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Everly
Cross tugs on my hand, then moves me to the other side of him, so he’s the one walking next to the street as we stroll down Main Street later that night. I’ve seen my dad do the same thing a hundred times, but I’ve never had a guy do that with me, and I have to roll my lips in to hide my smile. “How did you know that the Fall Festival was one of my favorite things in Kroydon Hills?”
“Lucky guess.” He nods toward one of the lines for food, and I shake my head. “So tell me about your friends.”
“What do you want to know?” I ask right before I see a line in front of a stand for my favorite restaurant. “Ohh, Nonna’s. Let’s go there.”
Cross slides his hand from mine and presses it to the small of my back, and I can’t decide which I like better. They both give me warm chills.
“You guys seem . . . close.”
I look up at him and remember he asked about my friends. I’m learning Cross is a man of few words. I’m not sure I’ve ever come across that before. I think everyone I know loves to hear themselves talk.
“We are close. You know how you always hear people talk about friends who are more like family? Well, that’s us. We were all raised together. Our parents are friends. Brynlee, Lindy, and I all lived together during college. Kenzie, who you didn’t meet tonight, and my sister, Gracie, lived with us too. We all stayed together after college and moved into the condo. Lindy moved out when she married Easton last year. Now they’re a floor below us. Callen and Maddox live next to them.” We move up a bit as the line slowly ambles along. “Next question?” I tease because really, it’s me who should be asking him questions. But something about that scares me a little for reasons I’m not 100 percent ready to examine yet.
He shakes his head like he’s trying to take it all in. “What’s the deal with you and seagulls?”
“What?” I spin around to face him.
Damn, he’s handsome, standing in front of me in a long-sleeved green-and-white baseball tee stretched tight over his broad chest and a beat-up old baseball cap pulled down low over his face. He probably thinks he’s hiding from prying eyes, but I’ve seen a few people point as we walk through the crowdedstreet. Kroydon Hills is used to its pro athletes, but there’s always one or two people who still get excited. I’d say the interest is another tick against him, but so far, his career seems to be the only tick.
“Seagulls. Your friendly neighborhood bartender, who I rode the elevator with earlier, told me to ask you about seagulls.” Cross smiles, and my goodness, I think my knees go weak. He’s what Grace and I would have calleddreamywhen we were younger. He makes it hard to think straight, and that never happens to me. Boys don’t have this effect on me, but Cross Wilder is no boy.
“That fucker,” I hiss, silently coming up with plans to retaliate against Maddox. Veering away from seagulls, I point across the street and smile. “See that shop with the purple awning? The one a few down from my mom’s dance studio?”
“Nice evasion, Cinderella.” He grins and tugs on my hair. “But I’ll play along.” He runs his fingers along my bare shoulder and up my neck, then leans in close enough for me to feel his warm breath skim my skin. “For now...”
Oh holy hell.
“What were you saying, Everly?”
What was I saying? That’s a good question.
“That shop,” I whisper and point again, this time with a shaky finger. “That’s my Aunt Carys’s shop. She and her partner, Chloe, design lingerie. I work for them.”
“You design lingerie?” Cross pulls back, and his eyes light up with interest as my face flames.
“They’ve let me design a few things.”
“That’s impressive.” When he says it, I kinda believe him instead of feeling like my dreams are so far out of reach that I’ll need a Boeing 747 just to reach them.
“The shop is hosting a fashion show next month. You should come. A few of my friends and I are walking in it.”
“Walking? Like modeling the lingerie?”
“Yup,” I pop the “p” at the end of the word, then take another step closer to the front of the line. Cross links a finger through a belt loop in my jeans and pulls me back to him.
“As long as I don’t have a game that night, I’ll be there.” The possessiveness in his voice sends a thrill through me before the mention of hockey douses me in ice.
“A game... right.A hockey game.Your season starts soon.” Because he’s the one thing I swore I’d steer clear of.
“Our first game is mid-October... Maybe you could come. If your friend is Madeline Kingston, I doubt it’s the first hockey game you’ve been to.”
“Let’s not go getting ahead of ourselves here, big man,” I tease. “I’ve been to a game or two, but football has my heart, and I doubt I’ll ever give that away to hockey.”
“Fair enough.” He flashes a cocky smile. Although Cross would probably call it arrogant. “So you work for your aunt. Teach for your mom. Cheer for the Kings... What do you do for yourself?”
“Teaching for my mom was just a favor. Normally, that’s Gracie’s job. But she’s been busy, so I filled in. And I love working with lingerie. But...” I blink up at him and lower my voice. “I really want to design wedding gowns. I’ve been working on my first line for about a year.” I’m not sure why I told him that. It’s not something I typically share. “I’ve been saving up for my own shop. But I’m not quite there yet, unless I hit up my trust fund, and I’m trying to do it without touching that.”
