Chapter 11

Coleson

I don’t really remember what happens over the next few days, but I do remember the way McDavid felt in my arms.

I’ve done nothing but think of her lips pressed to mine. Of my arms wrapped around her waist. Her tits when they made their grand entrance. Of the chemistry that burned between us as we ate and had our first date. A date that ended with a hell of a kiss but also with a load of questions.

As I expected when I left her at her door, she avoided me like the plague for the next few days. How I know this is because she DoorDashed her drink to herself every day. I would have walked down and delivered it to call her on her shit, but I didn’t. I figured she needed time. Space between us. As much as I don’t want to give it to her, I understand.

I’m asking for her to be tied to me for a year.

That’s not like asking someone to the movies.

I hadn’t realized how much I enjoyed seeing her every day. I found myself staring at the hall that leads to the alley, waiting for her to appear. Much to my dismay, she didn’t. Which is probably for the best. Instead, I worked out, I skated, and I worked. I talked to a lawyer about drawing up a prenup to protect us both, and I stewed.

I stewed so badly that I couldn’t even concentrate on much else. I kept going through every possible scenario I could imagine. I came up with answers to her potential questions. I thought up my own questions, though, really, I have no right. She’s helping me, and while, yes, I’m giving her the coffee shop, she’s giving me way more.

A chance at a dream I’ve always wanted.

I don’t know the first thing about being married, but I know I’ll do right by her. I’ll treat her with respect and train her to the best of my ability. I’m terrified to share a space with her. Will she get mad that I’m a tad messy on game days? When I come home, I want all my clothes off and gone. They usually end up on the floor. Maybe I should work on that.

Fuck, will she be grossed out when I fart from eating too much bean dip? I love my bean dip and I don’t think I stink that bad, but she’s so sweet. She probably farts glitter. Does she have a lot of female shit? Is my bathroom going to be overrun? Does she want a dog or a cat?

What in the hell am I getting myself into?

The question haunts me, but when the alley door close to Dirty Pages opens, I forget it all.

McDavid stands before me in bright-green leggings and an oversized black hoodie. She has on dark hiking boots that shine, so I know they’re new. Her braided ponytail hangs out the back of a Coffee Addict ball cap, while her face is free of makeup. Despite her ignoring me for the last few days, and not giving me any reason to think she wanted to sleep with me, I really am surprised I didn’t try to make a move on her before all this. Or maybe it’s because I’m finally truly looking at her. But man, I want her.

Which probably doesn’t bode well for me when I’m about to be married to her for a year.

A grin pulls at my lips as I hold out her drink. Her eyes light up at the sight, and she takes it from me with a huge grin that reaches her sultry eyes. Fucking hell, she’s pretty. “Oh my God, you’re the best,” she gasps in a way that feels so naughty.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” she says gruffly, letting me know she’s not a morning person. She tears the top off the straw and takes a long pull. When she pops her lips off the straw, she looks up at me. “Why are you so chipper?”

I laugh. “I own a coffeehouse. We start serving at five. You may need to become a morning person.”

She gives me a look. “I’d rather not and hire someone who is.”

Her answer gives me hope, and without much thought, I lean in, brushing my lips along her cheek. “Well, I have to say, McDavid, you are radiant in the morning.”

Her brows pull together. “Don’t need to kiss my ass anymore. I’m already going.”

“But you haven’t agreed to marry me,” I say with a wink.

“So, when I do agree to marriage, the flirting will stop?”

The gleam in her eyes makes it real hard to form coherent sentences, but I manage, “Unlike some guys, I do plan to flirt with my wife. Daily.”

“Gotta keep her somehow, huh?” she teases, and my eyes lock with hers.

“I don’t think I’ll have a problem keeping a wife.” The sexual tone is loud and clear, and by the flush spreading along her neck, I know she hears it. I hadn’t planned on sleeping with her this year. I wanted to respect her, and I know sex leads to feelings, which neither of us has time for, but that may change. “Ready?” I ask before she can comment, and she nods, taking my outstretched elbow.

We head to my SUV, and I walk around with her, opening the door. My SUV is lifted, so I hold her hand as she climbs up into the truck more quickly than I would have thought. “With those little legs, I thought I’d have to lift you in.”

She shoots me a dark look. “With these little legs, I can kick you. Hard.”

I snort. “Spicy.”

“Shut up.”

I shut the door, grinning like a fool. I like her. I can do this.

When I get in, I hit the button to start the SUV while I shut my door. I go to put it in drive when McDavid asks, “Before we go, I have a question.”

“Okay?” I ask, and I’m not a fan of her tone. It’s low, unsure, and it suddenly makes me nervous. “Having second thoughts?”

“Ugh, I’ve had thirty. But I’m going. I’m committed.” I flash her a grin, and she looks back down at where she’s moving the straw in and out of her cup. “But if we come upon a bear, trust and believe, I’m pushing you down and hauling ass.”

I let out a roar of laughter at that, and her sweet, angelic laughter joins in, her eyes crinkling with the emotion. As my laughter fades, I nod. “I will gladly be bear food for you.”

“My hero,” she swoons, pressing the back of her hand under her chin in the most adorable damsel-in-distress pose I’ve ever seen. Fuck, she’s pretty. Her braid swings and then comes to rest along her shoulder. I want to grab it, wrap it around my hand, and yank her toward me. I’d kiss the fuck out of her. I’d explore her mouth. I’d taste every single inch of her and then beg for more.

What the hell.

Why am I lusting so badly for this girl?

I try to get ahold of my raging emotions before I say, “But that’s not what you wanted to ask, is it?”

Her hand falls away as she blows out a long breath. “No.”

“What is it, McDavid?”

Her eyes stay locked with mine. “If all this wasn’t happening and you could still get into the NHL with no issues, would you still want a wife?”

“No,” I answer honestly and without hesitation. “I don’t want to be married. I don’t want to be responsible for someone’s feelings, their needs, and their protection. I want to play hockey and selfishly care about nothing but myself.”

Her eyes widen with each word, but she doesn’t look away. Her chin is high, and her lips are turned down. Guilt eats me alive, knowing I put that frown on her face. She shouldn’t be frowning; she should be giving me that little sneaky grin of hers. The thing is, I can’t lie. I have to be truthful, not only for her, but for myself. Maybe I could have toned it down a bit, because in those greenish-brown eyes, I can see the gears grinding. She’s going to say no. I’m not worth a coffee shop. I’m not worth her time.

I’m not marriage material.