by Aven Ellis
Maxime eventually breaks the kiss, and we take a moment to catch our breath. I move my hands to his face, framing it in my hands, feeling absolutely treasured by the way he’s looking at me.
“That kiss,” Maxime murmurs, brushing his fingertips over my swollen lower lip. “That kiss … I don’t even know what to say.”
“It was incredible.”
He dips his head and presses a sweet kiss against my lips that is gentle and soft and sends happiness through my veins.
“A perfect Valentine’s Day kiss?” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Yes,” I say back, smiling.
We kiss again, holding each other’s faces in our hands as we engage in a slow, caressing kiss.
I break it first this time and look up at him. “You would tell me if I tasted like onions, right?”
Maxime’s face lights up in the biggest grin.
“That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me,” he says, dropping another kiss on my mouth.
I furrow my brow. “Do I taste like onions? Is that why you can’t say that?”
Ew, I hope not.
“You happen to taste like honey, but I would still kiss you that way if you tasted like onions. One, because your kiss is that good, and two, because I get to kiss you. That’s all that matters.”
Maxime gives me another kiss. I lose myself in him again, and I know one thing for sure.
This is, without a doubt, the best date I’ve ever been on.
There’s no yacht.
No exotic beach.
No candlelight, champagne, or decadent foods.
Just Maxime. And like he said, that’s all that matters.
And I can’t wait to see where we go next.
***
Celebrate Life with Sprinkles—The Blog
The Game is On
Getting no sleep was so worth it last night.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I look at the horrible dark circles under my eyes. I pick up my Juice Beauty concealer and dab some on my makeup brush, warming it up on the back of my hand before applying it to the large shadows under my eyes.
These are different dark circles. They aren’t from insomnia, or staying up crying over Tom. They weren’t caused by anxiety over awful things being said about me on social media.
These are happy circles.
I grin as I apply concealer to the other eye. Maxime and I kissed in his car, and then again when he walked me up to the door. I invited him inside, but, being a gentleman, he declined and said he would take me up on that next time. Maxime said he wanted to end the evening the right way for a first date—with a sweet, gentle kiss at my front door.
As soon as he left, I told Boris and Natasha all about our date and then got ready for bed. I kept reliving every moment of THAT KISS over and over in my head, from the feeling of his hands on my waist to the sexy scent lingering on his thick hair.
Apparently, Maxime had the same problem, as he texted me to see if I was still up, and we chatted well past midnight before he signed off.
This man makes me happy, and I think he could make me happy for a long time if I decide to let him.
I made plans to meet up with JoJo and Sierra in Denver. We’re going to grab dinner and then go to the game together. Maxime said I’d have a credential and ticket waiting for me at will call, and I’m so excited I could burst.
Knowing tomorrow he’s leaving for a massive road trip through Canada is the hard part. Maxime’s going to be gone for eleven days, but it’s probably for the best. Maybe his being on the road will allow me to slow down my heart and think rationally about him instead of being overwhelmed by the surging feelings I have now.
Of course, texting Maxime today has done nothing but continue to create feelings of excitement and anticipation in me. I told him how I went out to some resale places looking for funky accent pieces for my new place. I also made the dreaded trip to the grocery store to fully stock my kitchen. Of course, more pictures of me showed up online, but at least this time I didn’t have cat food cans shoved in my coat pockets or kibble in my hair.
I’m winning at life today.
“Meow.”
I gasp and turn to find Natasha watching me from the edge of the bathroom door.
My heart is a puddle as I see her sweet, tiny face studying me.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I say softly, putting down my makeup brush.
“Meow.”
Then, to my absolute shock, she arches her back, stretches, and comes to me.
Tears fill my eyes as I slowly lower myself to the floor. Natasha rubs around my leg and begins to purr.
She let me in.
I gently place my hand on her and begin to stroke her super-soft fur. Natasha flops down next to me, purring happily as she allows me to pet her.
“You trust me,” I say aloud, moved by her affection. “I promise I won’t break it, sweet girl.”
I glance up at the doorway.
There’s no sign of Boris.
I draw a breath as I continue to pet Natasha, thinking of how these two kittens represent my heart so well. Natasha is going with her gut, trusting me quickly, wanting to give her affection and receive it in return.
While Boris remains very uncertain. It’s too soon for him to reward me with trust. I have to earn it from him. He’s not going to be hurt by me. He’s cautious. Boris is protecting himself.
“I need to be more like your brother,” I say to Natasha. “Maxime has been wonderful so far, and I can see myself falling for him, but I’ve been wrong before. What if I’m letting my heart repeat the same pattern?”
I can’t take a chance of falling for Maxime and being that wrong again.
Because I have a feeling if Maxime broke my heart, I’d never get it back again.
I draw a breath and exhale slowly as Natasha crawls into my lap. There are still so many things I need to learn about him. About myself. About how we would be together.
“We’re at the beginning,” I remind myself, scratching her tiny little head, “and Mommy is going to see where this can go. I like him, Natasha. I think he could be special, but I won’t know yet for a long time, will I?”
Natasha purrs in approval.
“I’m glad you approve. I do, too. Tonight is a big deal, though. I’m going to see Maxime play hockey. It’s huge that he asked me, don’t you think?”
Natasha rolls over and exposes her belly to me, so I smile and rub it.
It is a big deal, I think happily.
And I can’t wait to see him play in a few hours.
Chapter Twelve
“Ladies,” Sierra says as she picks up her wine glass, “a toast is in order. To Skye being in Denver and to being able to see her all the time.”
I smile as I pick up my glass. We’re sitting in a cozy wine bar near the Mountain Lions Arena, on a huge sofa under dim lights, enjoying some small plates and a bottle of wine before heading over to the game.
“I’ll drink to that,” I say, putting my glass against theirs.
“Cheers,” JoJo says. “I think we should add ‘cheers’ to seeing our men play hockey tonight, too.”
I shoot JoJo a look before taking a sip of my wine. “Maxime is not my man.”
“Not yet,” Sierra says knowingly.
I use my menu as a distraction, shifting my gaze down. “Life is not a Hallmark movie,” I declare. “It’s not about meet cutes and happily ever afters.”
“True. Sometimes it’s about going halfway around the world and meeting someone who noticed you months earlier in a romantic moment of fate,” JoJo declares.
“A second chance love story,” Sierra reiterates.
“As much as I hate to ruin the romance movie plots you two are so brilliantly scripting, we had one date. ONE. That’s not a love story.”
But it very well could be the start of one.
I reach for my wine, taking another sip and trying to focus on my choices for a light dinner.
But Maxime is all I ca
n think about.
“We should get a charcuterie board,” JoJo says, changing the subject. “I want to try the boar sausage.”
“Yes,” Sierra says. “I want to do a guide to summer grilling with game meats, and that might be the perfect thing to add.”
I smile as I continue to read. Part of being around JoJo and Sierra is that their science minds are always sampling new foods and trying to break them down in their heads. Apparently, recipe tester brains never shut off.
“Ooh, and that smoked goose breast sounds amazing,” JoJo adds.
As they go on about the cheeses and how each one complements the flavors of a different meat, something catches my eye.
“I think I want the steamed mussels,” I say. “I love mussels.”
“Did you know that is a popular dish in Belgium?” Sierra asks.
I look up, and both of them are grinning at me.
“I had no idea. He didn’t talk about mussels,” I say.
“Probably because mussels are a second date topic,” JoJo teases.
I can’t help but grin. “I’ll be sure to bring it up later tonight.”
The server comes by to take our order. We go with the charcuterie board, mussels, and lobster pot stickers. After he leaves, I take another sip of wine before bringing up the question I’ve been dying to ask my friends.
“I need to ask about something you all said the other day, in our group chat,” I say. “Is it true Maxime hasn’t dated anyone in a long time?”
“Not even casual dates,” JoJo confirms. “Cade said Maxime seemed shut off from the idea of dating after his last relationship.”
I nod. “I understand that all too well. It’s terrifying to take that chance again.”
It still is, I think.
“I think Maxime likes simplicity,” JoJo continues. “A drama-filled relationship isn’t for him. Since I’ve known him, he has had very defined relationships: one with his teammates; another, deeper one, with close friends on the team, like Cade and Jude; and one with the game itself. It’s been his world for the past three years.”
“There’s a reason why there’s an A on his sweater,” Sierra says, pausing to take a sip of her wine. “He’s devoted everything to the game since he arrived in Denver. Jude says Maxime is the guy who leads by example, on and off the ice. He doesn’t have much of a reputation online. You won’t see pictures of him partying or in bars. In fact, he avoids those pics if he can when the guys are out.”
I know that’s true. He only has a private account that he never posts on. There aren’t even product placement promos, even though he has a platform that would earn him significant money if he were to develop it.
I think about how opposite we are in this regard. I’ve dated on TV. I’m visible across multiple platforms, with my blog and Instagram and website. My visibility will increase with my TV role on Boulder Live.
Then there’s the book, where I’ll have to dive into my past.
A pit begins to form in the bottom of my stomach. Maxime knows my story. He knows the journey I’m about to take with my career. Will this someday be too much for him? Me being everywhere while he hates being visible anyplace except on the ice?
Whoa. That’s leaping way ahead of myself.
We’ve had one date.
We’re having another one tonight, but it might not go beyond this, so it’s crazy to even entertain such thoughts.
This is how you got into trouble with Tom, my head whispers. You started thinking ahead before you even knew him.
“I’m glad they gave Maxime the alternate captain title; he’s a great balance to Gavin,” Sierra says, interrupting my thoughts.
I heed the warning my brain has thrown up and decide to focus on the present, and this conversation with my friends, instead of worrying about what will happen if we continue to date.
If.
I know my brain is right, so why does my chest grow tight at the word “if”?
“Gavin is the fiery, passionate leader,” JoJo says, oblivious to my internal torment. “Maxime is the yin to his yang.”
Gavin Tremblay is the team captain and someone who is very vocal in the locker room. He uses his passion to fire up his teammates. During my internet search, I read that Maxime is the perfect, calming counter to Gavin’s emotional leadership.
I can see that, I think. I read that Maxime comes to practice early and stays late. His summers are spent working on improving his body and mind for the next season. Diligent was a word that came up a lot in the articles I read about him, too. His hard work inspires—and challenges—his teammates to follow his lead.
“Jude says Maxime helped him transition to the league by guiding him on how to work out his problems,” Sierra says.
“Cade has said the same,” JoJo adds. “Maxime is only a year older than Cade at twenty-four, but has the leadership skills of someone who has been around much longer.”
“I read that about him,” I admit. “In all the articles written about Maxime, it’s mentioned how calm he is under pressure. He has discipline and diligence on the ice that inspires that same work ethic in his teammates.”
“All true,” JoJo says. “You know how you’ll see Cade and Jude post funny pictures on Instagram? Or how they’ll tweet comments during a TV show they are watching? You won’t see that from Maxime.”
Once again, that pit forms in my stomach. Maxime lives his life much differently than I do.
“JoJo! Remember how Veronica asked if he’s asexual?” Sierra says. “She’s such an idiot.”
“What?” I cry.
“Okay, first of all, Veronica is Gavin’s horrible, nasty, viper-like girlfriend,” JoJo explains. “You will get to meet her tonight, and she’ll try to get at you because her only joy in life is being nasty and thinking she is the center of the WAGS universe. The rest of the WAGS are lovely so don’t let her put you off.”
“She’s the one bad apple in the bunch,” Sierra adds. “All the other women are wonderful. Except for Veronica the Viper.”
I know the WAGS are the wives and girlfriends of the players.
“I can’t wait,” I say dryly.
JoJo snickers, and Sierra continues the story.
“Anyway, she loves to spread dirt, and she decided during one game to dissect Maxime’s lack of dating life with all of us. At least until JoJo went Sophia Petrillo on her.”
“Sophia like The Golden Girls?” I ask, confused.
JoJo grins. “I told her to shut it. Bluntly, Sophia-style.”
I laugh. “And did she?”
“Oh, she did,” Sierra says. “JoJo doesn’t put up with crap, and Veronica knows it.”
“It made me so mad,” JoJo says. “First of all, like it’s anyone’s business, and second, just because he isn’t dating doesn’t mean he’s asexual. It appalled me she thought that was a conversation to be debated in the group during a game.”
I feel anger rise within me. I know how it feels to have people openly debating your kissing style, your sex life, and other personal details in a public forum. At least I put myself in the position to have people talk crap about me by being on a dating show, but Maxime hadn’t.
“Just make sure you set your boundary with her right away,” Sierra says. “Veronica backs off women she can’t push around.”
“I learned that the hard way,” JoJo says. “I was the recipient of some of her hurtful comments, and it shook my confidence in Cade. But you know who came to my rescue that night? Maxime.”
My emotions shift in an instant. “Maxime?”
“He saw I was upset, and he talked to me. Maxime was level and rational and made everything clear,” JoJo says. “You have a good guy in Maxime, Skye. I know what you’ve been through, and I wouldn’t tell you to date him if I thought he’d hurt you. I honestly think in my heart he could be the best thing to ever happen to you if you let him in.”
Let him in, my brain repeats.
I’ve already taken a few steps in that direction, by be
ing vulnerable and open in sharing my Is It Love? experience with him. I accepted that first date on Valentine’s Day and kissed him freely at the end of the evening. Now I’ve accepted his offer to come to his game tonight and go to dinner with our friends afterward.
We are at the beginning, I think, absently running my finger around the rim of my wine glass. But it’s a good beginning.
And I can’t wait to see him play tonight as the next part of our journey.
Chapter Thirteen
My heart is going to be slow and careful with Maxime, but it’s not with the sport of hockey.
Because I’ve fallen head over heels in love with this game.
We’re only halfway through the first period, but the thrill of seeing a game live is like no other sport I’ve ever experienced. I love how quickly the game moves, how the difference between a goal going in or missing the net can be mere inches, and how the players jump over the wall and get right into the flow of the fast-moving game. I love the sound of the skates cutting the ice and the puck ringing off a goal post. The cold air on my skin is even tolerable in this environment.
I snuggle up in my black, bell-sleeved sweater, layered under a black leather jacket, as a TV timeout is called on the ice. I’m sitting next to JoJo and Sierra in the seats reserved for WAGS, and while I don’t understand much about the game itself, I know I’m amazed at what I see. It’s so much faster in person; I can’t believe the speed of these players. The hits seem harder, more physical, as I hear players bang against the Plexiglass and see the way it absorbs the impact of their bodies.
Of course, the most exciting thing is watching Maxime play. I’m locked in on him at all times, even when he’s on the bench. I’m in awe of how quickly he can turn direction on the ice. Maxime always seems to instinctively know where he needs to be. Right now, he’s on the bench with Gavin, and Maxime is pointing something out on the ice with his gloved hand. I watch as Gavin nods in agreement as Maxime talks to him, no doubt plotting some strategy against the Orlando Bobcats.
A woman moving down our row catches my attention. To my left is a girl named Ana, who is from the Czech Republic and dating a player who has been her boyfriend since they were teens. She made a point to welcome me and chose to sit by me for the game. We exchanged some small talk before she began talking to another WAG.
