Page 83 of Trade Deadline

Um. What the fuck is kneading?

I ball my hands into fists and start slamming my knuckles into the dough.

“No, no, no!!” Mom wails, flapping her hands in the air like a little bird.

“Let me help, Nicola.” Jacob appears at my side, shooing me out of the way with his perfectly manicured hands, and starts doing something with the dough, which I assume is kneading.

“Thank you, Jacob, honey. I’ve always tried to get my boys to be more responsible in the kitchen, because it’s not a good look to be twenty-seven and not know how to boil an egg.” She throws a glare over her shoulder at me.

Jacob laughs, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him relax. Those soft, delicate features often turn hard whenever me and the boys are around. Alex told me his brother had a tough time in school with some guys on the hockey and football teams but didn’t elaborate. I hope he can see that we’re not like the douche canoes he knew years ago.

After being banished from my own kitchen, I take a seat next to my dad at the breakfast bar and watch as Alex adds the finishing touches to the cake.

My heart fills at the sight. Could this be a new tradition? It should scare me that I’ve known Alex for less than a month and I’m already envisioning him as a permanent fixture in my future.

Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, and weddings.

He fits in, like a piece of a puzzle that I didn’t know was missing.

“You okay there, kid?” Dad says quietly, bumping his shoulder with mine.

I turn to the man everyone says I look like. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods.

“How did you know Mom was the one?”

My dad glances over at my mom and smiles. The content, happy-as-fuck smile of someone who is deep in love. “She made me feel like I could be myself without fear of judgment. She made me laugh, always listened to me, and supported me without fail, and when we were apart, it was like I didn’t feel whole. Like I was missing a part of myself. It was also like she was in tune with me; she could pick up how I was feeling without me saying a word, and there was a level of trust that I hadn’t felt with anyone else before.”

I look over to Alex, taking in his bright smile and the way his blue eyes sparkle when he laughs. I absorb my dad’s words, thinking back to my previous relationships. I didn’t feel an ounce of any of those things. I didn’t feel like they listened, supported me, or that I could be my true self. Alex saw right through the playboy bravado I was showing the world from the very first moment. He always listens so intently to everything I have to say, even when I’m complaining about some nonsense on TV or a shit play that happened during a game. He makes me laugh, and there’s never once been that feeling of distrust.

My stomach begins to knot at the thoughts running rampant in my mind.

Am I falling for him?

The thought doesn’t make me feel as anxious as it once would have. If anything, it makes my chest warm.

Hours later, our bellies are full of my mom’s signature Christmas Eve meal of honey glazed-salmon, potatoes, and vegetables, and we laze on the couch and watch movies. Elliot and my parents head back to his apartment with the promise they’ll be back bright and early, and Jacob heads off to one of the spare rooms. I switch off the Christmas tree lights and the TV before taking Alex’s hand and leading him down the hallway to my room. The moon shines bright in the sky, casting a perfect glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Alex walks over to stand in front of them, staring out at the lake. The water is calm and peaceful, a far cry from the rabid beat of my heart.

“It’s so beautiful up here,” he whispers.

I walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and rest my chin on his shoulder.

“Yeah, it was my favorite view... Until you.”

He turns his head, his cheek brushing against mine, our lips only a breath away.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I kiss him, loving how his body melts back into me. I bask in the feel of his pillowy lips, how his tongue meets mine stroke for stroke. The warm heat of his mouth.

He turns in my arms, and a low groan rumbles from the depths of my throat as his erection rubs against mine.

We stand there in the moonlight, a collision of desperate tongues and roaming hands, separating only briefly to remove our shirts before our mouths crash together again.

I reach down to cup his ass, giving the perfect globes a firm squeeze, making him moan.

“I need you naked,” he demands.

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