Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Asher
Coming to Maplewood wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
The thought hits me as I’m standing in the guest house bedroom, getting ready for Beverly’s party.
The past few days since Kat and I went skating have been nicer and easier than I ever would’ve imagined when I decided to come to this small town to help out Edward.
When I booked the flight, there was pretty much nothing I was looking forward to about the trip.
The awkwardness with Edward, the isolation of being stuck in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, the constant reminder that my career is in limbo.
But it hasn’t been like that at all.
Kat and I have seen each other every day, meeting up in the main cabin’s kitchen for coffee and breakfast before heading off to do whatever we’ve got planned.
It’s become a routine that I didn’t expect to develop, didn’t plan for, but now I can’t imagine my mornings here without it.
I like the way she shuffles into the kitchen still looking half-asleep, her hair messy and her eyes not quite open.
How she makes a beeline for the coffee maker before she can form complete sentences.
The little hum of satisfaction after she takes her first sip.
I find myself looking forward to it every morning.
Looking forward to seeing her, to hearing about whatever art project she’s working on or what she’s planning to do that day.
I glance over toward the main cabin as soon as I wake up to see if her curtains are open yet, which tells me she’s awake.
In the evening before bed, I check to see if her lights are still on, wondering if she’s sketching in that little notepad or reading or brushing her teeth.
There have been a couple more nights where we’ve texted until it’s late, lying in our separate beds messaging back and forth.
We’ve talked about books we’ve read, places we want to travel, and weird childhood memories that seem funnier now than they did at the time.
Last night, we texted until almost two in the morning, and at one point I almost said fuck it and just called her instead.
I wanted to hear her voice, to be able to talk without the lag of waiting for the next message to come through, to hear her laugh in real-time instead of just imagining it.
But something about that felt too personal, too intimate, like crossing a line that I’m not sure we should cross. So I didn’t.
The stuff with Edward has been going okay too, which surprises me almost as much as the thing with Kat.
I’ve gone to his place two more times, doing more work around the house.
Tightening loose railings on the back deck, fixing a squeaky door hinge, and replacing the weather stripping around the windows so that his heating bill won’t be astronomical.
They’re just little things, but they add up.
I’m determined to get his place in good shape so there’s nothing he’ll need to worry about after I leave.
Honestly, I think part of the reason my time with him hasn’t been too bad is because of Kat. Being around her relaxes me, puts me in a better mood, and I bring that with me when I visit Edward.
Our conversations are still awkward sometimes, still twisted up with years of confusion, distance, and resentment.
But they’re getting easier. Yesterday, we actually talked for almost twenty minutes about Murphy’s weird habit of sitting in the bathroom sink, and it felt almost…
normal. Almost like how a father and son might talk if they hadn’t spent years estranged from each other.
I step in front of the mirror that’s attached to the wall in the bedroom, frowning as I second-guess my outfit choice for the evening. I’ve got on a long-sleeved shirt made of soft fabric in a neutral cream color, but it looks too casual.
“Dammit,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face.
I feel nervous in a way I can’t quite explain, which is ridiculous. It’s just a Christmas party. I’ve dealt with media interviews, contract negotiations, and playing high-stakes games in front of thousands of screaming fans. A party with Kat’s family and friends should be nothing.
But it doesn’t feel like nothing.
Still frowning at my reflection in the mirror, I grab my phone and text Kat.
ME: Okay, remind me what the dress code for this party is?
I wait, staring at the screen. Her response comes back quickly.
KAT: Dressy, but not too dressy.
I snort out loud.
ME: That’s not super helpful, bright eyes.
KAT: *crying emoji* I know!!! I can’t decide what to wear. I’ve tried on three different dresses, and I hate all of them.
I glance over toward the main cabin through the window.
The bedroom is empty, but as I watch, a dress comes flying out of the en suite bathroom’s doorway, landing in a heap on her bed.
A pang of awareness shoots through me, heat flooding my veins.
She probably just took that dress off to put something else on, which means she’s in the bathroom right now in only her underwear.
I can’t help the sudden image that flashes through my mind of Kat standing in front of the mirror in her bra and panties, having rejected yet another dress option. I imagine the curve of her waist, the softness of her thighs, all that skin I’ve been trying really hard not to think about…
Pushing that thought aside forcefully, I stride over to the small closet and flip through the shirts I brought.
I pull out a different one, dark blue and more formal, and hold it up against my chest. Then I put it back.
I consider the first shirt again, the pale green one I already tried on and rejected.
This is getting ridiculous.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I text Kat back.
ME: How about this? In fifteen minutes, we’ll meet downstairs wearing whatever we’re wearing when the time is up. That forces the decision. No more second-guessing.
KAT: Deal. Although in that case, I probably won’t be wearing anything by the time you get here.
Another jolt of heat goes through me, stronger this time. I stare at the message for a second, my imagination immediately supplying a dozen thoughts I shouldn’t be having.
KAT: Kidding! Obviously kidding. I’ll be ready in fifteen. I can do it. I’ll make a decision and stick with it.
ME: I believe in you. You’ve got this.
I set my phone down, chuckling to myself despite the lingering heat in my veins, and stare hard at my closet for several long moments before I finally make a decision to err on the dressy side. Better to be overdressed than underdressed, right?
I pull out a charcoal suit that’s perfectly tailored, the kind of thing I wear to team events, before games, or at media appearances where I need to look professional and put-together.
I brought it just in case there was some occasion that required it, and this seems like the right time to bust it out.
If I’m meeting Kat’s grandmother for the first time at her big annual party, I should probably make a good impression.
I get dressed quickly, buttoning the shirt and taking my time with the tie, then pulling on the suit jacket and checking that everything sits right.
Then I move closer to the mirror, leaning in a bit as I try to do something with my hair.
It’s getting too long, shaggier than I usually keep it, but I haven’t had time to get a haircut.
I run my hand through it a few times, trying to tame it into something that looks intentional rather than just messy.
When I’m done, I check the time. Exactly fifteen minutes have passed since I sent that text.
Game time.
I grab my keys, wallet, and phone, take one more look in the mirror to make sure I don’t look like an idiot, and head out.
The walk to the main cabin only takes about thirty seconds, but the cold air feels good against my face. It clears my head a little, helping me focus on something other than the unaccountable nerves churning in my stomach. I knock on the back door and wait, shoving my hands in my pockets.
Kat opens it a moment later, and the sight of her almost knocks me over.
She’s wearing a deep green dress that brings out her eyes in a way that makes them look darker than usual.
The fabric is rich and jewel-toned, and it hugs her curves perfectly.
It’s not revealing, exactly, but it shows off her figure in a way that makes me very aware of every line and curve.
Her hair is styled soft and loose around her shoulders, falling in waves that look natural but probably took effort.
She’s wearing makeup too, more than usual, and it makes her eyes look huge and her lips look full and kissable.
She looks stunning. More than stunning.
Her gaze roams over me too, taking in the suit as she tugs that plump bottom lip between her teeth. I don’t speak for a long moment—truthfully, I’m not sure I can speak—and as the silence stretches between us, her expression shifts, self-consciousness flashing across her face.
“Is this okay?” She grimaces, gesturing to her dress with one hand. “I wasn’t sure if it was too much or not enough, or if the color is weird, or—”
“You look beautiful,” I say, cutting off her rambling. My voice comes out huskier than I meant for it to, but fuck, I can’t help it.
She half smiles, color rising on her cheeks. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Really beautiful.”
The words feel inadequate for what I’m actually thinking, which is that she looks like every fantasy I’ve been trying not to have about her. But I can’t say that. We’re fake dating. This is all pretend, and it can’t really ever become anything else. I need to get my head straight.
Her smiles widens, pleased and a little shy. “You look really good too. I wasn’t expecting the full suit.”
I shrug. “Well, I figured I should make a good impression on your grandmother.”
“Mission accomplished.”
She grabs her coat from the hook by the door, a long wool one, and I step forward to help her into it. My fingers brush against her neck as I lift her hair free from the collar, and I feel her shiver slightly at the contact.
As we head toward my rental car, I realize it started snowing at some point. Not a lot, just light flakes drifting down through the darkness, but it gets a bit heavier as we start to drive.
Kat is quiet on the way over, looking out the window at the snow falling past the streetlights. When I glance at her, I find myself searching for words and coming up empty too.
It takes a while to reach her grandmother’s house, but thankfully, we arrive before the silence can to turn into anything too awkward. When we pull up outside, there are already a lot of cars lining both sides of the street, so we have to park about three houses down.
The house itself is impressive. One of those big old buildings that’s probably been in the family for generations, with a wraparound porch and turrets on the corners. The whole place is lit up, lights strung along the railings and wrapped around the porch columns.
I get out and walk around to open Kat’s door, the falling snow dusting my shoulders. I offer my hand to help her out of the car, and she takes it without hesitation.
“Are you ready for this?” she asks, looking up at me with those big green eyes.
As I gaze down at her, snowflakes catching on her hair and lashes and melting almost immediately on her warm skin, I suddenly don’t know if I am. But I nod anyway, injecting confidence into my voice that I don’t entirely feel.
“Yup,” I tell her as she stands up beside me, her hand still wrapped in mine. “Let’s do this.”