Page 41 of A Groom of One's Own

“I could,” Eli says, and now I’m really not sure if I’m dreaming. Because this is the exact kind of thing I wish someone would tell me. “I would.”

A single, solid thought breaks the surface as I’m slipping down, down, down.

“I’ll do it,” I say, a smile on my lips. Because I’m proud of myself for being brave. For wanting something and then saying so. Out loud.

Unless I’m dreaming?

“I’ll marry you, hockey player.”

I think Eli responds, but his words slip into merely a steady rumbling ribbon of bass, pairing with the hum of the tires on the road and the cocooning warmth of the seat as my mind drifts and then winks out.

A whispered voice, low and close. Hands scooping me up. A warm, safe chest. One I want to nuzzle into, so I do. I could stay right here forever. A masculine scent—one that calls to mind cozy fires and cinnamon rolls.

A lovely, lovely dream. I sigh, allowing myself to fall deeper into the warm comfort, and the sway of calming motion, a soothing drug.

“Which one is your apartment, Leelee?”

Apartment? My dreams don’t usually include my dingy apartment. Something tugs at me, pulling me up from sleep. A niggling thought that grows louder and more insistent until it yanks me completely out of sleep and into the present moment.

Where I’m currently being held against a firm, solid chest encased in a scratchy muumuu.

Eli. Eli is carrying me in his arms across the parking lot of my apartment complex.

I am utterly embarrassed at the way my hands are linked around Eli’s neck, as though even in my sleep, I wanted to get closer to him. My cheek is pressed against a swath of skin just above the collar of the muumuu, which must have slipped whilehe carried me. He smells better than any birthday cake could. I am shamelessly plastered against the man.

I can’t bring myself to look at him. I also can’t bring myself to move, though I should. I should take my hands away from his neck where my fingertips brush against the longer strands of his hair. I should lift my cheek from his chest, insist he put me down on my feet. I’m an adult. I can walk.

But I don’t want to.

I’d like to cling to this moment as long as possible. To what felt so much like a dream, because it is like a dream: the famous hockey player who just spent the evening making my birthday so special. Makingmefeel special.

“Did you call me Leelee?” I ask, for some reason zeroing in on the least important part of this whole situation.

“Do you like it?” he asks. “I was trying to think of a nickname for you.”

He’s trying to think of a nickname for me. This tiny fact has no business making me so happy.

“Bay sounds like either a body of water or the sound a beagle makes.”

I snort. “Yeah, let’s avoid that. So, Leelee.” I test the name out. It’s cute. Sweet.

“I think it suits you.”

Well, in that case…

“I mean, if you don’t mind,” he adds.

“I like it.”

“Good. Now, I really need to know where I’m going. I think I’ve walked by the same building three times. But I’m not sure because they all look the same.”

They do. I guess that’s true of all apartment complexes, but it’s especially true here. In a town so filled with charm like Harvest Hollow, I think they had to actually pump in ugly tomake this complex, with its stark brick buildings and windows that seem way too small.

I lift my head from Eli’s warm chest to see where we are. “That one.” I point, then decide to lay my head back on his chest. Why not?

I’m sure that’s the post-midnight Bailey talking. The one with fewer inhibitions. The one who wants to take both hands and wring every bit I can out of this moment. The one who?—

Wait, wait, wait.I freeze as I remember, every muscle, even the ones I didn’t know I had, constricting until I’m a block of stone.The one who said she’d marry Eli.

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