Page 71 of Skating and Fake Dating
The intensity between us grows with each passing second. I step closer, and my fingertips graze her shoulder. A shiver runs through her body and the corners of her lips tip upward. Our eyes lock, a silent conversation of want and need passing between us.
My palms cup her face, thumbs tracing the softness of her cheeks.
“Kiss me,” she breathes, the command heard and felt in equal measure.
When our lips finally meet, it’s like touching a match to paper. The spark explodes. My pulse goes up in flames.
Her breath catches and she lets out a soft noise as we kiss.
My hands skim down to her waist, drawing her closer and the intensity grows with the racing of my pulse and the way her palms dig into my hair.
We pull apart briefly and our gazes don’t stray. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath. I’m stunned by the icy-hot sensation coursing through my veins.
I kiss her again, deeper this time, my fingers threading through her hair. Her fingers skim along my back before gripping my neck firmly.
Our connection continues, grows, and intensifies.
When we finally separate, her hair is mussed, her eyes are bleary, and her lips bee-stung from our kisses.
I lick my lower lip. “That was—” All I can do is let out a breath because there are no words.
Her exhale trembles as she nods, agreeing with me.
My phone buzzes loudly in my pocket at the worst possible time.
Bailey’s eyes flicker like she remembers something and she steps back, fumbling with her keys. “You should get that. It might be important.”
It’s probably a text from my agent. That can wait. I don’t want to break this moment.
“It’s nothing,” I say, reaching for her again, but she’s already edging toward the door.
“Goodnight, Carson. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says and slips inside.
I stand there for a beat, staring at her closed door, wondering how something that started as an arrangement led to a kiss that set my world ablaze … and why she just retreated.
CHAPTER 30
BAILEY
The perfect autumn weekend day unveils itself with a crisp morning mist that gradually burns away, revealing a pale blue sky contrasting with the vibrant yellows and oranges of big-leaf maples and towering Douglas firs dotted with crystals of morning dew. The earthy scent of fallen leaves mingles with the cozy aroma of coffee and the fall harvest bounty—apples, pears, and pumpkins.
I pull on one of my favorite bulky sweaters, a knit hat, and lace up my boots, grateful that work aligned with being home this month, even though I wouldn’t have missed the Maple Fest for anything.
As I drive Pappa’s old pickup truck through town, I appreciate how every year, Maple Falls goes through a transformation that includes decorating the downtown area with pumpkin displays and festive wreaths, along with a scarecrow-making competition consisting of local teams. They’re then displayed on the light posts along Main Street.
This expands and explodes at the fair itself with games, craft booths, and food stalls. Plus, there are hayrides, pumpkin carving, and of course, the square-dancing stage. Let’s just sayCarson got up there last night, but I wasn’t surprised by his skills. However, the little thrills that shot through me every time he spun me around haven’t quit—putting all my trepidation about us on pause.
For the last couple of days, I’ve been running on caramel corn, scones slathered in whipped honey and raspberry jam, and apple cider doughnuts.
Suffice it to say, Maple Falls has some serious fun with this season and I’m thoroughly enjoying it even as the morning passes in a flurry.
Sweet Memories, my maple butter booth, has been swamped, especially after the local news crew did a short feature on “hometown products.” Not to be confused with the other article about a certain hockey player puckering up with a local girl. Yeah, that would be yours truly. I’m still not sure what to make of it, but my sister was sure to email me the piece, under the auspices of cautioning me when really she just likes to make me squirm.
Me being me, I read and reread the article. It’s hard not to ignore how it highlighted the differences between Carson and me. Do we belong together or is this real-fake a mistake?
The Ice Breakers played their first game of the season and led three-zero against the Great Lakes Vikings. Asher got the first goal, Cade got the final one, and Carson slotted the one in the middle. Clément also already has a fan club. But Carson only had eyes for me.
Having been on the corporate side of the game for a while, I now understand the draw. Watching that stick in his hands was like a conductor leading a symphony. Poetic, I know, but it truly was a thing of beauty and skill.
