“At least I was smart enough to buy ice cream when I went shopping yesterday,” she said, giving him the first genuine smile of the night. “So I can drown out my sorrows with mint chocolate chip and a funny movie.”
“Sounds perfect.” He kissed the back of her neck again, smiling against her skin when she shivered. “You ready for it now?”
“You scoop while I go wash away my self-pity and throw on some movie-watching pj’s.”
He slapped her on the ass as she walked past him and laughed at the saucy look she threw over her shoulder. Then he pulled open her freezer drawer and couldn’t help smiling. Next to her mint chocolate chip was a carton of maple walnut ice cream.
It was a small thing on the surface, maybe, but it was just another way she reallysawhim and made him feel important. And the first thing he’d thought when she told him she’d quit her job ran through his head again, resurfacing despite his resolve not to go there.
She was free to go to Baltimore with him.
It was there now, in his head again, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. That hadn’t been part of the deal. The dating was supposed to be fake—a relationship made up to keep people from dragging Kristen’s name through the dirt—but it had stopped being fake for him. He wasn’t sure exactly when, but what he felt for Kristen was real.
He was in love with her.
The arguments were all there. It was too soon—waytoo soon. She hated hockey, which was a huge part of his life. She was a complete stranger to his family, and her family wouldn’t shed a tear if he got hit by a bus.
All of that was true, and none of it put a dent in the truth. He’d been sent to Boston, chose a place to eat based on the grilled chicken, and met a strong, amazing, sexy woman who changed everything. And he couldn’t stay here, but he didn’t want to go home without her.
By the time he’d scooped them each a dish of ice cream and carried it into the living room, he had his emotions mostly under control again. He wasn’t going to be able to put them totally in a box—he was too shaken for that—but he didn’t want her to read his thoughts on his face. Not yet, anyway.
“Perfect timing,” he heard her say as he set the bowls on the coffee table.
He gave himself a few more seconds of trying to shove his feelings in a box for later before he looked up. Her movie-watching pajamas were a long-sleeved thermal top that had been washed so many times, it barely had any pink left to it, and flannel sleep pants with unicorns on them.
“Thank you for the maple walnut,” he said, and she paused for a kiss he was only too happy to give her before picking up her bowl and settling onto the couch.
He sat next to her, in the corner, and he smiled when she settled against him. She had the remote control and flipped through the channels until she found an old eighties comedy they both found ridiculous but also funny. After tossing the remote on the table, she dug into her ice cream.
But with the first bite of his maple walnut, he felt that clock ticking down again. The standard conditioning stint was almost over, and he felt good. The Harriers weren’t going to try to get him an extension, and he knew he should at least bring it up. It had to be talked about, if only so he’d know if she felt the same way he did.
She’d made room in her freezer for his favorite ice cream, even though she thought it was disgusting. That had to mean something. Or maybe he was reading too much into it, hoping for signs she might be falling for him as hard as he’d fallen for her.
But not tonight, he decided. She’d had a spectacularly shitty day and right now she needed ice cream and laughter. It wasn’t the time for a deep, emotional discussion. And if she didn’t feel the same he did, he’d probably have to leave to hide the hurt, and he didn’t want her to be alone.
So he’d eat ice cream, watch a dumb comedy, and then take her to bed. There was still a little time left on the clock.
* * *
There were veryfew woes that that couldn’t be cured by ice cream, a movie, and multiple orgasms, Kristen thought as she skimmed her fingernails over the sheen of sweat on Will’s naked back. She was almost breathing normally again, and her muscles were so relaxed, she wasn’t sure she’d ever move again.
Not that she wanted to right now. She loved the weight of his body on hers, and she smiled as he lifted his head from her shoulder to kiss it and then her mouth.
Then he looked at her, his mouth curved in a smile that was so sweet, she sighed and stroked his hair back from his forehead. At this moment, she didn’t care what happened beyond her apartment. Nothing else really mattered because all she needed was this man, who she had somehow fallen so fast and so hard in love with, looking at her the way he was right now.
And this man loved her, too.
It was there on his face—in his eyes—and she couldn’t look away.
Will was the man who would love her for the rest of her life. Her Prince Charming. Her knight in shining armor. He would hold her hair and rub her back when she was sick, and bring home champagne when she had something to celebrate. He wouldn’t hold her back or slow her down, but he would be at her side forever—his hand at the small of her back to reassure, comfort, or encourage.
Until the ice called, she reminded herself. He might love her, but he had a life and a team waiting for him in Baltimore, and when push came to shove, he would love hockey more. She knew the drill—she’d lived it her entire life—and she wouldn’t try to change his mind. He wouldn’t stay, and hearing him actually say the words out loud would hurt more than just knowing them in her heart.
A tear slid down from the corner of her eye, running toward her temple before she could blink it away. Will wiped it away with his thumb, his brow furrowing slightly.
Before he could speak—maybe saying something that would change their lives—she buried her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down so she could kiss him.
Sixteen hours later, the ice called, and it all fell apart.
