Page 19 of The Pucker and the Princess
Those aches and pains are more tenacious, less easily resolved with some stretches and warmups. The pain’s deeper and longer lasting. The fatigue less easily overcome.
I’m nowhere near ready to hang up my skates, but I’m starting to get it now.
It’s another few days before I bump into Marissa in the hall, on my way to morning skate. She’s dressed to kill in a fitted skirt suit, a black leather tote settled on her shoulder, her hair up and out of her face in some kind of classy hairstyle that I have no idea what it’s called. And, as expected, her makeup is flawless.
Unlike our previous hallway interactions, she smiles when she sees me. “Hey there, stranger.”
I lay a hand over my chest. “I’mthe stranger? I thought you were going to text me to help you hang pictures.”
Her gaze darts away, and she shifts her feet while tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, uh … right. That.”
“Oh, Marissa. You didn’t.”
She brings her wide eyes back to mine. “Didn’t what?”
“You did, didn’t you? You hung pictures without me. How am I supposed to pay you back now?”
She flips her hand back and forth in a dismissive wave. “Oh, please. It’s not like you were actually going to do it. You’re a busy guy, aren’t you? I’m sure you have better things to do than come hang pictures in my new place.”
Letting out a groan, I lean against the wall like I’m wounded. “Ouch. I can’t believe you. We had a deal!”
The slightly guilty look on her face dissolves into a tiny smile at my antics.Victory. “I’m not sure why you’re all put out. You’re getting the better end of the deal, after all.”
Wagging a finger at her, I straighten up. “Nu-uh. That’s not how it works. I owe you, and I intend to pay up. You won’t let me buy you dinner. You won’t let me hang pictures for you.” I tap my finger on my chin, thinking.
Glancing down at the delicate silver watch on her wrist, she straightens. “Well, I’ll leave you to figuring that out. But I have a client appointment in Lynnwood, so I have to get going.”
“Can I walk you to your car at least?”
She looks me up and down, taking in my casual gear. “You don’t have somewhere you need to be?”
I shrug. “I’ll be fine.”
Her eyes narrow, but she shrugs as though she doesn’t care either way, which I take as agreement and fall in step beside her.
“You seem like the kind of woman who just gets what she wants when she wants it.”
She glances up at me, her brows pulled together. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just that you don’t seem like the type to wait around hoping someone else will buy things for you. Am I wrong?”
“No,” she answers after a beat, her tone grudging.
“Great. So if I ask you if there’s anything you need for your new place, you’ll tell me you’ve got it, or not to worry, or that you can get your own things. Right?”
She presses her lips together, but I can tell she’s fighting a smile.
“Right,” I continue. “So that means I need to come up with something you wouldn’t think to do or get for yourself but that you’ll enjoy.”
She’s silent as we walk along the row of cars, heading for hers.
“Ooookay,” I draw out. “No help from the peanut gallery.” That gets a chuckle at least. And just in time, too, because she’s slowing in front of her car, reaching for the handle of the back door. “In that case, you’ll just have to hope I’ve got you figured out enough to get you something good.”
“Wait, what?” She straightens from setting her tote in the back seat. “What are you gonna do?”
I point a finger at her, giving her a crooked smile. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”
CHAPTER TEN
