Chapter Seventeen
When Aiden raps on my door, I eagerly jump up to let him in. Not only am I excited for us to share our own Thanksgiving meal, but I have the Christmas tree assembled and ready to decorate, too.
I open the door a crack, so he appears in a sliver in my view. “Shut your eyes! I have a surprise for you!”
Aiden grins. “Are you naked? Please say yes.”
I burst out laughing. “No, I’m not.”
His smile fades. “Damn it.”
“You can see me naked later. Now shut your eyes!”
“Bossy. Will you be that later, too? Preferably when you’re naked. Please say yes.”
“Aiden!”
“Okay, okay,” he says, closing his eyes.
“Keep them closed until I tell you to open them.”
“Got it.”
I open the door and reach for his hand, tugging him inside before I shut the door behind him.
He drops his duffel bag on the floor. I take a moment to stare at him.
God, he’s so beautiful, and I really don’t think he knows it.
Aiden is wearing black knit pants with the drawstring untied, a plain white T-shirt, and this chic black zip-up jacket.
His long, black lashes are resting against his pale skin as he dutifully keeps his eyes shut.
Beautiful, I think. Aiden is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Then I remember he’s waiting for his surprise. “I’m leading you into the living room now,” I say, refocused on my plan. I walk him toward the tree I’ve put in the corner of the room.
“Don’t lead me into the coffee table,” Aiden teases.
“And risk injuring the Manatees’ star defenseman? Never!”
He chuckles, and I get goose bumps from the sound. I move him wide of the coffee table, then stop in front of the tree. “All right. You can open your eyes,” I say eagerly.
Aiden’s eyes blink open. He studies the tree, and his brows draw down in a V. “A Christmas tree?” he asks.
“Yes! I thought we could decorate it together tonight. It’s the first one I’ve ever had on my own. I wanted to share the experience with you,” I add quietly.
Aiden stares down at me, his eyes searching mine. “It’s our first tree.”
Our.
“Yeah.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me thoroughly. “I like this idea,” he whispers against my lips.
I move my hands up to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. “I’m so glad.”
A playful smirk lifts up one corner of his mouth. “Unless you planned this so I can untangle the lights.”
I giggle at that. “No. They’re brand new out of the box. No untangling needed until next year.”
I said next year and it didn’t scare me. Not with the way he’s holding me and looking at me right now.
“I have a whole year to learn how to untangle lights,” Aiden says, dropping his hands to my waist, his thumbs absently moving across my hip bones.
I’m so happy right now, I could burst. “You do.”
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says softly. “I like this top.” He lifts one hand and skims his fingertips across my shoulders. I changed into something nice for our date tonight—a shimmery, silver, spaghetti-strapped top that exposes some skin.
“Hm. I rather like what you’re wearing, too,” I say, tugging playfully on his jacket zipper.
Aiden grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my fingertips and sending a shiver through me. “If we don’t stop now, I can’t promise that I’ll have any interest in decorating a tree,” he teases. “But I am already hungry, if you can believe that.”
“Yes. You’re a hockey player. Come on, I have plenty of food for you.”
We head back into the kitchen, and Aiden leans against the countertop as I begin to take glass storage containers out of the fridge. “Do you want Thanksgiving in a sandwich, or do you want to eat a second serving of it?” I ask.
“This will be my first serving. I had pasta when I went out with Archer and Wyatt.”
“You did?”
Aiden nods. “I wanted to have Thanksgiving with you.”
How is this man still able to make my stomach flip upside down with the things he says to me? I would have thought it would have worn off by this point.
With any other man, it probably would. But not with Aiden.
“This is perfect. Now I get to know what you like on Thanksgiving,” I say as I begin to open the containers.
Aiden moves behind me, wrapping his arms around me and tucking his chin on my shoulder. A rush of happiness runs through me from the sweet, intimate contact.
“What do we have?” he murmurs, his breath rushing across my skin.
I have thoughts of abandoning dinner and this whole Christmas tree decorating idea as soon as his lips tease the side of my neck. I squirm, and Aiden laughs softly into my skin.
“Sorry. I’ll behave.” He stands upright, but puts his hands on my shoulders as her peers down into the containers.
“This is what my mom makes every Thanksgiving,” I say. “We have herb-roasted turkey, cornbread dressing, green beans, mashed potatoes, and just for you, a can of jelled cranberry sauce.”
Aiden begins to massage my shoulders. “This looks so good. Thank you.”
I forget what he’s saying as I feel his calloused fingertips knead my skin. God, this feels amazing. “I’m happy we get to have this dinner together,” I say.
“Me, too.”
Aiden moves around me and retrieves two plates from my cupboard. I bring out some silverware, and we fill our plates with food and take turns heating them in the microwave.
We sit down on the sofa, side by side, and then Aiden looks at me. “This means a lot to me,” he says, his voice low. “I’m thankful to be here with you.”
“I am, too. Are you still going to be thankful when we’re trying to string lights on the tree?”
His eyes dance at me. “Yes.” Aiden leans over and gives me a quick kiss. Then he turns back to his food, taking a bite of his dressing.
I study him for a moment before turning my attention back to my plate. I’m actually having my first Thanksgiving with Aiden. I’m giddy. Grateful.
Thankful.
And with these thoughts in my head, I enjoy my first holiday with Aiden.
* * *
I walk around the basement level of the arena, making my way to the ice for warm-ups. It’s Friday night, Miami is playing Nashville, and this game marks something significant for me.
I’m attending as Aiden’s girlfriend.
That wonderful feeling appears in my stomach again—the butterflies. I still can’t believe I can call myself that.
Miami is starting a homestand tonight that goes through next week, I’m excited that we’ll be able to spend so much time together.
I’ve brought my camera with me, so I can get some good pictures. I always love honing my photography skills, and it’s nice to practice on something other than Real Miami players, too.
Especially if one of the players is Aiden.
I smile to myself as I walk down the familiar concrete corridors of Premier Airlines Arena, wrapped up in thoughts of him.
We had a great night last night—eating our Thanksgiving meal together, decorating the tree, then snuggling on the couch in the glow of twinkling white lights and watching TV. It was perfect.
I round another corner and spot a pretty blonde girl wearing a black tube top bedazzled in hot-pink and crystal-colored beads. It says, “BAILEY 92”, and I instantly recognize her from the Connectivity Story Share Aiden showed me last night.
She’s Beckham Bailey’s girlfriend.
When I see her outfit, my stomach instantly tightens.
I’m wearing a black off-the-shoulder sweater, jeans, and heels.
But this girl can proudly wear Beckham’s number.
The world can know she’s dating him because it’s not considered wrong.
She doesn’t have to hide the fact that Beckham is her boyfriend, and worry that anyone finding out she’s dating him would ruin his career.
I try to push the thought down. I don’t want to think about how my relationship with Aiden is breaking all kinds of rules, even if they’re unwritten ones.
Instead, I pick up on the fact that she looks lost, and I decide to see if I can help her. “Hello,” I say.
“Hi,” she says. Then she stops walking. “Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the rink? I’m here to watch my boyfriend, and I can’t remember which way to go.”
“Oh, that’s where I’m headed. I’ll take you there. I’m Scarlett Rivershon, by the way.”
Her brows knit together slightly, and I can tell she knows my last name from somewhere.
I flash her a smile. “And yes, I’m the coach’s daughter.”
“I’m Georgie Goodwin. I’m Beckham Bailey’s girlfriend.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say as we begin to walk. “Is this your first game?”
“I went to one last week, but we weren’t dating then,” she explains.
“Oh! So this is recent.” Just like Aiden and me, I think.
And I know it’s stupid, but I wish I could say that. That I’m dating Aiden Wentworth, and we’re new in our relationship, too.
“Yes, very much so,” Georgie says. I lead her down a corridor to the right. “Do you go to all the home games?”
I nod. “I try to. Obviously, I’ve grown up with hockey, so I love it. But I work for Real Miami FC in social media, so I have to go to all their games and travel with the team.”
Her blue eyes widen. “Oh, what a cool job!”
“It’s fun. I’ve always wanted to work in sports, and I just started with them this past fall. We’re in our offseason now, so I can take in the hockey games at night, which I love.”
I can also take hockey pictures, which I love more than anything, I think wistfully.
Now we’re close enough that you can feel the cold air coming off the surface of the ice. I take her past the main entrance that the players use to enter the ice, heading toward the elevator.
“Isn’t there an elevator we need to use? If I remember right?” Georgie asks.
“Yes, it’s right here. Good memory!”
We reach the elevator, and the attendant greets me and then checks Georgie’s credential.
“Plaza concourse, please,” I say.
“Of course,” the attendant says, pressing the button.
The doors close, and Georgie turns to me. “I should take pictures of everything as I walk. I’m afraid I won’t find my way back.”