Chapter 38
Alyssa watched Nick walk down the sidewalk. He was cradling the shells Tyler had given to him and Sammy, but he had a curiously triumphant look on his face. She had come here to explain herself and, she hoped, to make amends, but his expression was infuriating. He looked … smug.
“Oh, hi,” he said, as though he hadn’t seen her coming, and set his jawline to “extra full of himself.”
“Hi,” she said. “Taking your shells for a walk?” He flushed. But he stopped and looked at her, and now she had to say something. She gripped the folder she’d brought with both hands and realized that she probably looked like a chipmunk. “I wasn’t sure I was clear when we talked on the phone.”
He started walking again, and she fell into step. “You were pretty clear.”
She inhaled sharply. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “I thought maybe I sounded ungrateful. It’s that I’ve wanted my own agency for forever. I used to draw floor plans for my doll house and rearrange the furniture. When I was little—before Dad gambled and lost everything.”
“You played with the furniture instead of the dolls?” That made him smile.
She laughed. “Well, yes. And I painted throw rugs and little pictures for the walls. I was definitely more into the decor.”
“Hey, would you carry one of these shells?” he asked. “I don’t want to drop them.”
“Oh.” She stuck the folder under her arm and took the top shell, aware of what it meant to him and that he was trusting her with something important. “Um, why are you carrying them around the block?”
He grinned. “I moved. Today.” She stared at him. “Stacey still wanted to film at my place. I thought beating her to it would keep her from making her own commercial, but she doesn’t give up.” He glanced at her ruefully. “Usually I like that in a person.” Alyssa laughed. “So I called the guys and moved this afternoon.”
“For real? You just …?”
“The contract says she can film in a space you designed and I live in. But I don’t live there. So I win.”
She let that sink in. “You would do basically anything to win.”
“Yep.”
They’d reached his new apartment building. The layout was different from the place she’d been in. It had stairs on the outside and was five stories tall. “My apartment’s on the top floor,” he said. “Do you mind carrying that up?”
“No, that’s fine.” She hadn’t said what she’d come to say, but now there were the stairs and hockey players milling around, and she was throwing elbows out to protect that shell, and when they got to the top floor with its dark blue carpet and white walls, there were even more players.
“Home sweet home!” Devin called cheerfully, and opened the door for them.
Nick walked in first and looked around. “You guys did good. Looks nice.”
Like heck it did. The dining table cut off the natural traffic flow; the coffee table was too close to the sofa; and the floor lamp was turned so the task light would illuminate a spot on the floor, not his book if he sat on the sofa. The coffeemaker was as far from the sink as possible and … maybe not even by an outlet? The walls were white, the—
“Alyssa?” She blinked up at Nick. “Can I have the shell?” His hand was out, and she realized he’d already put the other two on top of the bookcase. Which was four inches off center. What was wrong with these guys? She handed him the shell and watched his butt as he walked to the bookcase, and his shoulders as he stretched up to put the final shell in place. He turned back to her, and she was aware of the other guys milling around, so she said, “Nice view,” and Jakub, the Czech in the loud shirt, laughed out loud. She flushed and waved toward the large windows that overlooked the building across the street. That wasn’t where she’d been looking, and Jakub had obviously noticed.
“What’s in the folder?” Nick asked.
Her face grew hotter. Circulation was really a stupid idea. “I thought if I showed you …” And that was dumb too. He wouldn’t care about pink cookies or champagne flutes. She blinked and held the folder across her chest.
Nick turned to his teammates. “Hey, I owe you guys big time.”
There was a rowdy chorus of agreement. “You can thank us with beer!” someone shouted.
“I’ll do that. Now head out and let me talk to Alyssa for a minute, okay?”
The guys moved off cheerfully, slapping one another on the back and coming up with slogans for a Red Wheels Same-Day Moving Service, several of which were obscene.
“You want to sit down?” Nick asked, waving toward the seating area. “I have a really nice sofa.”
“You do,” she said, and walked over and sat on its edge, slanting her legs princess-style.
“I’ll probably need to have it painted,” he said. “The room. Not the sofa.” This was as close to him being a chatterbox as she’d ever seen. Was he … nervous?
“I felt like I wasn’t clear on the phone, and I just wanted to explain.”
He nodded. He was listening. Was there an actual chance to fix this?
“I’ve wanted to have my own agency ever since I was a little girl. I also wanted to own a magical pony farm, of course.”
“Naturally.” He smiled and it warmed his eyes. He sat beside her, turned toward her, his shoulders bulky and his pants straining over his thighs. His hands rested on his knees, and she tried not to stare at them, but they were good hands—strong fingers, gentle when they stroked down her abdomen.
She cleared her throat and hastily flipped the folder open, fanning it so he had some idea just how much it contained. “These are my launch party ideas. I had plans for invitations and decorations and …” She hesitated, then decided to tell the truth. “I’ve probably spent a dozen hours choosing which font to use.”
He smiled again. “Which one did you choose?”
She threw a hand up. “I haven’t decided yet! I don’t have the party all planned yet. I’m not ready.”
He nodded slowly. “You didn’t really want to start a business. You just wanted to have a party.”
That made her bristle. “No,” she said deliberately. “I wanted to start a business, but I wanted to do it right. Appropriately. And I wanted to do it my way, when I was ready.”
He studied her. “How would you know when you’re ready?”
That made her stop. “I’d know. And I wanted to do it by myself.”
“You’d do it all yourself?”
“Yes.”
“No help from anybody? Nobody giving you a little boost?”
“No. I’m capable of doing it myself.”
“I don’t think you are.” She stared at him. His voice softened. “Alyssa, nobody can go it alone. You know what would happen to us if we took the ice without Leif?”
“He’s the goalkeeper, right?”
Nick sighed. “Yes.”
“Probably the other team would score a lot. Although maybe it wouldn’t matter because apparently your defense is really bad anyway.”
He raised an eyebrow at that.
“My stepdad has opinions on defense.”
“Coach says pretty much the same thing.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, and that was just an unfair distraction. “Everybody needs a team, Alyssa. You’d have an easier time in life if you understood more about hockey.”
“I’d be better off if I took swings at smelly toothless dudes?” She flushed. That might have been a little unfair, but Nick grinned.
“That’s not the whole game,” he said. “It’s not all that fun.” He pondered that for a moment. “Okay, yes, it is.” He grinned at her again, and she had an urgent desire to find a block of cheddar and grind it on his face. She was pretty sure his jaw really would slice it cleanly. “Can I ask you something?”
She nodded and he turned serious. “Why can’t you have a launch party now?” She blinked and looked down at her folder, which she held in a death grip. “Lemme see,” he said gently, and when she didn’t move, he pried her fingers up, one by one, a smile playing at the curve of his mouth where the softness of his lips gave way to rugged stubble. He slid the folder out, raised his eyebrows for permission, and when she still didn’t say anything, he flipped it open.
“So you’ve got a lot of stuff in here,” he said. He lifted three stapled pages with possible icing recipes for the writing on the cookies. “Some women don’t put this much thought into their weddings.”
“Oh yes, they do,” she whispered. He grinned at her and looked through the folder with attention. It made her feel naked. Not the fun kind.
“You have seriously planned the kickoff,” he said. “I will grant you that. But Alyssa, why not open your agency? Since you clearly want to? Have the party, make the”—he turned a paper upside down and then back again—“whatever this is. There are links to rental places—tents, chairs. Tulle by the yard?”
“It was just a thought,” she said. “I don’t think I’d use any tulle, though.”
“Huh. Well, it’s important to know your stance on tulle. We always make sure we have that straight before we hit the ice.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”
“No! I’m …” He ran his eyes comically back and forth, looking for a way out. “I’m making fun of tulle.” He smiled, pleased with himself.
She bumped his shoulder, an easy, intimate gesture that she immediately regretted. “I’m sorry my competitive streak ruined your party plans,” he said, waving the folder and then handing it back to her. “And I’m glad you explained. In my defense, I didn’t know you had your entire life planned out in detail. I genuinely thought I was doing something nice for you.”
“You were,” she mumbled. “But it felt like you were taking over.” He nodded and they sat silently for a moment. “It’s such a gamble—starting a business. So many of them fail. Long shots don’t pay off.”
“You’re talking to a guy who fell fifteen thousand feet in a toothpaste tube. I’m a living long shot.”
“But that would never happen again.”
“I sure as fuck hope not,” he said. “This is about your dad, right?” She didn’t say anything. “He gambled on things he couldn’t control. A throw of the dice, right? Or the turn of a card? You’re not gambling on chance: you’re betting on yourself.”
They sat silently for a moment. She’d never thought of it that way before. Then he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, just once, but she felt it everywhere. “I wish you’d gone out with me.” He looked back and forth between her eyes. “I know I should have apologized for getting you fired. I mean, I didn’t know you’d gotten fired because you didn’t tell me, but once I heard about it, I should have reached out. The commercial wasn’t just to beat Stacey. It was also the apology.” He smiled ruefully. “A little late and inarticulate, maybe.”
“It’s not your fault she fired me.”
“It is, though. It was because of the flowers, right?”
“Yeah. Well, a lot of things, really. But you can’t be blamed for sending flowers!”
“You were mad about it, though.” He shifted. “You said so at Devin’s. I thought we … hit it off.” She flushed. “You were willing to have sex with me, but not let me take you out to dinner.” His tone was faintly accusatory, but he looked hurt, and his stubbly chin was so close that it took a moment to process what he’d said.
Then she was outraged. “That’s not fair.”
“I mean, if you only like me in a pirate costume, I could buy another one.” He waggled an eyebrow at her.
She gritted her teeth. She didn’t need to visualize the way those striped pants had curved over his thighs, over his bulge. “Are you kidding me? How could you have asked me out? And then blame me for saying no? Of course I said no!”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “So you blame me for getting you fired, you refuse an apology, and you blame me for making an ad for you to try to help you. Which, by the way, was a pain in the ass for all the guys. I made them show up to help me twice this week, with no notice.”
“I don’t see how you—”
“You slept with me twice. You let me play with your breasts and lick your clitoris—”
“Oh god,” Alyssa murmured.
“But you’re horrified at the idea of being seen in public with me?”
She stared at him. He opened his mouth, but she stood so she could tower over him. She realized too late that this move put Rip Van Winkle right by his mouth, and the things he’d just said had definitely gotten her attention. Rip Van Winkle was wide awake and looking for trouble.
“You were mad at me for giving you the wrong contract, which, might I remind you, you never bothered to read.” She stuck a finger in his face. “Don’t say anything—it’s true. And okay, I screwed up, but it was sort of understandable, and you could have been nicer.” Her eyes flashed hot with tears, and she flushed with humiliation. She would not cry in front of him.
“Alyssa,” Nick said, and she looked away, a traitor tear spilling down her cheek. She wiped it angrily. “Did you think—”
“Oh, hell.” He threw his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, which was warm and smelled so familiar. His sweater was soft, probably cashmere, and was going to have mascara all over it. She pulled her head a little lower so her eye was lined up with a black stripe across his pecs. That would minimize the damage to his woolens. She sniffed and he tightened his grip on her and leaned in by her ear so his breath tickled and sent shivers racing down her spine.
“I wasn’t mad about the contract, Alyssa.” He said her name almost as a reproach. “How could you think that? That I’d be so distracted by your ass in my bedroom that I’d stick a pack of condoms in the fridge, but I’d turn around and refuse to see you because of an honest mistake? Without even talking about it?” She sniffed and tried to raise her head, but his arms held her tight. “How could I ever be angry with you?”
She talked into his hard chest. “You need to let go of me, or I’ll be using your sweater as a tissue.”
He dropped one arm but kept the other draped around her. “That’s not as big a threat as you think it is.” He smiled. Then he angled his head. “You’ve been angry with me for getting you fired, though.” He held his hand up. “I get it. The card I wrote to go with the flowers was stupid. We had mind-exploding sex …” She smirked. He gave her a look but went on. “But then you looked so unhappy afterward.”
She was confused. “I was definitely not unhappy. I mean, I may not have been able to form a coherent sentence afterward, but …”
He laughed softly and waggled an eyebrow at her, but then he said, “In the car. You just sat there.”
She looked up at him, searching his face. “You saw that?” He nodded. “I was looking at your apartment building and thinking about what I’d done to you.”
A look of understanding crossed his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “It’s why I sent the flowers. Why I got you fired.”
She ducked her head and fished in her purse for a pack of tissues, then tried to wipe her nose discreetly.
“Can I ask something else?” he said. She nodded hesitantly. “After the engine fire—I thought you might call. Or at least text.”
Her mouth twisted to the side. “I really didn’t know until several days later. I kind of feel like we can blame that one on my stepdad.” He nodded agreeably. “When I did find out, I was afraid I might … reopen a wound.”
“Like I wouldn’t know about it if you didn’t mention it?”
“Well, it sounds silly when you put it that way.”
“I guess I just wanted you to care,” he said. He flushed. “I have a home because of you. And I don’t just mean the apartment.” He struggled to find the words. “I’m glad I’m alive. I’m glad I’m with you.” He leaned forward and kissed her neck, his stubble brushing her skin. She shivered involuntarily and glanced sideways in time to see his smile. He moved his lips around to the front of her throat, then nibbled down and over to her collarbone. He placed his large hands on her waist and pulled her against him, then pushed under her blouse and skimmed her abdomen lightly, raising goose bumps.