Chapter Eighteen
I ease my car into a visitor parking spot in Aiden’s building garage, ready to go upstairs and meet him.
The Manatees beat Nashville tonight, and now I get to celebrate that win on a date with Aiden.
I’m about to text him that I’m here when I see his Lamborghini SUV pull up behind me, blocking me in.
Confused, I turn off my engine and get out of my car.
Aiden lowers the window on the passenger door, leaning over so he can talk to me. “Get in. I’m taking you somewhere tonight.”
I pause as I drink him in. The suit jacket is gone, and he’s wearing a whisper-pink dress shirt that looks gorgeous on him.
The platinum Tiffany watch is on his left wrist, and that shock of hair is sweeping across his brow again, covering his scar.
There’s a smile hovering on his full, sensual lips, and that dimple is threatening to pop out at any moment.
And I know I would do anything this man asked me to do.
I get in, and the first thing Aiden does is raise my window back up.
As soon as it is, his hand slides underneath my hair to the back of my head, and he draws me closer to him.
He smells like a shower, with soap and a fresh application of cologne on his skin, and I shiver excitedly when his head moves closer to mine.
“From the moment I saw you on the glass, this is what I was thinking about,” he murmurs, his lips now mere inches from mine.
“And what was that?” I flirt back.
“Kissing you,” he murmurs, his words brushing softly over my lips before his mouth meets mine.
I melt into him, relishing this slow, drugging kiss before he breaks apart from me.
As soon as he does, Aiden moves his hand to my face, caressing it with his large palm.
“You looked beautiful,” he says softly. “I kept checking you out when I was on the bench. Casually looking over my shoulder during commercial timeouts.”
I’m about to tease him, tell him he should have been listening to my dad, but I stop the words before they can escape my lips.
“What?” he asks, his perceptive eyes searching my face. “What did I say?”
The old me—with my previous relationship—would have murmured “nothing!” and put a smile on my face. I wouldn’t want to worry him or possibly cause a problem by putting the reality of our relationship into perspective.
But with Aiden, I feel like we need to walk in the complicated together, not just me alone in my head.
“I was going to tease you and tell you that you should have been listening to my dad instead of watching me,” I admit.
“Then I checked myself from saying it. Because I didn’t want you to feel weird or guilty.
But I’m telling you because I know we have to be honest with each other as we navigate this. ”
Aiden moves his car forward, and I carefully study his face. His brows draw together, and he presses his lips together in a tight line.
“Trust me, I listen to Coach during the game,” he says as he exits the garage. “When I’m playing, I’m playing. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you sitting a few rows behind the bench during a break in play.” He gives me a brief sideways glance, and then his mouth curves up into a soft smile.
“I’m glad I didn’t make it awkward by giving you my true thoughts,” I say.
“No. To be honest? I like what you said.”
“You did?”
“You said we’re navigating this together. That means a lot to me. Coach is your dad. Of course you’re going to think about him. You don’t need to hide those thoughts from me.”
Relief fills me. Because I know I can always be honest with Aiden, even if it’s awkward.
“I know if we go forward, we’ll have to deal with this. But I don’t want to go to your dad and make this bold declaration without the proof to back it up. When we go to him and explain our situation, I want my intention to not only be clear, but something he can see.”
How could I have ever thought dating Aiden would be wrong? Or a mistake?
Because being with him might be the best mistake I’ve ever made.
“I agree,” I say, nodding.
“Good. Now let’s go have some fun,” Aiden says.
He turns onto the streets of South Beach, and we drive past some palm trees all lit up for Christmas, white lights wound around the large trunks in a festive display.
Some Christmas decorations have been up since early November, but now they’ve been put out in full force with the end of the Thanksgiving season.
I lift my gaze from the twinkling lights back to Aiden’s profile. “How are we going out in public?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise,” he says. “But I’ve carefully thought this out and I think we’re going to be good. I just want to do a few things during Christmas that aren’t in either one of our apartments, and this ticks that box. But if you aren’t comfortable, we can go back to my place.”
“I trust you.”
I trust us, I think.
“Good,” he says, reaching for my free hand and bringing it to his lips. Aiden sweetly brushes a kiss on my knuckles and then releases my hand. “First stop is in MiMo.”
MiMo is the Miami Modern neighborhood, and more likely to be less crowded than South Beach on a Friday night. It’s an interesting choice.
“And you think we’ll be okay in MiMo?” I ask.
“It will still have people, but I don’t think I’ll be recognized where we’re going.”
Hm.
I turn back to Aiden as he drives. “I met Beckham Bailey’s girlfriend tonight.”
“I saw you standing next to her. What’s she like?”
“She’s very nice. And an artist! We got to talking, and I’m going to help her with some photography for her business, actually.”
“I saw Becks toss a bracelet to her. Wyatt gave him a hard time about it. Becks told him to say whatever he wanted, but he was lucky to have Georgie.”
Okay, the romantic in me melts a little bit, hearing how Beckham openly professed his feelings for Georgie.
“When I see Georgie, I won’t say anything about us. I know Beckham is your friend, and Georgie might become one of mine, but there’s no need to involve anybody other than Wyatt and Jamie. I don’t want to make anyone feel awkward.”
“Agreed,” Aiden says, turning down another street.
Eventually he spots someone backing out of a spot on the street and puts on his blinker. I look at the shops nearby, and then my eyes land on one called Matcha Garden.
“Aiden! Are we getting matchas?” I ask excitedly.
“We are. And then we’re off to somewhere else. This is a matcha bar and art gallery, so I’m thinking I’ll be under the radar here.”
He’s probably right.
“But just in case, I’m not going to hold your hand or touch you or anything,” Aiden says as he parks the car.
I hate this. But I understand it. We’re playing the long game here. I know my dad. If he got wind of this, he would say we shouldn’t start it. If we go to him committed and established, he’s going to have to accept it.
At least I hope he will.
“Are you okay with this?” Aiden asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I turn and look at him. The streetlight illuminates his beautiful face, and I see the concern etched on it.
“Yes. If it somehow shows up on social media, we’re friends. Which isn’t a lie.”
“No, it’s not,” Aiden says, his eyes holding steady on mine. Then he smiles at me. “Now let me come around and open your door for you, passenger princess.”
My heart melts. I love how much of a gentleman he is.
Aiden walks around to the passenger side and opens the door for me, helping me exit the vehicle.
Then he moves around me so he’s walking next to the curb and I’m not, but he keeps enough distance between us so we don’t look like a couple.
The weather is in the low seventies, which is good.
I’m still wearing my sweater from the game, and this way, I shouldn’t get too hot in it.
He pulls the door open for me, and I step inside.
The place is very bohemian—lots of modern art installations everywhere, and eclectic music coming in over the speakers.
There are groupings of mismatched chairs and sofas, with dark wood paneling on the walls, and art displays at the back of the space.
“How did I not know about this place?” I ask, looking around. “This is so cool!”
“It is, isn’t it?”
We walk up to the counter, and so far, nobody has even batted an eye at Aiden. I look at the chalk menu board behind the counter, and one is dedicated to holiday matchas. I eagerly scan over the options, and I’m amazed at what they have. Cranberry matcha. Sugar cookie. Gingerbread.
And then I see it. White chocolate peppermint matcha.
“I know which one you’re getting,” Aiden says, smiling down at me.
“Yes?”
“The chocolate peppermint matcha tracks with you.”
He knows me so well. Even in such a short time, he not only knows little things about me, but remembers them.
“Yes. Iced, please. What are you getting?”
Aiden reads the chalkboards. “Not sure, but it will definitely be iced.” He studies them for a minute longer, crinkling the bridge of his nose as he concentrates.
“I’m going with cranberry matcha,” he finally says.
“Have you ever had a matcha before?”
“No. But as you can see, I’ve decided to live dangerously tonight.” That dimple appears in his cheek.
If this is what living dangerously is with Aiden, then I’m ready to sign a long-term contract for it.
“Matcha can be an acquired taste,” I warn him.
“So can I, but you seem to be liking me so far.”
“I’m sorry, in what way are you acquired?” I ask, perplexed. We move up in line, but I keep my eyes firmly on Aiden.
“Women typically go for guys like Wyatt and Beckham. A little wild. Fun. Inked,” he adds with a smirk. “I’m more serious. Quiet.” Then he lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “Some might not see me as fun, you know.”
“May I help you?” the girl behind the counter asks, breaking us from our conversation.
Aiden places the order for two large iced matchas and pulls out his card to tap on the card reader.
“Name?” she asks, retrieving two plastic cups.
Aiden hesitates. I can tell he doesn’t want to use his real name, but didn’t think this out beforehand.