7. Aiden
Aiden
Josie catches me changing my shirt for the second time and immediately announces it to my parents.
“Daddy already had clothes on,” she says as I walk into the kitchen. “Then he took them off and put on different clothes. Twice.”
Dad looks up from the table. “Wardrobe trouble?”
“The first shirt had a stain.”
Josie shakes her head. “It did not.”
“The second one didn’t fit right.”
“It fit like a shirt.”
Dad’s mouth twitches. “Good thing she’s here to keep the story honest.”
I’m wearing dark jeans and a charcoal button-down with the sleeves rolled to my forearms. My only defense is that Paige had dismantled every plan I’d made for tonight before she’d even agreed to the date.
Mom seals Josie’s unicorn pajamas inside her overnight bag. “Do you have everything?”
“My toothbrush, Sprinkle, and my reading book.”
“Did you pack underwear?”
Josie gasps and runs toward the hallway.
Dad waits until she disappears before looking at me. “You arranged an overnight visit for a date that doesn’t exist yet.”
“I asked if Josie wanted to stay. She did.”
“And if Paige says no?”
“I come home.”
The paper bag waiting beside my keys holds vegetable lasagna, garlic bread, salad, and two chocolate cookies. I bought dinner because inviting Paige to a meal and expecting her to prepare it would prove I’ve learned nothing.
My copy of her romance novel rests beside the bag, an index card marking chapter twenty-two. I’ve read enough to confirm the fictional man talks too much and gets rewarded anyway. I’m bringing it as evidence for the argument I plan to start.
Dad nods toward it. “Should I ask?”
“No.”
“Is it dirty?”
“Yes.”
Mom gives him a look.
“What? The cover is obvious.”
“There’s a man wearing a shirt on the cover,” I say.
“That never stopped your mother.”
Mom slides Josie’s bag toward him. “Take this upstairs.”
Dad grins as he lifts it. “Listen to your mother, Aiden. She has experience with men who make excellent choices.”
“Go.”
He carries the bag out as Josie races back in, chin high with accomplishment.
“I packed three pairs of underwear.”
“For one night?”
“What if something happens?”
“Whatever you’re expecting from Grandma’s house, you’re prepared.”
She wraps her arms around my waist. “Are you going on a date with Miss Paige?”
“I’m hoping to.”
“Does she know?”
“She knows I’m coming to ask.”
Josie leans back. “You should say please.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And don’t call her lady.”
“I learned that lesson.”
She smiles, satisfied, and hurries upstairs after her grandfather.
Mom picks up my keys and hands them to me. “Listen to her.”
“That’s it?”
“Paige tells you exactly what she means. You only get into trouble when you decide you heard something else.”
I take the keys. “I can listen.”
“I know.” Her expression softens. “That’s why you have a chance.”
The drive into the foothills takes thirty minutes. Dinner sits on the passenger floorboard, and the paperback is on the seat beside Paige’s address.
Tonight, I’m offering dinner inside the evening she already chose. If she says no, I will hate the answer, respect it, and drive home with all of this.
Her porch light is on when I turn into the drive.
Paige opens the door before I knock. She’s wearing denim shorts and a soft green shirt, her hair twisted up—her mouth curved as if she’d heard every version of this conversation I rehearsed on the drive.
“You found me,” she says.
“You gave me an address.”
“I gave you permission to ask.”
“I remember.”
Her gaze moves toward my truck. “Did you bring something?”
“Dinner and the book your fictional boyfriend uses to waste three paragraphs.”
“You brought your own copy?”
“I did the assigned reading.”
She laughs softly, and the sound pulls me one step closer.
“The food stays in the truck unless you say yes,” I say.
“And if I say no?”
“I drive home, eat two dinners, and finish the book.”
“That sounds devastating.”
“I’ll recover eventually.”
Paige leans against the door frame, waiting.
I keep my hands at my sides and ask the question plainly.
“Paige, will you have dinner with me tonight? Right here, at your cabin, with your book and your Friday still included?”
Paige studies me so long I start to think bringing an entire meal was a poor strategic decision.
“What did you bring?”
“Vegetable lasagna, salad, garlic bread, and dessert.”
“You brought an entire meal, not even knowing if I’d let you in.”
“I planned to eat regardless.”
“Two dinners, apparently.”
“I’m a large man.”
She smiles. “Fine. You can bring in your very practical dinner.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, Aiden. I’ll have dinner with you.”
Her yes lands deep in my gut. I keep the satisfaction from turning into a grin because she is watching for one.
“I’ll get the food.”
“And the book.”
I glance toward my truck. “You want to see my notes?”
“I want to know which parts you misunderstood.”
“Confident.”
“I’ve read it twice.”
That gives me a vivid image of her stretched across the hammock with the book open and her thighs bare beneath those shorts.
I collect the bag and paperback, then follow her inside.
The cabin is smaller than I expected and more Paige than anything she shows the town.
Two pairs of hiking boots sit beneath a bench by the door.
A half-finished puzzle covers one end of the dining table.
Her mail and a ceramic bowl of keys claim the other.
Books fill the shelves around the stone fireplace, with more stacked beside a wide chair under the front window.
Nothing was arranged for company, and I like that she let me see it anyway.
“This is where Friday keeps defeating me,” I say.
She takes the salad from the bag. “Friday had an established advantage.”
“Home field?”
“Comfort. Silence. No expectations.”
“I brought garlic bread. The competition is improving.”
“That is a strong opening move.”
The kitchen leaves barely enough space for both of us. Paige passes me two mismatched plates, then points toward the silverware drawer. I set the table while she transfers the lasagna into the oven.
“You had food,” I say, spotting fresh pasta and cheese in the open fridge.
“I had ingredients.”
“You were going to cook?”
“I was considering it.”
“You put the pot away when you saw my truck?”
Her eyes narrow. “How do you know I put away a pot?”
“A clean pot is drying beside the sink, and there’s no water in it.”
“You’re annoyingly observant.”
“It’s one of my better qualities.”
“The ranking remains under review.”
The oven timer sounds, and we eat at the crowded table after Paige shifts exactly six puzzle pieces to make room for my plate.
“You could put that away,” I say.
“I know where everything goes right now.”
“The pieces are loose.”
“So is my faith you can leave them alone.”
She tucks one bare foot beneath her thigh and adds red pepper to the lasagna without tasting it first. Away from the library and everyone wanting her attention, she sits crooked in her chair and tears the center from her garlic bread before eating the crust.
“Where’s Josie tonight?” she asks.
“With my parents. She chose an overnight visit and packed three pairs of underwear.”
“For one night?”
“She believes in emergency preparation.”
Paige smiles at her plate. “I respect that.”
Dinner disappears between an argument over whether the puzzle shows a lake or an ocean and her claim that the cookies make up for the fictional hero I insulted. By the time we carry the plates to the sink, the fading light has turned the front windows dark.
She picks up the paperback from the counter and opens it to the index card. “Chapter twenty-two. Interesting choice.”
“That’s where your man spends three pages explaining what he intends to do.”
“Anticipation is important.”
“He repeats himself.”
“He’s being thorough.”
“He should pay more attention to her. She tells him what she wants in the first paragraph.”
Paige looks up. The teasing in her expression softens into open interest. “You noticed that?”
“She says faster. He keeps talking.”
“He eventually listens.”
“Eventually isn’t impressive.”
The cabin has gone quiet enough that I hear the hitch in her breath.
She closes the book over one finger. “You seem invested.”
“I don’t like wasting words.”
“You dislike fictional competition.”
“I don’t consider him competition.”
“Because he isn’t real?”
“Because his follow-through needs work.”
Her eyes hold mine while she sets the book on the counter. “So that’s why you came all this way? To pick a fight with a book?”
The few feet between us feel smaller than they did when she handed me the plates. I move close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo—then stop, leaving enough space for her to step away if she wants to.
“I came to kiss you,” I say, “if you still want me to.”
Paige’s gaze drops to my mouth. “That sounds suspiciously like asking.”
“It is.”
“You’ve been very committed to the concept tonight.”
“I’m learning.”
“And if I say I still want you to?”
“I kiss you.”
Her lips curve. “Then stop talking.”
I settle one hand against her waist, and Paige closes the remaining distance herself.
The first touch of her mouth wipes every smart answer from my head.
I intended to take my time. One kiss, slow enough to learn what she likes.
Then she grips the front of my shirt and kisses me back.
Her mouth opens under mine, soft and warm, and the restraint I brought into this cabin takes its first direct hit. I slide my hand around her back and pull her against me. She makes a quiet sound that hits deep in my chest, then rises onto her toes straining for another inch of contact.
I angle her head and deepen the kiss.
Paige’s fingers tighten in my shirt. She told me adults can kiss without making it mean anything, yet she shivers when my tongue strokes hers. I want to learn every reaction she cannot explain away.
I ease back enough to look at her.
Her lips are flushed. Her breathing is uneven, and her eyes have gone dark.
Her voice is unsteady. “That was one kiss.”
“It was.”
“I thought you came here to compete.”
“I’m pacing myself.”
“Against a paperback?”
“Against your expectations.”
Paige releases my shirt only to slide both hands up my chest. “I expected you to be bossier.”
“You want bossy?”
“I’m conducting research.”
I catch her chin between my fingers. “Careful, Paige.”
Her breath hitches, but her chin lifts. “Is that the best warning you have?”
“No.” I brush my thumb across her lower lip. “It’s the polite one.”
She catches the tip of my thumb between her teeth.
My hand tightens at her waist.
I kiss her again, harder this time. She answers with a hunger of her own, her hands sliding into my hair as I back her out of the kitchen. The edge of the sofa catches behind her knees, and she drops onto the cushions with a startled laugh.
I follow her down, bracing one hand beside her shoulder.
“You planned that,” she accuses.
“I didn’t choose where you put the furniture.”
“You mapped this whole place in thirty seconds.”
“Fair.”
She curls her fingers around my collar and pulls me back to her mouth.
Paige tastes faintly of chocolate and red wine. I kiss along her jaw and down her neck. Her head falls back against the sofa, and her breath breaks when I drag my mouth over the pulse beneath her ear.
“There,” she whispers.
I do it again.
Her knee slides between mine. My hand comes to rest on her bare thigh, and the muscle jumps beneath my palm.
“All theory?” I ask against her skin.
“Shut up.”
“That sounded less confident.”
She turns her face and bites my lower lip. “Still talking.”
I take her mouth again. My hand slides higher up her thigh as she grips my shoulders, shifting beneath my weight.
“Sit down,” she says.
I lean back. “Bossy.”
“Research.”
I sit, and Paige climbs onto my lap.
Fuck.
Her knees settle on either side of my hips. My hands settle on her hips as she looks down at me, pleased with herself despite the flush spreading over her throat.
“This seems efficient,” she says.
“Does it?”
“You’re very tall.”
“I noticed.”
She silences anything else I might say with another kiss.
The angle puts her soft, hot body directly against my cock. She feels exactly how hard I am, and the small catch in her breath tells me she wasn’t prepared for it.
Then she rolls her hips.
My fingers dig into her waist. “Paige.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Her eyes stay on mine as she does it again. “Maybe I want you to show me.”
I slide one hand into her hair, stilling her movements. “You like provoking me.”
“So far.”
I kiss her until neither of us is laughing. Her hands move over my chest and shoulders while mine learn the curve of her waist, the bare length of her thighs, the soft skin beneath the hem of her shirt. My palm finds her ribs, and she arches into me with a gasp.
Her hips press down again, and I feel the heat of her through two thin layers of clothing. One more inch beneath the edge of her shorts and this becomes exactly what she claimed it could be.
Casual is already a lie for me.
Touching her is easy. It’s what she wants after the kiss that I need to get right.
I pull my hand away and break the kiss.
Paige follows, trying to kiss me again.
I turn my head. “Easy.”
Her lips brush my jaw. “I’m fine.”
“I know.”
“Then what was the point of stopping?”
Because I’m already thinking about tomorrow. Because one Friday inside her cabin has me wanting the next one.
I lift her from my lap and set her gently on the sofa before standing.
I move to step away, but Paige’s hand closes around my belt.
“Where do you think you’re going?”