time to sell this romance. “Sounds perfect for us.”
Cedric blinks, then furrows his brow even more. “Oh, so it’s all good?”
Remy tenses, but then relaxes, or perhaps she wills herself to relax. “Yes, it’s so perfect.”
With that problem fixed, I grab the key card, thank him and walk toward the stairs. We say nothing on the way up.
Once we reach the room, I unlock it and say, “I’m sorry. I just forgot. There’s no excuse.”
“I forgot too,” she says, then flashes a hopeful grin. “But it’ll probably be fine. It’s not like Caroline’s here, or my parents, or Jameson, or the team yet. And besides, I think you fooled him there at the end.”
I swallow past my self-loathing. “I won’t let it happen again.”
She sets a hand on my arm. “I won’t either.”
But even that gesture, her hand on my arm, feels good. She must realize it, since she takes it off too quickly. The door swings open, and Cedric wasn’t kidding about the one bed. It takes up three quarters of the room.
And the couch? It’s more like a love seat. There’s no way I’ll fit on it.
I can’t be in this room for long, brushing up against her, stealing glances at her, so I use the workout excuse.
I head out as soon as I can for a run, and then a session at the hotel gym.
When I’m done, we meet up for dinner in town, grabbing sandwiches and fries at the Candy Cane Diner.
She tells me she worked out in the fitness center while I was out for a run and already showered so there’s no need to worry.
“You can have the shower to yourself tonight,” she says.
And now I’m thinking of showering. With her. Great. Just great. I take a bite of the fake chicken sandwich like it’ll make me stop picturing her naked.
When we return to the room, it’s nearly nine. Close enough to bedtime but not quite.
The door shuts with an ominous thunk and it’s just her, me, and my unchecked longing for the rest of the night.
“Want dessert?” Remy asks.
You.
“Got some in your pockets?” I tease, trying desperately to make light of the situation.
“No,” she says, laughing as she gestures to her bags. “I have the Valentine’s candy.”
Oh, right. “Sure,” I say.
“And the licorice for you.”
She fucking bought me licorice.
“Let’s do it, then I definitely need to shower,” I say, gesturing to my gym clothes.
“You look cute in sweaty gym clothes,” she says. And that is not helping. And she must know it since she mutters, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I do look hot,” I say, owning it.
“Well, yeah.”
But that won’t help either, the admission that she’s still attracted to me, and I am to her, and we’re not doing a thing about it.
Because it’s complicated, you ass.
I really need to get away from her, but I’m a glutton for Remy, so I settle in on the floor and she sits on the couch, and we crack open the Valentine’s candy. As I pop in a bite me, Remy asks if I want to watch a show.
“Sure,” I say, since it’ll pass more time.
We agree on Top-Notch Boyfriend, a series based on a book from a writer named TJ Hardman. It’s about an American guy who meets an Englishman and falls fast and hard for him but circumstances pull them apart, and it’s a little addictive.
So addictive, we plow through two episodes and a box full of kiss me, hug me, and touch me.
Soon enough, she’s yawning and has clearly come down from the sugar high. “I should go to bed.”
“And I should finally shower,” I say, grateful we’ve survived. Well, almost. There’s still that matter of the one bed.
“Lake,” she says, standing and stretching. “You don’t need to sleep on the couch.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I’d fit.”
She pauses, swallows, then lifts her chin, like she needs to stay on point. “We can share the bed. Right?”
The right is doing a lot of work there. The subtext is clear—we can share it and it won’t end the way the nap lesson did.
“Right,” I say.
After she brushes her teeth, she emerges from the bathroom. She’s wearing sleep pants and a T-shirt that do nothing to help me escape all my desire for this woman.
But she’s also sporting a pair of red glasses that make my heart kick, and I don’t even know why. “You wear glasses,” I say, the words thick in my mouth.
“Only when I remember to take my contacts out. And they were bugging me, so I took them out.”
My desire is bugging me. Wish I could remove it just as easily.