Chapter 12
Tanner
Present day
“Mornin’.”
I jerk my chin at Hunter who’s currently shoving a couple of Fallon’s bags into the back of his truck and he gives me a nod of his head, a smirk playing on his mouth.
I narrow my eyes on him before scoping out the breakfast bags his girlfriend is peeking into, perched on the middle log around the unlit fire-pit.
“What’s up with the… smile?” I ask him, slow and suspicious.
“Who’s smiling?” he replies, full-on grinning.
I watch him for a moment and then give him a smirk of my own, stepping over the log and dropping down heavily right next to Fallon. Her little thigh against my big quad. Her soft shoulder against my hard one.
Safe to say, he is no longer smiling.
I reach around Fallon’s shoulder so that I can grab one of those breakfast doughnuts and then I push a couple inches away from her, waiting for the information.
“Well?” I ask, hunching forward and ripping into the doughnut.
Strawberry jelly , I think to myself, as I finish off the other half. Aisling’s favourite.
“Well what?” Hunter asks, shutting the back door of his truck, eyes on the small space between his girlfriend and me as he makes his way over to the fire-pit. When he reaches us he carefully eases Fallon a little further over to her right and then sits squarely between us, subtly pulverising my boot.
I snicker, give him a kick of my own, and move over to the log on their left.
“You’re lucky that wasn’t the bad ankle,” I drawl, thinking back to the injury I got right before the NCAA Championship final earlier this year. I was advised to not play it but no way could I miss our last game. “Otherwise you’d be finding your ass” – I jerk my thumb toward the lake lapping beside us – “in there.”
Hunter’s cheek tics up with humour, although he winces when he glances down at my other boot.
“It’s fine now, right?” he asks, rolling his shoulders in discomfort.
I grunt, not wanting to talk about an injury that should never have happened. It was barely an issue when it did, but I’m not so far up my own ass to know that repetitive sprains are not ideal for a hockey player. Seeing as I’ll be starting pro at the end of the summer I’m not exactly on the hunt for too many brawls, and I don’t want to exacerbate a dormant injury in the meantime.
“It’s fine.” I clear my throat. “Y’all heading to your parents’ this weekend or something?”
Hunter wraps his forearm around Fallon’s neck and says, “Yeah. We’ll be back Monday.”
Instinctively I glance across the lake, brow creasing when I see that Aisling isn’t there. She’s not up on her balcony like she has been every other morning, and the 4x4 that she’s driving isn’t parked up next to her new porch. My knee bounces up and down, wondering where she’s gone to.
Today is the first morning that I haven’t woken up before six to work out, and my chest tightens with guilt over breaking up our secret routine. I didn’t even realise how goddamn tired I was last night until I hit the pillow and went out stone cold.
Although I’ll admit, I woke up pretty fucking amazing though.
I shift on the log and jerk a thumb toward the lake house.
“She mention anything last night?” I ask, looking across at Fallon.
She blinks up at me for a moment and then gives me a sparkly smile.
“Aw!” she says. “I bet she was the first thing you thought about this morning, huh?”
I clear my throat and avert my eyes because Aisling definitely is what I was thinking about when I woke myself up this morning.
“…Sure,” I say awkwardly. Then, “So did she say anything or not?”
Fallon squeals out a happy laugh.
“I need, like, a minute to process this,” she says. “I wish that you understood how cute the whole burly cinnamon roll thing is.”
I blink at her.
Cinnamon roll?
Then I make a gravelly sound in the back of my throat.
“Fallon.”
“Fine,” she relents, still laughing. “So, I don’t know about her seeing the porch last night because we stayed in this cabin with you, but–”
“Wait, what?”
My head snaps up, suddenly on high alert.
“You slept in the cabin last night? You… you let her sleep over there alone?”
My leg is no longer bouncing.
Fallon’s lips part into an o , and she glances quickly up at Hunter.
“Well, obviously we said that we’d stay with her… but she said that she was okay staying over there on her own. Like, I think that she wanted to be on her own.”
I shove my tongue in my cheek, my breathing turning a little uneven.
She slept over in that un-fucking-locked lake house alone ?
“Tanner, I swear, we wouldn’t have left her alone if she hadn’t asked us to. Besides, Tristan walked her over there because it was dark and–”
My eyes burn into Fallon’s and she instantly halts.
“Uh,” she says breathlessly, “what I meant to say is that–”
“Tristan walked her home?” I ask, serial killer calm.
Fallon squints into the sunrise and makes a wishy-washy sound, fingers twiddling frantically with her fluffy blonde ponytail.
“You see them go over there?”
She twists her lips to the side and squeaks out a tiny, “Maybe.”
“They kiss or what?”
Fallon’s eyes fly up to mine and she lets out a nervous hiccup.
Hunter breathes out a laugh, holding Fallon tighter so that she can nuzzle up on his chest.
“No way,” he says, his voice confident and gruff. “Connell didn’t let ’em out of his sight. Might’ve pecked her on the cheek but–”
I don’t hear the rest of the sentence as my blood rushes around my temples.
Pecked her on the cheek.
I try not to picture one of my former Carter U teammates holding Aisling under the moonlight, probably resting up all cosy against the railing that I’d just goddamn made. But it’s right there anyway, ready to haunt me for the rest of my life.
I tug my shirt away from my neck and rasp, “Where is she now?”
“She’s gone to town for supplies,” Fallon says. “…and some pyjamas.”
My eyes flash to Fallon.
“She’s doing what?”
Fallon blinks at me in surprise. “She needs some clothes to sleep in?”
Seeing red, I shove a hand through my hair and inhale so deep that my chest doubles up.
Aisling already has clothes to sleep in. My clothes. First, she lets Tristan cosy up to her, close enough to peck her on the cheek . Then, she’s buying herself pyjamas, when there’s a solid khaki shirt over there in that lake house for her to snuggle down in. A really good fucking shirt that’s been worn in just right.
I roll my shoulders back, and heave myself up off the log.
“I’m going to town,” I decide, quickly glancing down at myself – boots, jeans, and a plain grey shirt, hopefully looking presentable enough for Aisling. I tug the cotton away from where it’s clinging to my pecs, nodding to Hunter and Fallon as I leave.
The roads are pretty empty even by the time that I reach Main Street, so I go idle on the accelerator, roll down the window, and just bake through the windshield while taking my time checking the shop windows. Just as I’m nearing the end of the block a large 4x4 catches my eye, and I’m instantly pulling back around – doing a U turn and a slack-jawed double take.
I park right up next to Connell’s car and stare at the shop that Aisling’s parked outside of. I can see her through the window, swishing her hair and browsing lazily. I rub my palms down my jeans, heart pounding wildly as I watch her.
It’s a fucking lingerie shop. And she’s in there, right now, brushing her fingers over a table of lace like she has intentions of actually buying that shit.
Who the fuck is she buying lingerie for?
Tristan? One of her brother’s football teammates?
I throw myself out of the driver’s side and slam the door behind me.
Not on my watch.
I trudge straight ahead to the little white boutique, all but ripping the door off its hinges as I yank the thing open.
Aisling, now casually sashaying around a table a little further back, looks up in surprise, does a double-take, and then flutters her lashes at me innocently as I storm right for her.
“Am I in trouble, Officer?” she breathes, before rolling her eyes and giving me a sexy glare.
“We’re leaving,” I tell her, not stopping until we’re toe to toe.
She swishes deeper into the store, making me curse as I follow after her. “Uh, you’re leaving, I’m not. How did you even find me, stalker?”
“Your car’s parked outside. Anyone with eyes could find you.” I clear my throat hard and fold my arms over my chest, standing barely a millimetre away from her as she stops at another table. Her fingers glide tauntingly over wisps of baby pink lace. “Heard you were looking for some pyjamas.”
I glance down at the basket in her hands, chest swelling to five times its size when I take in what she’s got in there. Nothing but straight up hook-up panties.
I shift my belt buckle to the side and roll back one of my shoulders. “Doesn’t look like there’s any pyjamas in there.”
Aisling gasps as she sees what I’m looking at, and quickly hides her basket behind her little ass. Little does she know, those panties are seared into my brain for life.
“Those are for my eyes only,” she says with a dignified frown. Then she lifts her chin and says, “But… technically that is correct. I am looking for pyjamas.”
I lower my voice so that the sales assistant can’t hear us. “You’ve already got pyjamas,” I remind her, snatching a lacy tank out of her hands when she lifts it off the table, eyes on mine as she holds it tauntingly over her basket.
I slap the top back down onto the counter, watching as she drops another pair of panties into her basket.
Black ones. Fuck.
“You want another shirt or something?” I ask her, voice deep and rough. I’m so turned on that my pecs are twitching. “I’ll give you another shirt.” I’ll give you anything that you want. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“Why?” she asks, suddenly frowning. “So you can come back later and buy something special for your girlfriend?”
I smirk down at her. “Is that what you like to call yourself?”
Growling like a little animal she smacks a pair of panties straight off my chest. I blink down at the pink lace, then cautiously peel them off my pecs.
“Real nice,” she says, her bottom lip wobbling dangerously. “I’m sure that she’d love to hear you joking around like that.”
I toss the panties aside and grip Aisling’s elbow.
“Aisling. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Let me go, you giant annoying big shot!”
She slaps her palm against my abs and I clench my jaw, trying to calm my breathing.
“First of all,” I say quietly, quickly manoeuvring her further away from the sales assistant, “you need to stop calling me ‘big shot’, unless you want me to remind you of how right you are. And second of all” – I pull her around so that we’re face to face – but she keeps her nose in the air, eyes looking anywhere but into mine – “why the fuck would you think that I have a girlfriend?”
She keeps her face turned as far away from me as possible but, after a couple of huffy sighs, she gives me a curious glance.
“Iheardyouonthephone,” she mumbles.
A crease forms on my brow, still at a loss to what she’s talking about. “You… heard me on the phone? When did you–?”
Suddenly I’m hissing through my teeth as she pinches roughly at my nipple, my hand tightening on her elbow as I try to blink through the sting.
“Goddammit, woman,” I say hoarsely, as I try to prise off her murder-grip. Our eyes meet and lock, a heated warning in my blown out pupils. My chest heaves up and down, a ripple of pleasure slicing through my pec.
When I see her fingers in my peripheral twitching to pinch some more, I breathe out a laugh, grab her wrist, and position myself behind her.
“Just so you know, baby ,” I grind out, shoving my chest against her shoulders, “if you’re doing that to elicit some kind of negative reaction, you should know that it doesn’t have the effect that you seem to think. Now tell me why you think that I’m dating someone so that I can clear this shit up for you, right now.”
She uses her free hand to slap another pair of panties off of my chest.
I grunt quietly and toss them aside.
“You done?” I rumble, still holding her wrist.
She shoots a scowl at me over her shoulder before sliding her eyes back down to the panty display.
I huff out a laugh and turn her around to face me.
“Talk to me, Aisling.”
There’s a wounded look in her sparkling eyes as she finally confesses.
“I just told you,” she mumbles. “I heard you on the phone and you said ‘I love you’.”
I’m momentarily taken aback, shoulders tensing before I realise what she’s talking about.
I keep my fist wrapped around her wrist and stroke my thumb over her soft skin.
“Aisling,” I sigh, wishing that I could pull her up against my chest. Heat scales my neck as I mumble, “Aisling, I was talking to my mom.”
Her eyes widen on mine before slowly trailing down the front of my body. My muscles flex under her heated gaze.
“Your mom,” she breathes out, when she’s finally looking at our feet – her pretty sandals tucked safely between the wide stance of my boots.
“Yeah.”
I can see that she’s curious as hell but too proud to ask more questions, so I just stand there, holding her forearms, feeling like I’m dreaming.
After staring at me with those big eyes for a good ten seconds Aisling finally purses her lips and begrudgingly mumbles out a, “Thank you.”
I lift an eyebrow in surprise, tugging her instinctively closer. “What’s that now?”
Her voice is all sweet and husky when she looks up at me and says, “Thank you.”
I’m almost too shocked to speak. “What for?” I rasp.
She frees her wrists from my palms, hypnotising me as she re-ties her ponytail. “The railing,” she replies, twisting her hair through the band, tighter and tighter. “Thank you for the railing.”
Satisfaction at her approval warms my chest.
I clear my throat, shove a hand through my hair, and give her a quick nod.
That’s not the only railing that I wanna give you, baby.
We watch each other in silence for a couple of beats and then, without another word, Aisling resumes her perusal of the tables, this time effortlessly relaxed as I follow right behind her, barely a millimetre standing between us.
It feels as though we’ve reached a mutual understanding. I’m not seeing anyone else. I want to spend my time proving to Aisling how much I like her. And Aisling will do whatever she wants, while tolerating me trying to win her over.
I place one fist beside her hip as she pauses at another panty table, chest brushing against her shoulders with every breath that I take.
Her little basket catches my eye and I reluctantly glance down at it.
“What’re you getting anyway?” I mumble, frowning down at the three strips of lace that I can see in there.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” she says, casual as hell.
I huff out a laugh. Oh I’ll worry alright . “This for your bucket list, huh?”
Ignoring me, she holds a new pair up right in front of her face, pretty ribbons all tangled around her fingers. She makes a questioning hmmm sound, then frowns and shoves them back in the pile.
I blink down at the panties, so fucking confused as she picks up another pair that’s practically identical.
I grab the ones that she just put back and toss them quickly into her basket.
She looks down at the basket, amusement glinting in her eyes. “What’re you doing?” she asks.
A deep sound rumbles up my throat. “Those were a yes,” I say quietly.
She cocks a hip and lifts her eyebrow. “What?”
I tug at the neckline of my shirt and rasp, “You, uh… you liked ’em enough to look at them extra close. And they were… nice. So they’re a yes.”
“A yes?” she asks, moving slightly closer. Close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating out from beneath her tank top. I glance down at her chest, swallow hard, and meet her eyes again.
“Like, a yes pile versus a no pile.” If Aisling was my chick, all of this stuff would be on the yes pile. “A yes pile is, like, all of the things that you should get.”
She hums in understanding and tilts her head, smiling prettily.
“So those were a yes?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. They’re crotchless.”
I hunch forwards, suddenly choking.
“But fine,” she continues, brushing right past me. “They’re on the yes pile.”
“Oh no you don’t,” I growl, hooking a forearm around her middle, making her squeal as I haul her back to me.
Our eyes meet and my chest swells as something like excitement shimmers in her irises.
“Put them back,” I demand, neither of us blinking.
“But I thought you liked them,” she says, all wide-eyed and mock-pouting. Her fingers slip into her basket, hook around the panties, and then she holds them right in front of my chin, her eyebrows lifted. A silent question of you don’t want me to keep them?
I glance down at the panties for a half-second and grunt.
With my eyes back on hers I murmur, “You’re a tease.”
She flutters her eyelashes at me, slowing down my brain.
And then she smacks the panties clean off my jaw.
“That’s it.”
A deep sound thunders in my chest as I crush Aisling up against my abdomen, squeals of delight tinkling out of her as I slap the crotchless panties back inside her basket. I take the handles and yank them so that I’m the one carrying her very expensive lingerie, and then I cart her back to the middle of the store so that she can grab what she came here for and never step back through those doors again.
I face her in front of a rack of ‘pyjamas’ and give her a squeeze.
“Pick one and then we’re leaving,” I tell her, not much caring for the fact that I can feel her cell phone vibrating in her back pocket. I can take a good guess at who the hell that’ll be.
Feeling the same thing that I am she shoots a look at me over her shoulder, pupils all sparkly and dialled out with a naughty smile on her lips.
“That better not be who I think it is,” I rumble quietly.
Her eyes twinkle brighter. “What’re you gonna do about it, big shot?”
My chest expands as she hits me with that word. She pushes her vibrating cell harder against my thigh.
Refusing to take the bait I tear my gaze away from hers and look blankly at the row of pyjama tops in front of me. I lift the hand clutching the basket and run a knuckle over the fabric.
“This shit’s not cotton,” I murmur, flicking through the rack to try and search for something that Aisling will actually sleep comfortably in. “All these tops are just gonna make you sweat. As soon as you’ve got it on you’re gonna end up taking it off–”
As the words leave my mouth understanding finally dawns. Heat spreads through my cheekbones as Aisling watches me over her shoulder.
Of course none of this shit is going to be comfortable. We’re in a goddamn lingerie shop – these clothes are purposefully designed so that, once you’re in them, you end up out of them.
These are hook-up pyjamas.
I swallow hard and step away from the rack.
“I’ll give you another shirt,” I rumble, dropping my forearm from her belly, grabbing her wrist, and dragging her to the next table. All panties. Of fucking course.
Aisling scoffs. “Uh, I think that I’ll be the judge of what I do and do not buy, Tanner,” she says, rolling her eyes at me.
“You’re not the one doing the buying,” I tell her as I finally spot what it is that I was looking for, pulling her toward them with me. I glance at her over my shoulder as she tries to dig her heels in and I pull my wallet out of my pocket. “I am.”
Her eyes go stratospherically wide. “Oh no you’re not,” she whispers, unblinking as I slip my card from the holder and toss it down into the basket with her panties.
She lets out a little gasp.
I shake my head and turn back to the table, so that I can grab the pair of panties that I would die to see Aisling slip up and down her thighs. She watches me in stilled silence as I hesitate above them, then snatch the khaki thong and toss it down with her other items. I don’t meet her eyes as I drag her with me to the till.
I drop the basket on the counter, remove my card, and wait for the sales lady to do her thing.
Aisling fumbles in her shorts as she tries to find her card, throwing me these confused, kind of aghast glances every few seconds. I lean casually against the counter, wondering if she realises now that she’s the one gripping my hand in a chokehold.
I tap my card, thank the sales assistant, and steer Aisling out of the shop, her hand still in mine.
It isn’t until I’ve brought her to the driver’s side of her brother’s 4x4, leaning against the back door as I hold her discreet little panty bag between us, that she realises that the big warm thing wrapped around her palm is my giant hockey player fist.
Seeing the sight of her hand enveloped in mine she releases a little squeak and stumbles against her door. She yanks her hand away and looks up at me with wide eyes.
I drop a forearm on the hood of the car and push the bag against her chest.
“Baby, I just spent two hundred dollars on five pairs of your panties,” I drawl. “The last thing you need to be worried about is a little hand holding.”
“I didn’t… I didn’t…” She’s blinking fast, a little dazed as she clutches her fingers into the pink bag. “I didn’t… mean to. It just… happened.”
I watch her carefully, a slight crease on my brow.
“I know,” I tell her, my voice quiet and deep. “And that’s how it’s always going to be with us, Aisling. Inevitable. Meant to be.”
She frowns up at me, shaking her head. “You sound crazy right now,” she whispers.
My cheek tics up. “Tell that to your blown out pupils.”
I give the top of the car a quick slap and motion for her to get inside.
“Hunter and Fallon have gone back to Carter Ridge for the weekend, but the rest of us are heading to the bar tonight,” I say as she unlocks the driver’s side and pulls the door open. “You’re coming with us.”
“Oh am I now?” she asks dryly, before leaning forwards. Carefully placing the panty bag on her passenger seat.
I give myself a couple of seconds to enjoy the view of her little ass pressing against my jeans.
She throws me a look over her shoulder that tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Little tease .
“And by the way?” I add, gripping the top of the door as she goes to slam it.
She gives me a sexy eye-roll as she sighs and says, “Yes?”
“Next time you wanna spy on someone while they’re sleeping, maybe walk into a few less walls.”
Her eyes fly up to mine as I step back and close her door.
She pulls out of her parking spot with cheeks more pink than her new panties.