Chapter 45
45
NICKY
“W ho’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy? Huh? You are. Yes, you are.”
Ronan is crouched on the floor of the elementary school gymnasium, getting wet, sloppy kisses from a frisky Pomeranian named Dolly. Giggling, I snap another picture of the enamored pair.
I’d be jealous of all the making out. But I’m not surprised that these bitches love Ronan as much as I do.
I jolt, tripping over my own feet.
Love…?
Love is a very big four-letter word.
Way too big of a label to slap on my feelings for Ronan. Have I ever even been in love anyway? Do I even know what it is? Surely ‘love’ can’t be what’s happening here.
But I don’t know what else to call it. The way my chest fills with fireworks when he says my name. The way my jagged edges soften with just a touch of his hand. The way his smile feels like the warmth of spring on the walls of my ice fortress.
I’m starting to wonder if I bit off more than I can chew when I agreed to this practice relationship with Ronan.
In any case, now’s not the time or the place to be overanalyzing these budding feelings. So I shove them in a closet at the back of my mind, aim my camera at Ronan with his furry friend and capture a few more shots. Then I keep wandering around this charity event.
After another stretch of Saints wins, today is the day of the pet adoption drive. I’m here in Honey Hill with Ronan, the rest of the hockey team and some associates from the PR department. As planned, we’re hosting this event at the school where my mother is principal.
Speaking of Mom, she’s definitely enjoying the massive hockey players. She’s relentlessly asking them all about the sport and talking about the season, even though I’ve never seen her watch a hockey game in all my life.
Like, what multiverse have I stepped into?
“You guys have made such a big turnaround,” Mom gushes to Tipton. “It’s so exciting to watch you on the ice! Oh!”
He’s blushing like a good little well-mannered school boy. Totally out of character for his reckless self. “Yes, ma’am. Thanks for saying that.”
I’m busy helping people fill out their paperwork and pretending not to be eavesdropping on the conversation. But my ears perk up when Mom turns to Ronan. “And you, mister. Your turnaround has been so impressive this season.”
He stands tall, head high. “I didn’t have a great start to the season. I’ll own it. I let people down, but then with Nicky’s influence, I was able to get my butt on track.”
My knees falter beneath me and my legs go weak. This man has a power like no other to make me swoon. All it takes is just a few words from him.
But no time for swooning. Because people have been lined up around the block since we opened. It’s thanks to all the promotion from the Saints’ social media accounts.
And, I can’t tell if it’s because of how well he’s been playing lately or if he just really, really likes dogs, but Ronan is in a really good mood. Like goofy good.
Captain Brighton is sauntering around the charity event, grinning from ear-to-ear, high-fiving every person who comes in to consider adopting, and once again, he’s down on the floor playing with another dog.
And me?
I’m doing my best to keep it neutral with him. Even though I don’t think his teammates will give a crap who their captain is sleeping with, I’m nervous about it getting out.
After making out on Grammy’s porch like zoo animals, Ronan and I are probably the talk of the Westbrook family gossip mill. But that’s family. I still want to remain professional in front of my bosses and focus on doing my job.
But every time I pass by Ronan, he’s winking at me. Whispering dirty things. Flirting with me. Making me goddamn blush.It’s getting hard to keep my panties from getting wet.
Despite my inner struggles, the pet drive is a massive success.
Lots and lots of homeless dogs, cats and even one hairless guinea pig end up finding new forever families.
Meghan is thrilled. The pets are full of happy wiggles. And it’s clear that the hockey players feel great about being involved in a good cause.
Even the local news station shows up briefly, doing a quick TV broadcast and a few player interviews. For once, Ronan is first in line to chat with a reporter, and he killed it.Florence will be so damn proud.
Between the hired photographer and my own amateur shots, I think we got tons of great photos. We could probably fill a whole calendar. Maybe that will be my next idea to the PR team. Who wouldn’t want to look at puppies, kittens, and hot hockey players every day of the year?
My eyes end up back on Ronan, watching as he hands over the leash of an awfully excited pitbull to her new owners. I grin.
Yeah. I could see him as Mr. February. And Mr. July. Hell, there’s not a single month that’d look bad on that man.
After the adoption drive is over, the team stays late, helping Meghan clean up.
“I’m so delighted that the event brought such positive attention to the school,” Mom says as she shakes hands with the players. “The kids who came were so excited to get pictures and autographs with you guys.”
“As well as brand new pets.” Ronan grins. “Sounds like they got a pretty good deal.”
When all is said and done, I’m in the mood for some of my Grammy’s baked treats. In the days leading up to her upcoming surgery, my grandmother isn’t working at her bakery. Instead, her hired helpers are running The Wildberry while Grammy rests at home.
“I want to swing by and visit my grandmother,” I tell Ronan as I’m snapping on my seatbelt at the end of the evening.
“Of course,” he says, his tone solemn as he starts the engine of his SUV.
We make the short drive in silence and when we get to Grammy’s house, we find her shuffling gingerly around her kitchen. My cousins, Ruby and Maya, hang around at the table, scrolling through their phones and keeping a watchful eye on our grandmother.
“Grammy!” I say with a happy squeal, rushing into the kitchen to squeeze her in a big hug.
Meanwhile Ronan stands cautiously in the hallway, not daring to cross over the unspoken line. My guess is he’s still scared from the way he got scolded the last time he tried to enter the family kitchen.
“Oh Nicky!” Grammy exclaims, beaming. “There’s my working girl!”
I freeze. My cousins snicker.
“Grammy,” I look around, lowering my voice. “I don’t think that’s the right phrase. That term doesn’t mean what you think it does.”
“Well, why the gosh darn not?” The stubborn lady says. “You’re hard working, and you're my girl.” What a stubborn lady.
I laugh. “Oh, never mind. I’ll be the best working girl you know.”
Catching my eyes, Ronan winks at me. Jerk.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” Grammy says as I help her into the living room so we can all sit.
“Well, Ronan and I were in town for work. And then I started thinking about your cherry crumble recipe. And then I started thinking about you . And I didn’t want to leave Honey Hill without coming to say hi.”
“Are you in a rush back? I want you to stay for family dinner tomorrow…both of you,” Grammy orders, her weak gaze bouncing between me and Ronan as we lower into our seats. Her face grows somber. “It’s our last family dinner before my eye surgery.”
There’s a pull inside my chest.
I meet Ronan’s eyes, silently asking him if he’s down for family dinner. I’d warn him about what he’s getting into, but he already attended our Christmas meal a while ago, so this can’t be much worse. I think .
Ronan gives me a small smile and a nod, answering my unspoken question.
I turn back to the old lady. “Of course, Grammy. We’ll be there.”
Grammy stares at Ronan for the longest time, a soft smile lingering on her face. He smiles back cluelessly. The poor guy doesn’t even realize that she’s sizing him up.
Then she leans over and taps his hand softly with her wrinkled finger. “You know that my Nicky is a special girl?”
He nods solemnly, the seriousness on his face making my heart flutter. “Yes, ma’am. Nicky is very special. She’s one of a kind.”
Grammy’s head bobs. “In case you were wondering, my granddaughter gets her stubbornness from me. And her nice butt, too.”
“Told ya,” Ronan turns and mumbles to me. I poke him in the upper arm.
Grammy laughs. “Oh, Nicky. Stop playing coy. You know that nice butts run in the family.”
Laughing, I shake my head.
Her attention goes back to Ronan. “Would you like to know the secret to my granddaughter’s heart?”
“Very much so.” The eager words rush out of Ronan’s mouth before I can start to argue. His eyes flash to mine, warm and sincere and full of admiration.
I’m taken aback. His expression looks so real. But then I remember—our relationship is just for practice. I’m not his end game and he’s not mine.
Grammy smiles, bringing me back to the conversation. “Cherry crumble.”
Ronan’s eyebrows jerk upward in surprise, and I laugh. “Grammy, stop telling this man all my dirty secrets.”
The elderly lady completely ignores me. “In fact, I’m in the mood for some cherry crumble myself.” She slowly gets up from her seat. “I could sure use some help measuring out the ingredients with these bad eyes of mine. Come help me.”
He doesn’t question her. He doesn’t even hesitate. Ronan pops out of his seat, holding Grammy’s hand as she takes him into the kitchen.When she confidently sets her treasured recipe book into his capable hands, I almost drop to the ground.
I would be swooning over their adorableness if I weren’t freaking out on the inside.
Grammy just pulled Ronan into the kitchen, so she could teach him one of her top secret recipes.
My cousins make eye contact with me across the distance, their eyeballs bulging. I nod at the girls, feeling just as shocked as they do.
My heart does a flip, and my eyes start prickling. Because this is about way more than just a cherry pie recipe. Grammy only shares her recipes with family members. Everybody knows that.
Yet here she is, inviting a man she’s only met a handful of times into the secret vault. She’s teaching him one of the recipes she has fiercely guarded exclusively for our family for decades.
So whatever is happening in there, Ronan just earned Grammy’s stamp of approval. She just unofficially inducted him into the Westbrook family.
And I don’t know what to do with that.