Kiss and Don’t Tell
: Chapter 15

I’m fucking reeling.

After a long-ass workout that I started at four in the morning—I couldn’t seem to calm my racing mind because of that fucking delicious kiss last night—I grab a towel from the shelf in the gym and head upstairs to the main level, where Posey and Hornsby are talking to Stephan in the kitchen as he makes egg sandwiches.

“Smells good, man,” I call out.

“Thanks. I have a yogurt parfait in the fridge for your girl.”

I don’t even bother correcting him—because that’s what Winnie feels like at this point, my girl—and I give him a nod as I head down our hallway. I consider going straight to Winnie’s room, but think better of it, and instead, I jog to my room and take the quickest shower of my life. I dry off, throw on some deodorant, cologne, a pair of athletic shorts, and an Agitators shirt. I already brushed my teeth, because I hate working out with morning breath.

I head for Winnie’s room and knock on her door.

“Come in,” she says in a husky voice.

When I pop the door open, I spot Winnie still in bed, the comforter pulled up over her shoulder. The braids in her hair have come partly undone.

She looks adorable.

“Good morning, Pacey,” she says in a sleepy voice.

I shut the door behind me and walk toward the bed. “Good morning.”

Her eyes scan me. “I can smell you from here.”

I chuckle. “I hope that’s a good smell.”

“A very good smell.” She yawns and then says, “Let me guess—you’ve already worked out this morning, taken a shower, and had breakfast.”

“Waited on breakfast, but the rest is correct.”

She looks so damn comfortable; I need to lose myself in that comfort. I round her bed, draw back the covers, and slip into bed with her. I scoot in behind her and spoon her against my chest, letting my arm fall over her stomach as I hold her close. From what I can feel, she’s wearing shorts and a tank top, and from the way her breasts skim the top of my forearm, I’m guessing no bra.

“Mmm, you smell really good.”

I kiss her bare shoulder. “If you want, I can lie flat on my back and you can sniff me up and down.”

She chuckles and snuggles in closer. “Let me guess—you’re naked in this scenario.”

“You can have me any way you want me.”

“Just like this,” she murmurs. “I want you just like this.”

I allow my thumb to barely skim the underside of her breast as I ask, “Dream about me last night?”

“Yes,” she breathes out heavily. “Mmm, that feels good.”

“Yeah?” I continue to move my thumb just below her nipple.

She wiggles against me. “You’re turning me on, Pacey.”

My thumb pauses as my dick twitches in my shorts.

She rolls to her back and smiles up at me. My hand rests flat on her stomach, but I’m tempted to slip it under her shirt, to feel her bare breasts, to lift her shirt up and over her head, and to suck her nipples into my mouth until she comes.

“Not going to apologize for that. You’ve done your fair share of making me hard.”

She chuckles and sighs. Her head rolls to the side so it’s pressed against my arm that’s propping me up. “I’m not ready to be a human just yet. I think you exhausted me yesterday, and then I kept thinking about . . . that kiss.”

“Tell me about it. I woke up at four this morning and worked out because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“It was good, wasn’t it? Felt special.”

I smile down at her. “Really fucking special.”

Giggling, she presses her hands over her face and scissors her legs under the covers while quietly screaming. God, she’s cute.

I laugh at her response and say, “I’ll take that as good excitement.”

“I am so embarrassing.” She stills in bed and peeks through her hands. “You realize that, right? I’m just a goof, a dork. I get giddy over the idea of a first kiss.”

My smile feels as if it stretches a mile long. “It’s endearing. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t get a little ‘giddy’ over that first kiss, as well.”

She curls to her side, stuffing her hands under her pillow as she faces me. “Yeah? I’ve only had three first kisses in my entire life, and that one was easily the most memorable.”

“Same.” I move my hand over her face and gently stroke her cheek.

Her eyes soften and she says, “I was thinking about going on a hike this morning, maybe a picnic out in the woods. Care to join me?”

“Not really.”

Her face falls. “Oh, yeah, of course. You’re probably going to hang out with the boys.”

I chuckle and lift off from the bed. I go to her window to pull open the curtains and reveal a steady downpour of rain. “Not really into hiking in the rain, and soggy picnic sandwiches doesn’t sound appealing either.”

She sits up in bed, and I allow my eyes to scan her beautiful body as she takes in the view outside. “Oh.” She laughs. “Yeah, that doesn’t seem ideal hiking weather.”

I move back over to her and take a seat on the bed. “I would like to spend the day with you, just not outside.”

“You would?” She gestures to her body. “You want to spend the day with this old bag of bones?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Okay.” She sits up on her knees. “How about this—we play rock paper scissors to decide who gets to pick the activities. Every new activity means a new game, and whoever wins gets to pick.”

I move my hand over my jaw. “I’m really good at rock paper scissors.”

“How can you be good at a game of chance?”

I tap the side of my head. “Mind reader.”

“Okay, we’ll see about that. Do you have any rules for the day?”

“We’re both naked.”

She laughs a good, hearty laugh. “Not happening, but I will tell you a rule—nothing X-rated. Clothes shall stay on, hands will not fall under any garments, and kissing is allowed, but that’s it.”

“Way to take the fun out of everything.”

She waggles her finger at me. “I want to have fun with you. Genuine fun, get to know you more. Just because I kissed you last night doesn’t mean it’s an open invitation to other things.”

“That’s fair.” I’m actually surprised she let me hop into bed with her to cuddle, so I’m happy with whatever she’ll allow today.

“Really?” she asks, surprised.

“Yeah, really. I like you, Winnie. Whatever you want, you get.”

“Ooh, don’t say things like that because I will take advantage.”

“You would never,” I say. “You barely take advantage of being here in this house.”

“True.” She stretches her arms over her head, and once again, my eyes land on her body, on the sliver of skin that shows from the lift of her shirt, on the way her tank top barely cups her breasts. “You’re staring.”

“I know,” I answer just as I lift my eyes to hers. “You didn’t say anything about not staring. That should be my right. Especially if I let you stare.”

“That’s fair.” She hops out of bed and pads across the floor to the bathroom. “I’m going to get ready for the day. Think you can wait for me out in the living room?”

“I’d rather watch you get ready. I’m truly interested in the process.”

She chuckles and points to her bedroom door. “Out, Pacey.”

Capitulating, I stand from her bed and walk to the door just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. “Hurry up, there’s a yogurt parfait in the fridge waiting for you, and then after that, the game is on.”

“Can’t wait.”

I shut her door behind me and pull my phone out. My eyes nearly bug out of their sockets when I read who the text is from.

Josh.

He has some fucking nerve.

Josh: Hey Pacey, it’s Josh. I know Dad spoke with you. He told me you’re in Banff. Wondering if you can carve some time out to talk to me on the phone. I have some things to tell you.

I blink a few times, reading the text over.

Some things to tell me?

What could he possibly want to share with me, especially since he wanted nothing to do with me? All of a sudden, he wants to talk to me?

Fuck that.

I exit out of the text thread and stuff my phone back in my pocket. I have better things to worry about other than patching things up with a guy who dissed me thirteen years ago.

WATCHING Winnie eat her yogurt parfait was torture. I swear she was licking the spoon seductively on purpose. She claimed it was so good that she wanted every last morsel, but I don’t believe her for a second. She was taunting me with her tongue. And it worked.

All I could think about was my dick in place of the spoon and her tongue running up and down it.

Yup. Torture.

“That was amazing. Thank you, Stephan,” Winnie says as she puts her parfait dish in the sink. She returns to her barstool next to mine. She places her hands on my knees and gives them a little shake. “Are you ready?”

I clear my throat and shift on my stool, not wanting her to see just how affected I was. “Ready.” I hold my hand out and so does she. “Best out of one?”

She nods. “Yup.”

“All right.”

Together, we pump our hands and say rock paper scissors. I throw down a rock and she shows up with scissors. Our eyes connect and I feel a smile pass over my face.

“Don’t get cocky. It was one win.”

“Just getting started. You looked like a scissors girl for your first throwdown.”

“Stop it.” She playfully pushes at my chest. “You did not know I was going to do scissors.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” I rub my hands together and ask, “How good are you at golf?”

“Uh, never played it. But I’ve played mini golf. Does that count?”

“Not really. This will be more fun.” I hop off the stool and take her hand in mine. “Let’s go.”

The boys are scattered throughout the house. Last I heard, Taters was in his room. Hornsby and Posey are playing chess upstairs and Holmes is reading in the library. No surprise there. Which means, the golf simulator is open.

I take her to the basement and she stops when we reach the bottom of the stairs.

“We’re not working out, are we? I know I said we could do anything, but please, my legs are still recovering.”

I chuckle. “Nah, I already got my workout in this morning, remember?”

“Oh, right. You were super productive this morning, unlike me, who slept in.”

“Trust me, if I could sleep in, I would.” I lead her down the hallway and into a room off to the side, then flip on the light, revealing the golf simulator. A large black screen is at the end of the room, a fake tee and greens are set up in front of it, and all different-sized golf clubs are on the right, along with a bucket of balls.

“Oh, this looks entertaining.” She heads over to the golf clubs and picks one up. “Are we going to drive balls into the wall?”

I take the club from her and say, “For one, that’s a putter, and secondly, we aren’t just driving them into the wall.” I flip the switch and the simulator comes to life. “We’re going to play a round of golf.”

She takes in the screen and her face lights up. “Wow . . . you boys really do know how to have a good time, don’t you?”

“This was Hornsby’s idea, and it was a very well-received idea. He spends the most time down here, but we all like to challenge each other. I’m not terribly good, but I can do a pretty good job. I thought we could take turns hitting. So, I would drive, you’d set up on the green, and then I putt. Then you drive, and so on and so forth.”

“We’d work together.”

I nod.

She smiles at me. “I like that idea, because I think we know that you’d destroy me if we played against each other.”

“Uh, yeah, I figured that out the minute you picked up the putter and started talking about driving.”

I go over to the screen and set it up for one player and a course of all par three holes. I figure that would be easier for Winnie.

When it’s all set up, I turn to her and catch her staring at me with a smirk. She’s in a pair of black leggings and a hot-pink top. Her hair is still drying from her shower but she put it half up, half down. She looks adorable.

“What’s that smirk for?” I ask her.

“Are you going to be that guy who leans in behind me and teaches me how to hit the ball?”

“I thought about it.”

“I knew it.” She shakes her head and walks up to me, placing her hand on my chest. “Is your plan to get super handsy today?”

“Isn’t that always the plan?” I ask, resting my hand on her hip.

“As long as I’m able to reciprocate, then I’m good with it.”

“Babe, feel free to touch anything you want, at any time.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You called me babe.”

“Yeah, got a problem with that?”

She shakes her head. “Just never been called babe before, that’s all. I like it.”

Not that I want to bring the fucker up, but I ask, “Josh never called you babe?”

“No. He thought it was asinine—his words not mine. Why call me a nickname when I have a real name?”

“What a tool,” I mutter as I go to the clubs and pick out a driver. “Do you want to drive first?”

“No, I want to watch you first and then you can teach me.”

“Works for me.” I step up to the tee, place a ball on it, and then I set up in front of it. I explain while I get into position. “Feet should be shoulder distance apart. And your arms aren’t really driving through the ball, but rather your hips and shoulders are doing the work. It’ll feel awkward at first, but you’ll get the hang of it.”

I set up, and then I bring the club back and swing forward. The ball shoots off the tee and smacks into the screen, rolling off across the floor while the simulator takes over, showing my ball onscreen as it soars down the fairway.

“Okay, that’s really cool.” She comes up next to me. “So, the simulator just knows how hard you’ve hit it?”

“Yup, and then it places you on the hole based on how you’ve hit the ball. It gets pretty addictive.”

“I can see that.” She walks up to the clubs. “Okay, what should I pick up?”

I select a club for her and say, “This would work. We’re pretty close to the hole because of my superior drive, so you’re going to have to chip it to the green.”

“Is that like a half swing or something?”

“Pretty much,” I answer. “Now get into position.”

She stands in front of the starting position, I place the ball in front of her, and then I move behind her.

I smooth my hands down her arms to where her hands grip the club.

“Mmm, I knew you were going to straddle me like this. You can move your pelvis closer to my butt, though. Don’t be shy.” She wiggles her butt and I chuckle.

“Trying to be respectful.”

“Forget respect. Make me feel good with your golf skills.”

“If that’s the case . . .” I move in closer and press my dick right up against her ass.

“Yup, just like that.” She wiggles against my cock.

“Hey,” I say in a stern voice. I’m actually surprised. She’s way more comfortable, flirty, than I thought she’d be. I’m glad, though. “Unless you want this to turn into naked golf, watch what you do with that sexy ass of yours.” I smack her ass and she lets out a little yelp, which makes me smile. “Now, focus. This is how you want to grip the club.” I show her and she mimics my position. “Now you’re going to want to bring the club back to about this height and then drive forward.”

I give her a few practice swings with me and then pull away.

“So, just hit it?”

“Yup, just hit it.”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, shifts her feet, and then she pulls the club back and swings. “Where did it go?” she asks. “The screen isn’t moving.”

Holding back my chuckle is next to impossible. “You—you missed the ball.”

“What?” She looks down and sees the ball at her feet. “Oh.” She lets out a hearty laugh. “Well, that’s not productive.”

“We’ll call it a practice swing. Try again. This time, keep your eye on the ball as you swing.”

“Right, okay.” She takes another deep breath, brings the club back, and then swings forward, this time connecting with the ball and sending it onto the green, just a few feet from the hole.

“Winnie, holy shit.”

“Was that good?” she asks, looking for confirmation.

“Really fucking good.”

She tosses the club in the air and then runs and jumps up on me, cinching her legs around my waist. I catch her with ease and then stare at her as she cups the back of my head.

She stares down at me and says, “I don’t precisely know what I’m doing, but the celebration seemed necessary.”

I laugh. “You could kiss me. That’s what usually happens when a human jumps into another human’s arms.”

“A celebratory kiss.” She leans down and presses the lightest of kisses across my mouth. It’s so brief that I barely have time to open my eyes before she’s back on the ground and picking up the club she tossed.

“Hey, that wasn’t a very long kiss.”

She claps her hands together. “We have a game to play, Pacey. We’re not here to make out on the green. We’re here to win.”

I sigh and walk over to the clubs to select a putter. “Why do I feel as if I just created a monster?”

“You have. Now get it together, Lawes, and focus on this putt. I set you up, now you take us home.”

Chuckling, I get ready for seventeen more holes with an intense Winnie at the helm.

“YOU DO REMEMBER THE RULES, RIGHT?” Winnie asks as I lie across the blankets in the loft, our lunch between us.

After a grueling eighteen holes with Winnie chastising and cheering, we played another game of rock paper scissors, and I ended up winning again with paper. I chose lunch in the loft, picnic-style. There are plenty of other places where we could eat lunch, but I wanted something intimate, something where we could be alone.

The loft is a transformed attic space. Holmes will come up here on occasion to read, but thankfully, he’s stuck to the library today. But it’s a small, pitched-ceilinged space no bigger than sixteen by sixteen. The room is filled with blankets and pillows to lie on, as well as a few adult-sized beanbag chairs. The room is lit only by bulb string lights, and there are two windows that can be propped open too. Taters never comes up here anymore because Sarah actually designed the room. It’s hella romantic and exactly where I wanted to have lunch with Winnie after a competitive morning with the golf simulator.

“What rules?” I ask.

“The no-sex and naked rules.” She lifts a brow at me.

“What makes you think I’m going to break the rules?” I prop the windows open, letting the sound and fresh smell of rain filter in.

She gestures to the room. “This is what girly dreams are made of. The lights, the pillows and blankets, the hot guy, the finger foods we can easily feed each other. I can see this getting incredibly romantic incredibly quickly.”

“It’s already romantic, Winnie. Deal with it.” I take out the glasses I had Stephan pack for us and I pop open one of the blueberry lavender ciders I know she loves so much.

Sitting across from me, her legs are crossed and she’s watching my every move as I prepare our picnic with drinks, a wooden charcuterie platter, and the chocolates I got from the candy store yesterday. Once everything is ready, I glance at her and I see the question in her eyes.

“What?” I ask her.

“Just thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?”

She motions to the set up. “Have you, you know, done this before?”

“A picnic?”

She shakes her head. “No, have you set up such a romantic meal before, for someone special?”

“No.” My eyes meet hers. “You’re the first.”

“But you’re so good at it.”

I shrug. “Just trying to make it nice for you. No experience necessary.”

“Well, thank you. This is more than you needed to do.”

I hand her a glass of cider. “Do you remember the second half of this lunch?”

She sips her drink and briefly closes her eyes, pleased with the flavor. “I do. You get to ask me anything, and I can ask you anything in return.”

“Exactly. Since I won rock paper scissors, I get to ask first.” I motion to the food. “Feel free to eat.” I pick up a piece of cheese and a cracker and I pop them in my mouth. Winnie does the same and waits patiently while I think of a good question for her. “Tell me one thing you wish Josh did for you but never did.”

She has her glass midway to her lips when she pauses. “Coming in hot with the hard-hitting questions. I wasn’t expecting that. In fact, I wasn’t expecting you to want to know anything about Josh, to be honest.”

I’m not completely sure why I’m asking, either. “I don’t really want to know anything about Josh, but I’m curious, I guess, about where you felt let down. Maybe I don’t want to be another one of those people. That said, you didn’t think I was going to toss you some softballs, did you?”

“That’s very sweet, Pacey. And . . . I appreciate that. You. But, yeah, I thought maybe it was going to be something like ‘what’s your favorite dinner?’ My answer would’ve been chicken parmesan with garlic bread.”

“Noted, now answer my question.”

“Hmm.” She picks up another piece of cheese and takes a small bite from it. “I don’t want you thinking Josh was entirely bad. He was really good at the beginning of our relationship, but then he just . . . stopped caring. Stopped trying, and that’s when we grew distant. During the time we were growing apart, he always relied on me to cook him dinner, which was fine. We were living together at the time—”

“You lived together?” I ask, slightly shocked. I wouldn’t have guessed that.

“Yeah, for a year until I moved back in with my mom to take care of her. He wasn’t happy about that choice. He’d stay with me on occasion, but those visits became shorter and shorter. But when we lived together, I kind of wished that every once in a while, he’d surprise me by making dinner. It was challenging working all day at the bookstore and then being expected to make something for him for dinner.”

I try not to show my anger too much, but seriously, what a fucking tool. I don’t know that much about Josh, but from what my dad has told me, he’s very self-righteous. He believes everyone owes him something. My dad thinks it stems from growing up without a dad. The bitter attitude. The anger he carries heavily on his chest. And the worst part is Josh blames my dad, when my dad had no idea he even had another son. If Josh needs to be mad at anyone, it’s his mom.

“Did you ever make dinner together?”

She shakes her head. “No, I always thought it would be fun to take one of those dinner classes together, but he said it was stupid, and why take a class when I already knew how to cook? I tried to explain to him that it was about doing something fun with the person you love. He didn’t get it; he had already pulled away by then.” She looks off to the side. “At the end of our relationship, we barely kissed. I asked him if he ever cheated on me and he said no. He might have distanced himself, but he never cheated.”

“What a hero,” I mutter.

“What’s that?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Your turn to ask a question.”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“No, not really. I mean, nothing serious. I’ve dated a few girls here and there, but I wouldn’t say I ever had someone I would call a girlfriend. And it’s not because I have a fear of commitment, just haven’t found anyone I really want to call mine, you know?”

“So, you’re not opposed to commitment?” she asks.

“That’s two questions.” I smirk.

“Hey, I answered more about Josh.”

I nudge her knee. “Just teasing. And I would actually prefer to be in a relationship at this point. I know twenty-seven isn’t old, but it’s old enough for me to realize that picking up random girls at bars and having one-night stands really isn’t for me anymore. I want the companionship, the feeling of not being alone. I want to be able to call my girl after a shit game and just listen to her tell me about her day to make me feel better. I want to come home from an away game to a smile and open arms, not a cold, sterile apartment. Just haven’t been able to put the time into replaceing that special someone.” I glance at her.

“I can understand that. After this last year, I can completely commiserate with being alone. It’s not fun. Yes, I have Max and Katherine—”

“But it’s different,” I say.

She nods. “Very different. They’re friends. Yes, they listen and they keep me company, but there’s something different when you’re with someone. The human touch is something special, something I crave. Having someone hold my hand, or just look at me differently than as a friend, it matters.”

“I’m starting to see the importance of that.”

She smirks and her cheeks blush. “You talking about me?”

“Yeah, I am.” I pop a piece of cheese in my mouth, followed by a few pistachios.

“I appreciate the honesty.” She picks up some pistachios, as well, and says, “Your turn to ask a question.”

“Dream life—if you could paint it, where would you be, in this exact moment?”

Instead of answering right away, she gives it some thought, and when she’s ready to talk, her eyes land on her lap and she speaks softly. “I’d probably be taking some homemade lemonade out to my cute backyard that I share with my husband. We’d live in a bungalow, because I think they’re absolutely adorable. The backyard would be full of greenery that I’ve spent hours pruning and weeding. We’d have a firepit in the backyard with cedar Adirondack chairs. Sitting in one of them would be my mom. Sitting in another would be my husband. They would be talking, laughing, and reminding me how lucky I am to have them in my life.” Her eyes meet mine. “I know it’s simple, but it’s the one thing I wish I could still have, the opportunity for my husband and my mom to talk. I know that will never happen and it makes me sad. My mom will never know who I end up with, she’ll never meet my children. It’s just . . . sad.”

“I think that’s the perfect dream,” I say as I reach out and take her hand in mine.

“And I know she’s looking down on me, watching over me, but it’s not the same.”

“I get it.”

The smallest of smiles pulls at her lips. “I do think she had something to do with me getting lost, though, the first night. Or at least brought me here.”

“Yeah?” I ask, forgetting about the food now, completely transfixed by Winnie. “How so?”

“She was never a super fan of Josh. I mean, she was in the beginning, when he was attentive, but toward the end, she saw the mental toll the relationship took on me—you’ve experienced it as well—and she told me I deserved better. One of her biggest fears was that I was going to be alone, since my dad passed when I was young and I don’t have any siblings.” Winnie shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s just convenient, is all, that I end up in a house with a bunch of guys that she’d drool over. It’s her ideal meet-cute. She was really into that.”

“Do you think out of the five guys in the house, she’d have picked me for you?”

Winnie smirks. “I want to say yes, but I’ve a feeling she’d have gravitated to someone else.”

I sit taller. “Who?”

“You can’t hold it against him.”

“I’ll do as I please. Now, tell me, who would your mom think is better than me?”

“Not better, per se, but I think she’d have just pictured me with someone more like my dad.”

“Uh-huh, and who would that be? If you say Taters, I’m throwing this cheese platter into the wall.”

She laughs out loud and shakes her head. “Silas would be my mom’s last choice. She’d give me the troubled, quiet Halsey before she picked Silas.” She rubs her thumb over my knuckles. “I really think she’d have liked Levi.”

“Lev—” I calm myself and give it some thought. “Because he’s just a happy-go-lucky guy, right?”

Winnie nods. “Yeah. He just has that air about him, you know?”

“I get it.” I look toward the ceiling at the strings of bulbs. I’m not entirely convinced that Winnie’s not spinning one of her tales here. After all, I was convinced she knew a lot about Mars just the other day . . . But I still need to know. “I would’ve been her second option, right?”

“Easily,” she answers with humor.

“Then I’ll take it.”

“WHO ON EARTH came up with this game?” Winnie asks as Hornsby finishes filling the last of the water balloons.

“Posey. He used to play it when he was a kid, but instead of water balloons, they used eggs. He didn’t think wasting eggs would be appropriate, so we use water balloons.”

After we finished our lunch, Winnie and I lay on our stomachs, on top of beanbag chairs, and stared out at the falling rain until the clouds dried up and parted, allowing the sun to lift the moisture from the grass.

It was calm, serene, nothing compared to what we’re about to do.

Winnie won the next round of rock paper scissors and, oddly, since she stated she had no clue what to do, she said she wanted Posey to decide. Which is why we’re outside, standing in a circle with Taters, Posey, Hornsby, and even Holmes, who Winnie pleaded with to play, hovering over a flat rock with a water bottle on top.

“You promise this isn’t a kissing game?” Winnie asks, looking concerned.

“Do you really think five guys would want to play a kissing game with each other?”

She chuckles. “I guess not.”

Stepping in, Posey says, “Okay, Winnie. The name of the game is spin and peg.”

“That sounds violent.” Winnie moves in close to me.

“It’s not. It’s fun.” Posey picks up the water bottle from the flat rock. “We each are going to take a turn spinning the bottle. When it stops spinning and lands on someone, that person is the chosen pegger.”

“These are technical terms,” I whisper into Winnie’s ear. “Try to keep up.”

She chuckles quietly as Posey continues, “The peggies—”

“See, technical.”

“Dude,” Posey says with annoyance. “You’re ruining this experience for me.”

“Sorry.” I hold up my hand in apology.

“Anyway, the peggies must run in the opposite direction once they’re not chosen. It’s the pegger’s job to run to the water balloon bucket, grab a balloon, and then peg one of the peggies. You get pegged twice and you’re out.”

“I fear I’m at an extreme disadvantage here,” Winnie says.

“Nah, I got you,” I whisper in her ear.

Posey claps his hands together. “Everyone ready?”

“Yup,” we say as we gather around the flat rock. I put Winnie on the side furthest away from the balloons so she can leave the vicinity the quickest.

Posey leans down and spins the bottle. I get into position. It slows to a stop and lands on Hornsby.

“Run,” I shout as I scoop Winnie up and over my shoulder and run with her as fast as I can, her laughing and screaming the whole time.

“He’s coming for us,” she shouts. “Duck.”

As carefully as I can, I hit the ground, making sure to protect her along the way. The balloon breaks just to the right of me.

“What the actual fuck,” Hornsby protests. “They can’t double-team like that.”

Water from the ground seeps into our clothes as I help Winnie up to her feet. “There’s nothing in the rules that states it’s illegal to carry a partner,” I defend.

“It doesn’t state that in the rules, but we all know this is an individual game,” Posey says while jogging back. “Which means, peggies are supposed to use their own two feet.”

In defense, Winnie says, “I had no idea he was going to do that.”

“Throwing me under the bus? I see how it is.”

We all make it back to the flat rock, and this time, Hornsby spins the bottle. It slows and then lands on me.

Winnie screams, I leap over the rock, grab a water balloon, and peg her right in the back, the water exploding all over her.

“Oh my God,” Winnie says while spinning around to look at me, humor in her eyes. “You just hit me.”

“Uh-oh,” Hornsby says. “Looks as though there’s going to be a fight on Lover’s Lane.”

“You threw me under the bus when I was helping you,” I say while she pokes my sides, making me laugh. “I have to show you who’s boss.”

“Is that so?” she asks.

“Don’t worry,” Taters says to Winnie while draping his arm over her shoulder. “We got your six. Lawes is going down.”

Winnie looks positively thrilled that Taters is interacting with her. “Are you telling me Pacey Lawes is enemy target number one?”

“Yup,” Hornsby says. “He doesn’t mess with our girl and get away with it.”

“Our girl?” I ask, brows raised.

“Yeah, our girl,” Hornsby says while leading Winnie back to the rock.

Ah, hell.

“I WANT to hear all of the embarrassing stories about Pacey,” Winnie says over the roar of the fire.

After the boys ganged up on me and had me down after three rounds, I sat out and watched them all peg each other, leaving Winnie the winner in the end. It was rather comical, watching her scream and run in a zigzag motion—her classic move—as the other guys booked it for the woods.

Stephan called us in to dinner and we all quickly changed out of our wet clothes and enjoyed some homemade pizza. It was fucking delicious. I found out Winnie really likes meat, which confuses me, because I keep thinking she’s a vegan because of her egg allergy. But no, she very much enjoys the meat. Once dinner was done, Taters brought out s’mores ingredients and we all headed to the firepit and roasted some homemade marshmallows. Our stomachs are absolutely full now, Winnie is curled against me, wearing one of my Agitators sweatshirts, which looks fucking amazing on her, and we’re all enjoying some fireside conversation while the stars overhead are sporadically blocked by rolling clouds.

“We don’t have to talk about me,” I suggest, squeezing Winnie tightly.

“No, I like that idea,” Posey says as he takes down one last marshmallow. I’ll never know how that man has a six-pack with the amount of crap he consumes. He has to be one of those lucky fucks with the good genes.

“Where do we even begin?” Taters asks, while tapping his chin.

From behind his book, Holmes says, “The skates interview.”

What the hell, Holmes?

“Nah, we’re good with that story,” I say, waving him off. “We don’t need to recount what happened.”

“Ooh, sounds good if Pacey doesn’t want it told,” Winnie says.

Taters and Hornsby are laughing behind their hands.

“Oh, it’s good,” Posey says. “Really freaking good.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“You know”—I yawn—“I’m getting tired and, wow, Winnie, you really need some sleep. It’s best that we leave right now.”

Ignoring this, Posey leans toward Winnie and says, “Last year, before the first home game of the season, they were awarding Lawes with the Vezina Trophy.”

“What’s that?” Winnie asks.

“An award for best goaltender of the season,” Hornsby answers. “Your boy has received it five times.”

Winnie turns to me in surprise. “Wow, seriously?”

I lean in and whisper, “Don’t look so surprised. I’m really fucking good at what I do.” At least I was before I got hit in the head.

“Anyway,” Posey continues, “it’s this big ceremony in front of tons of fans, and there was this guy on the team, Igor Novikov. He hated Lawes, because according to Novi, Lawes stole his girl one night.”

“Oh, is that right?” Winnie asks.

“No, he thought I did, but I didn’t. Dude was delusional, and he also was psychotic.”

“Facts,” Taters says. “He knew Pacey was getting his award out on the ice, so he put clear tape on the bottom of Pacey’s skates.”

“What does that do?” Winnie asks.

Hornsby chuckles. “Makes it impossible to skate on the ice. They called out his name to receive his award and Pacey comes flying off the bench and totally eats it in front of tens of thousands of people.”

Winnie covers her mouth and laughs.

“And because he’s a prideful man, he kept attempting to get up. After his third fall, he caught on and instead of skating, he tiptoed his way to the award ceremony, where he tripped one more time and landed face-first into the commissioner’s wife’s boobs.”

“Stop it.” Winnie laughs out loud. “He did not.”

Being the silent but deadly one—apparently—Holmes hands his phone over to Winnie, cued up and ready to show the award ceremony.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Holmes doesn’t say anything, just goes back to his book as Winnie presses play. Together, we watch as I crash and fall to the ice. Her hand goes to her mouth again as she silently chuckles. I tippy-toe across the ice, and then at the last minute, plummet straight into a set of breasts.

“Oh . . . my . . . God, that’s just—that has to be the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Seeing it in real life was particularly special,” Taters says. “I like to show it on the TV screens in the locker room every once in a while, you know, when we need a pick-me-up.”

Winnie watches it again, and because she’s having such a good time, I allow it, despite the laugh being had at my expense. “Is this Novi guy still on the team?” she asks.

“Nah, traded last season. He’s playing in New York now.”

“I might have to start following him on social media, if he has an account.”

“He does,” Taters says with a laugh. “And it’s a serious thirst trap. Dude only posts pictures of himself with his shirt off.”

“Ooh, my kind of account to follow, then.”

I squeeze her side and she laughs while handing Holmes back his phone. This time she really does yawn and then curls farther into me.

“Tired?” I ask her.

She nods.

So, I take that moment—before the boys can tell more stories, because there are more—to stand from my chair. “I’m exhausted,” I announce, and pull Winnie up with me. “Out of fear of what you might say to Winnie, I’m taking her with me.”

“Sure,” Taters says, “That’s why you’re taking her with you.”

Ignoring him, I say good night and so does Winnie, and with my arm draped over her shoulder, we head into the house and down the hallway to our rooms.

“I had an awesome day today,” Winnie says. “You’re a great time, Pacey.”

“I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to recognize that.”

“So full of yourself.”

“All hockey players are,” I say as we reach her door. She turns toward me and leans against her door.

“Are you going to kiss me good night, Pacey? Or am I going to have to make the first move again?”

“Can’t a man play hard to get?”

“Is that what you were doing?” she asks, tugging on my shirt and pulling me closer.

“I’m not going to give away my secrets.”

She chuckles and smooths her hand up my chest, and I take that moment to prop my hand against her door, next to her head, and then reach up and grip her cheek. It hasn’t been just a good day. It’s been one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Part of me feels like shit for getting information about Josh, but I did genuinely want to know how to please her. For her. And watching her get along with my boys . . . Nothing beats that, really. They’ve accepted her, can see her worth. Her quirky mischievousness. They like her, too.

“You’re awesome to hang with too, Winnie.”

“Yeah?” She tugs me closer. “Prove it.”

Smiling, I use my thumb to angle her chin up right before my mouth descends on hers. Sweet, full lips meet mine and I immediately get lost in the taste of her. We really did keep everything PG today. Besides the occasional handholding or snuggling, we didn’t kiss and all hands stayed above clothes. It made the day that much better, because instead of letting the sexual attraction we have for each other take over, we got to know each other on another level.

It was the perfect day.

And now has the perfect ending as I push my body up against hers. She gasps when I slip my tongue inside her mouth and demand more. Her hands grip the fabric of my shirt and one of her legs curls around mine. She clings to me, wanting more, needing more, and it makes me feel so goddamn amazing. This beautiful, fun, witty girl wants me.

But she doesn’t want me because I’m a famous athlete. She couldn’t care less that I play hockey—I’m not even sure that part of my life registers much with her. No, she wants me on a deeper level. She wants me because of the man I am, the true man.

Our tongues twirl together, twist, and because I can’t keep my hands off her, I slip one hand under her sweatshirt to her bare skin. She gasps as my thumb swipes across her stomach before I guide my hand to her back. My fingers play dangerously with the waistband of her pants. I’m tempted to slip them in, to grab hold of this sumptuous ass, but I also know I don’t want to ruin today with a quick grab, a quick feel.

This kiss is where it stops. I pull away despite her protests and press a small kiss to her nose. I push off the wall and take a step back. I watch as her eyes slowly open, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate.

“You’re mean,” she says, making me laugh.

“I’m mean?” I point to my chest. “How am I mean?”

“Kissing me back and then pulling away. It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is how damn good you look in my sweatshirt.”

She smiles and clutches at the sweatshirt. “Do you want it back?”

I shake my head. “Nah, it looks better on you.”

I take another step back so I don’t feel tempted to peel that sweatshirt off her myself.

Sensing my retreat, Winnie says, “Thank you for today, Pacey. Thank you for making the day . . . well, unique. It was good to laugh again.”

“Anytime, Winnie.” I give her a quick wave. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too.”

And with that, she slips into her bedroom and shuts the door. Once I hear it click, I move down the hallway to my bedroom, where I shut my door and flop back on my bed. I drape my arm over my eyes and take a deep breath.

Holy fuck.

I like a girl.

This was the last thing I was expecting after that nightmare ending to the postseason, but life has a funny way of happening. Instead of focusing on my flaws, my fears, I’ve completely forgotten about them, and I’ve been distracted by a girl who has imprinted her laugh and those eyes on my brain.

I’ve never had this feeling before. As if I’m itching all over while my stomach tumbles over and over again. The only way for the itching and tumbling to stop is to see her.

It’s all new to me. And if she loved today because she was able to laugh, to forget that her loss is still so recent, so heartbreaking, then I’m glad to be the man giving her that. And want to give it to her again tomorrow.

I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d never found anyone I cared enough about to call my girlfriend, but with Winnie, I could easily see her claiming that title.

Who am I kidding? I want her claiming that title.

My phone buzzes and I quickly snag it from my pocket hoping it’s Winnie, but when I see that it’s my dad, my hope falls.

Dad: Has Josh reached out?

Even more annoyed now, I text back.

Pacey: Yeah.

Dad: Did you talk to him?

Pacey: Not yet.

Dad: Promise that you will talk to him.

What a shitty promise to have to make, because the last thing I want to do is talk to Josh. Not after the way he treated me, my dad . . . and now Winnie. He doesn’t deserve my time, nor my attention.

Tempted to text Dad back and let him know my true feelings, I instead let his request go unanswered.

I don’t have time for Josh.