Page 27 of I Can't Help It

Ice. We need ice.

While Ava admires one of the lobby’s landscape paintings, I make my way to the front desk.

“Hey there,” a dark-haired guy behind the counter greets me with a friendly smile. “Welcome to Whispering Creek Lodge. What can I help you with today?”

“Hi—” I pause to read his name tag. “Shy? Did I pronounce that right?”

Can you say it any other way though?

“Yeah, you pronounced it correctly,” he says, not missing a beat. “So, are you checking in?”

Is “Shy” short for something? I’m not going to ask, but I am curious.

“Uh, yeah,” I reply, now wondering if he was named after the little masked guys from Mario. “Well, would I be able to get some ice first? My coworker hit her head, and I don’t want it to swell more than it already has.”

I wrinkle my nose after using the term “coworker” out loud. It sounds…impersonal.

Good. She IS your coworker. There’s nothing personal about your relationship with Ava.

Which is why I didn’t kiss her forehead after our unfortunate accident.

Was I tempted though? Oh, heck yes. But I stayed strong!

That’s right, just call me Mr. Keeps-His-Lips-To-Himself, because guilty as charged.

“Uh, did you still want this?”

Shy slides an ice pack over to me and I stare at the thing for a second or two. When did he step aside to grab it? How did I miss that?

Instead of “Shy,” maybe his name should be “Sly.”

Ha—okay, I’m done.

“Thank you, yes,” I say, taking it from the counter. “And once I have her all situated, I’ll come back to officially check in.”

“Sounds like a plan. What name is the reservation under, so I can have the information pulled up?”

I give him my name, along with the company’s name, and then I walk back over to Ava. She’s looking out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I find myself imagining what it would be like if this wasn’t just a work trip. If we came here as a couple…

I’d take a picture of her with my phone, because all that sunlight coming through the glass is giving her an irresistible glow. Capturing the moment wouldn’t be optional. After that, I’d probably slip my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder—no, wait. I’d bury my face in her neck instead. That way I could inhale her sweet, fruity scent until I’m dizzy from it. Then I’d whisper something romantic against her skin, letting my mouth linger there for a second or two. And maybe—

“I don’t think I need an ice pack, Luke,” Ava interrupts my fantasy as she comes toward me. “It doesn’t hurt that much now.”

“I’d feel better if you iced it.” I resist the urge to kiss her forehead, yet again. “Just for a little bit, to help with the swelling and redness.”

“Okay, I’ll use it, but only under one condition.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Which is?”

“Tell me the truth: does it look really bad?” she asks with a wince. “Like, should I break out the concealer, so I don’t scare people?”

I want to tell her that she looks beautiful, even with the bump on her forehead.

However, I can’t tell her that.

So, I settle for the next best thing.

“You don’t need any concealer. There’s nothing scary about the way you look.”

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