Kiss and Don’t Tell
: Chapter 4

Three things.

One—Katherine would be LIVID if she knew I was walking into the woods with a stranger right now. A stranger who insisted on carrying my only source of protection, my backpack. I can practically hear her nagging voice in the back of my head, voicing her opinion on what an absolute careless idiot I’m being.

Two—Max would be squealing his handsome head off, telling me to “get it” and “make your move” if he knew I was on a morning jaunt through the woods with a hunky man. He’d absolutely die if he knew I was hanging out with a bunch of professional hockey players, let alone allowing one to join me on a walk and carry my backpack for me.

Three—Pacey Lawes thinks I’m pretty. Not that I know what kind of weight his name carries, because I know nothing about hockey, but nonetheless, this attractive and mysterious but kind man with eyes that intimidate me thinks I’m pretty.

Vain? Maybe.

But it’s never a bad thing when someone calls you pretty. Nothing like a boost to the ego to make you feel better. Confident. Makes a girl shake her hips a little harder, puff out her chest, and lift that chin.

“So, are you from Seattle?” Pacey asks.

And then there’s that—his memory. For a guy who didn’t seem as if he was paying much attention to the events last night, he sure does seem to remember a lot. And in my experience, that doesn’t happen very often. Being that I was ignored heavily in my last relationship, being noticed now feels like a world of difference.

“Yeah. Born and raised. Right in the city, too. Love it there. What about you?”

“Small town in Minnesota,” he answers.

I nod. “That makes sense, since you play hockey. But you don’t have an accent.”

He chuckles and it’s a deep, hearty sound. It’s nice. “Yeah, it comes out every once in a while. But in Minnesota where I’m from, you either play hockey or you drink beer. When you’re old enough, you do both.”

“Drunken hockey—that must be fun.”

“Yeah, I’ve received a few good shots to the moneymaker from some drunken hockey games.”

“You mean punches?” I ask.

“Yup.” He scrubs his hand over his jaw, and I notice how the scruff that lines his handsome face is just a little thicker than last night—not that I was paying close attention or anything.

“Oh God, but aren’t you a goalie? I don’t know much about hockey, but I wouldn’t think goalies get in many fights.”

“We don’t normally get in fights, but on occasion, we get in the mix. But when I’m playing with the boys back home, there aren’t any goalies, which means everyone is fair game.”

I shake my head. “I could never imagine getting punched in the face. Does it hurt?”

He laughs. “Well, it doesn’t feel good. But I guess in the moment, you don’t really think about it. Especially in a game, when the adrenaline is pumping, you kind of go numb and nothing fazes you. And then of course when you’re drunk, you’re not really feeling anything in that moment either.”

“Other than good, right?”

“Right.”

Looking up ahead, Pacey says, “Okay, we’re going to come to an intersection. Were you coming from the highway?”

“Yes, but then I took a wrong turn somewhere and thought I would replace a way to turn around, but never did with all the rain.”

He nods and chuckles. “I was going to ask, how the hell did you get up here if you were planning on heading into town?”

“I hate to admit it, but driving and directions aren’t my strong suit.”

“Got it. If you were coming from the highway, that means you came from the west. This way.” He nods and I fall behind him for a few steps. And that’s when I catch sight of his solid calves. Holy cow, those are muscular. As a matter of fact, his entire leg looks as though it’s made from stone. Solid, rippling with strength. My oh my. I guess that’s what happens when you skate on ice for a living.

“So, you really didn’t go into detail about why you’re here. You said adventure, but a part of me doesn’t quite believe that.”

Feeling comfortable with Pacey, I say, “Yeah, I’ve never been too good at hiding my facial expressions.”

“I could tell this morning when you caught me in the kitchen with my shirt off.”

Oh, dear Jesus.

Yeah, I’m sure he understood exactly what I was thinking when I saw him with his shirt off.

Could he tell I wanted to motorboat his pecs? That I was tempted to run my fingers through his short-clipped chest hair? Could he see how enticing I found the idea of walking up to him, placing my palms on his chest, and then running the flat part of my tongue over his nipples?

Christ, I hope not.

My face heats up again and he smiles at me. The tease.

“You said you were shy,” I point out. “You’re a liar. No shy boy would ever say something like that to a girl.”

“Maybe I’m comfortable now. Comfortable with you. Doesn’t take that long for me to warm up to someone.”

“Good to know. I shall prepare myself for more bold statements.” We keep walking along together in the shade from the canopy of the tall trees. It blessedly blocks the sun, but the wind stirs the trees on occasion and sends light droplets of last night’s rain showering down on us.

“So . . . your adventure?” he prods.

“What about it?” I ask, trying to act casual.

“Care to elaborate?”

I shake my head with a smile. “Not really. I’m good. Thanks.”

“Uh-huh. I see. That’s fair, but tell me this—what are you going to do about lodging?”

“Well, I thought I’d focus on replaceing my car first. Without a car, there’s no adventure.”

“Makes sense, and once we locate your car, because we will, what are you going to do after that?”

“Oh, you know, the regular stuff—stroll into town, see if anyone wants to shelter a girl who’s on an adventure. Classic adventure-type behavior. Spontaneity is the key.”

“You think it’s going to be that easy?”

We ascend a small hill, taking one step at a time. I forgot how muddy these roads were when I was driving last night. No wonder I got stuck. “I mean, I can be pretty convincing,” I say.

“And when you don’t replace a place to stay because everything is occupied?”

“Pitch a tent. Nothing says adventure like living in a tent.”

“Do you have a tent?” he asks.

“No, but I’ve been watching Naked and Afraid, so I’ve learned some basic survival skills from that show. Minus the whole ‘losing your car in the woods’ thing.”

He taps his chin. “I thought your friend didn’t want you to be abducted.”

Hands on my hips as we make our way up the hill, I say, “You know, I think we’re being too harsh on the human population. Not everyone is out to be a creep. Not everyone is looking to abduct humans. There are some good people out there.”

“Yeah, like me and the boys.” That’s very true. “But you got lucky last night. You never know who you’ll run into. And, yes, Canadians are well-known for their politeness and hospitality, but there are still creeps out there. Anything could happen, especially when you least expect it.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”

He laughs. “Just trying to give you some perspective.”

We make it to the top of the hill and, lo and behold, there’s my car.

Oh, look at her, her poor little wheels all stuck.

“Please don’t tell me that’s your car,” Pacey says in disbelief.

“Yup, that’s my car. Isn’t she beautiful?”

“You thought driving a Mini Cooper through the Canadian Rocky Mountains was a smart idea? In a torrential downpour nonetheless?”

“I didn’t think it was going to rain,” I say as we walk up to Minnie. “Oh, Minnie, what happened to you?” I ask, patting her hood.

“Minnie? You named your Mini Cooper Minnie?”

I nod. “Minnie and Winnie, two girls on an adventure.”

Pacey drags his hand over his face. “Jesus. You’re lucky you didn’t get stuck anywhere else and that you made it this far.” He steps down into the small ditch to assess where my wheel is stuck. He shakes his head. “Not sure you’re getting out of this hole.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, walking over to where he’s standing. My feet slide down the ditch and right before I lose my balance, Pacey grabs my elbow and holds me up.

“Careful. It’s really muddy.”

“I see that now. Sorry you have to keep catching me. That must be annoying.”

His eyes meet mine, sincerity ringing true. “Nah, it’s good.”

Those eyes, they will be my undoing, I’m sure of it. I know I’m going to do something really stupid because of those eyes.

“Um, so, the hole?” I ask. Focus, Winnie, not on his eyes, but at the problem at hand.

“Yeah, look at your tire. It’s at least five inches deep into this hole and the back tire is just as bad.” Pacey points to the back so I crane my neck around him to take a look.

Hmm, he is in fact correct—Minnie has some pretty deep holes she’s dealing with.

“Well, can’t we just, you know”—I make a motion with my hand—“push Minnie out?”

His brow raises. “Do you have Herculean powers I don’t know about?”

“I can bench the bar. I found that out when I attempted to work out at the gym a few months ago. Does that mean anything?”

His brows flatten. “That’s forty-five pounds.”

“Really?” I ask with pride. “Huh, I thought it was lighter than that. Look at me. How much can you bench?”

“Three hundred.”

Oh wow.

“Okay, yeah, so, uh . . . you’re strong.” I clear my throat, trying not to remember what he looks like with his shirt off, but my mind fails me, and all of a sudden, I visualize those thick pecs. God, he really is strong. “So, with your three hundred and my forty-five, that means together we can push three hundred and fifty pounds. Rounded up to make it easier. So that’s about the same as pushing a car, right?”

He leans against Minnie’s door and laughs. “I would love to live in the world you seem to live in, where a car weighs three hundred and fifty pounds.”

“That’s not accurate?”

“Not even close. Sorry.”

“Well, maybe our adrenaline will kick in and, you know, leverage and all. The wheels should help us. Why don’t we give it a shot? Never know until you try.”

He shakes his head but then lifts off the car and holds out his hand. “Keys.”

“Oh, I left them in the car.”

“You left your keys in the car?”

“I mean, I didn’t think anyone would take it.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters and opens the car door. He reaches in, turns on the car, and then puts it in neutral. “Okay. Given that we’re on a hill, it would be best if you push from the car door, in case, for some miraculous reason, we’re able to get these wheels out of the holes. Then you can at least stop the car before it rolls down the hill.”

“Oh, smart.” I tap the side of my head. “Looks as though I snagged the hockey player with the brains.”

“There aren’t many of us,” he says with such a cute smile that I can feel my insides churn with butterflies.

God, he really is cute. Well, not just cute, he’s completely and utterly the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. But when he smirks like that, ooh, it’s adorable. Can make anyone weak in the knees.

Not to mention the affinity I seem to have with him. It feels as if I’ve known him in a previous life. I’m so into that. Maybe he was a barkeep and I was the piano-playing whore in an old western town. Best of friends. He keeps telling me I need to get out of the business of spreading my legs, and I keep telling him the bills aren’t going to pay themselves. He wants to take care of me, but he’s barely scraping by with his low wages. That is, until he’s presented with an opportunity of a lifetime when a huge poker tournament comes into town—

“I’m going to push. Hello, are you listening?”

“Huh? What?” I ask, blinking a few times. “Are you good at poker?”

“What?” he asks, completely confused.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?” The dazed look on his face almost makes me laugh out loud, but I keep it together because I’m not looking too sane at the moment.

“Sorry, got confused.”

“What does poker—you know what, never mind.” Probably for the best. “As I was saying, I’m going to push from the hood. I’m hoping pushing down rather than up will give me more leverage.”

“Love that idea. Absolutely brilliant, Pacey.”

He gives me some serious side-eye and then says, “Careful though, it’s slippery over here. With your track record, I don’t see a high success rate of you staying on your feet.”

I start to move past him. “What little faith—whoa.” I slip and he catches me again. I steady myself and let out a deep breath. “That was a horrible coincidence.”

“Okay, keep telling yourself that.” He then slips his hand in mine and I can’t help but give myself a second to memorize what it feels like to have such a large hand in mine, helping me. Guiding me. “Grab the door right here.” He places my hand where he wants it. “That’s it. And try to replace some footing in this mess.” We both look down at our shoes. They’re covered in mud.

“Oh gosh, your shoes are so gross. I’m sorry.”

“No biggie. I can hose them off when I get back to the cabin. Just please concentrate on staying on your feet. I would hate for you to fall face first in the mud.”

Yeah, that would not bode well for me.

“I got this. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He moves around me and then heads to the hood, where he gets in place. “On three, we’re going to push. Remember, you’re in charge of hopping into the car to stop it if it rolls down.”

“Yup. Got it. Now bring your best muscles, Lawes. I know you have them.”

“Thanks to the shakedown you gave me with your eyes earlier.”

“No need to embarrass a girl,” I say, trying to play it cool even though I want to bury my head in the mud from humiliation.

“Don’t worry, I gave you the same shakedown last night when you came into the cabin.”

Okay, yup, cue the red cheeks again.

But can we reflect for a moment—he gave me a shakedown? I wish I’d seen it. I wish I’d been able to capture the look on his face, what it looked like to have him take me in. Did he like everything he saw? His statement leads me to believe he did.

“On three, Winnie, we push. One. Two. Three.”

Together we push Minnie.

My feet slide in the mud.

He grunts.

I grunt.

The car doesn’t move.

I pull up and so does he.

“Would you look at that. Didn’t move an inch,” Pacey says in a sarcastic tone.

I turn to look at him. “You know, I don’t think you were trying your hardest. Do you really bench three hundred? Or are you a bar presser like me?”

His brows shoot to his hairline and it makes me chuckle. “I bench three hundred, and one time I hit three thirty-five.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Prove it.”

He waggles his finger at me. “You sure know how to get under an athlete’s skin, don’t you?”

“Possibly. Come on. On three, we can do this. Ready?”

He nods and gets into position.

“One. Two . . . three.”

We both push at the same time and the car budges.

“Gah . . . keep . . . going. Dig, Pacey. Dig.”

We push and it moves some more.

“Harder, Pacey. Harder.”

“Don’t . . . say . . . it . . . like . . . that,” he grunts out as the car moves some more.

“We’re doing it. Harder. Just like that.”

“Fucking hell.”

Another budge.

“Oh my God, yes. Pacey, yes.”

“Stop sounding like you’re . . . orgasming,” he yells just as the car slips out of the holes.

“Gah, yes,” I scream as the car careens out of my hands.

Entirely too thrilled, I clap my hands together and cheer for our valiant efforts, but those cheers are overshadowed by Pacey yelling at me. “The brakes. Winnie, the brakes.”

“Oh shit!” I lunge forward and would you believe it . . .

I slip in the mud, and instead of catching my car as it rolls backward, I fall face first into the mud and my car careens into a ditch.

Plop.

Splat.

“Motherfucker,” Pacey says as he squats next to me and helps me to my knees. Luckily, I spared my face from the mud, but the front of me is covered. I look down at poor Minnie.

I clear my throat. “Uh, any chance you think we can push Minnie out of that ditch?”

“No,” Pacey says, exasperated.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. But you know, there is one thing to be said about all of this.”

“What? That I said you weren’t going to be able to stay on your feet?”

“Well, that, but also . . .” I poke his chest, his rock-hard chest. “Mr. Doubtful, we were able to get out of the holes. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Yeah, pushed the car right into a ditch that’s now going to require a tow.”

“But don’t you feel that you accomplished something?”

With a laugh, he helps me to my feet and asks, “What do you need from your car? I’ll help you carry it back to the cabin.”

Keeping my arms out to my sides since they’re covered in mud, I ask, “Would you mind grabbing my suitcase from the trunk? And maybe we should bring the keys this time.”

“Yeah, might be a good idea.”

Like the good man he is, he scrambles down into the ditch, grabs my things, and then takes me by the hand to help me to a more solid piece of the road. “Come on, let’s get you back to the cabin and cleaned up.”