My Lucky #13

by Piper Rayne

  I take my hands off her hips and watch as she skates away—backward. I’m slack-jawed until she flies up into a double Axel and comes back down, her speed increasing as her hair flows behind her while she whips around the rink. She uses the toe pick to stop herself and grins at me.

  I shake my head. “What the hell?”

  “Sorry, I think you were hoping for a damsel in distress on the ice rink and I didn’t want to disappoint you, but being back on ice does feel good.” She skates away, switching back and forth between skating forward and back then twirling. She’s magnificent. “I was an ice skater growing up. Never went anywhere with it though.”

  “I’m not sure why not. You’re really good at it.”

  “Eh, you know how it is. Hard to break into and I eventually got tired of starving myself, getting up at four a.m., and being ridiculed on everything from performance to technique. I just wasn’t invested enough to continue.” She comes to a stop in front of me. “But I’ll tell you one thing I’ve never done on the ice.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Played hockey.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. When I figure skated, I hated the hockey players because they always felt like they deserved more ice time than us. Why do you think our practices always started at five a.m.?”

  “See? And I was the hockey player more than willing to watch the ice skaters twirl around.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Is that all you thought we did was twirl around?”

  I skate over to my bag to grab some sticks and pucks. “Hell no, I give you skaters props. To spin and land like that is scary shit.”

  “And to me, being plowed into by two hundred and ten pounds is scary shit.”

  I laugh and toss a puck on the ice and bring over one stick. I set us up with the puck and wrap my arms around her while we both hold the stick.

  “You smell good,” I murmur, fully aware I’m going half chub.

  “Thank you,” she says in a soft voice.

  I rock the stick back then bring it forward, shooting the puck into the net.

  She couldn’t be more perfect for me if a mad scientist made her specifically for me. I feel my willpower waning and I’m not sure how this is going to pan out because I keep thinking, “Joran who?”

  “Thanks for that. I didn’t realize how much I missed it,” I say to Aiden when we reach our hotel rooms. For tonight, he’ll be staying next door to me, but tomorrow after the game, he has to go share a room with Maksim.

  “You said the smell of the ice made you feel nauseous.”

  “For a long time, it did. My parents wanted to put me in more competitions because some coach I was working with told them there was hope for me. I saw my competition out there on the ice every Saturday. Pretty sure the coach just wanted my parents’ money.” I use my key card and enter my room. Surprisingly, Aiden follows me. “I humored them for a while, but the criticism was intense and I started to hate going to practice, so eventually I faked an injury. Never really skated again… until today.”

  “You seemed to enjoy it. You’re graceful.”

  I put my suitcase on the luggage holder and Aiden sits on the edge of the bed. “You’re a hockey player, of course I seem graceful.”

  I laugh, but in truth, Aiden gave me something today he didn’t plan to. He reminded me that I used to love skating. It’s probably why I love watching him on the ice, although I act like I don’t.

  I say, “You proved to be a great friend again today.”

  “Perfect. That’s what I’m striving for, to get stuck in the friend zone.”

  I ignore his comment because if he knew how much being in this hotel room with him unnerves me, he wouldn’t joke about it. I need to remain strong. Eventually he’ll waver and his attention will shift to someone else. I don’t want to think about how I’ll handle that when the time comes.

  “How is Joran anyway?” he asks.

  I freeze for a moment while unzipping my bag. “Good.”

  I don’t want to lie, so I don’t say anything more. I’m guessing Joran hasn’t told Aiden about me ending things. It’s been an easy way for me to keep Aiden in the friend zone without much pushback from him.

  He stands abruptly. “Want to do dinner tonight? Or we could just hang in the room and watch a movie?”

  Should I do any of this with Aiden? Hell no.

  Should I politely decline? Of course.

  Will I? Not a chance.

  I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.

  “I’m cool with whatever.” I shrug.

  “I’ll make reservations. You know how I hate being stuck in the hotel room. Nothing too fancy.” He heads toward the door.

  “Sounds good.”

  “See you in a little bit… friend.” He leaves and the door slams shut.

  The walls are so thin, I hear him walk into his room beside mine. My body begs for me to quit this game. To go next door and tell him how much I yearn for him every night. But doing that would only double the heartbreak later. Seeing Jeremy proved that. If I couldn’t figure out a man was using me for six years, how can I trust my gut after less than a couple months with another man?

  Technically, Aiden hasn’t made an advance on me. Flirtatious comments aren’t actions. He could be a massive flirt like that with everyone for all I know.

  I finish unpacking, trying to keep my mind off Aiden—which is impossible when I pull out my dress for tomorrow. My Florida Fury fan wear seems to keep on growing. My phone dings with a text from Aiden that says he’ll pick me up at seven, dress casual.

  Since I have a few hours, I set my computer on the desk and check on my clients’ social media, but something catches my eye. I glance down at the garbage can and find my self-help book in the trash.

  What the hell?

  I pick it up and place it back on the table. It must have fallen in.

  One thing I can say about Aiden is that he’s always punctual. At seven on the dot, a knock sounds on my door and I leave the bathroom to let him in.

  “Nice look,” he says, much more chipper than he was earlier.

  “Sorry, one more eyelash to go.” I take the eyelash curler off the lashes on my right eye and move it to my left while I head back to the bathroom.

  “No problem.” He must go sit in the room while I finish with my makeup.

  When I come out a few minutes later, he’s thumbing through the self-help book.

  “Did you by chance throw my book away earlier?”

  “Yep,” he answers and tosses it in the trash again. “You don’t need that. You’re perfect the way you are.”

  I pass him and grab the book out of the empty trash. “You can’t just throw away my book, Aiden.”

  He shrugs. “Suit yourself then. You look great.”

  I’m only wearing a pair of jeans, a tight V-neck long-sleeved shirt, and I’ll have a coat on until we get there. “You did say casual, right?”

  He has on a pair of jeans and a V-neck sweater with nothing else, so I’m assuming I’m good.

  “Yeah, you ready then?”

  “I am.”

  I grab my purse and we leave the room, walking toward the elevator. “Do you think someone might recognize you with no hat and no sunglasses?”

  “Probably. I hope it’s not too annoying for you.”

  “Oh, I don’t care. Don’t ever do anything on account of me.”

  The elevator arrives and we step in. With only us, it feels intimate and somewhat like a date. When it dings on the bottom floor, Aiden takes my hand and leads me out of the elevator as though I’m his. I’m so busy inwardly sighing at how perfect it feels that I don’t bother to pull away. God, I’m playing with fire here. I know it, but I can’t seem to help myself.

  A few people whisper and point, but we get through the lobby without anyone stopping us. There’s a car out front and the doorman nods when he sees Aiden. “Mr. Drake, your ride is here.”

  We’ve al
ways taken taxis, so I’m not sure what’s up with this blacked-out SUV with a private driver thing.

  “Just makes it easier in New York,” Aiden says as though he’s reading my mind and dismissing the car as anything important.

  “For sure,” I agree.

  We get into the SUV and pull away from the hotel.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask.

  “Nope.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Nope.” He grins as though he’s enjoying this.

  So we sit in the car and I stare at the city that never sleeps. All the lights, the people milling around, it’s addictive and makes me want to be a part of it. I kind of wish we could’ve walked to dinner, but maybe tomorrow. Once again, we’re in a city in the north in February. I think California has a hockey team—why can’t we go there?

  The car slows and I look out the window to see we’re outside a Mexican restaurant.

  “I’ll text you when we’re ready after,” Aiden tells the driver.

  “Have fun,” he says to us.

  Aiden files out first and offers me his hand to step onto the curb. He doesn’t wait around too long before he ushers us into the restaurant—I assume so no one recognizes him. It’s as though he set up this whole thing because the hostess knows who he is and we don’t have to wait with other patrons. We’re taken immediately down a hallway.

  “Are you kidnapping me?” I ask in jest.

  He chuckles behind me. “Maybe one day, but today’s not your lucky day.”

  I can’t help but smile as we continue down the hall. I’m thankful it’s so dim in here that he won’t see my grin. I don’t want to lead him on, but I can’t deny that I enjoy our flirting.

  The hostess stops in a back room that only holds about five tables. She says something quietly to a nearby waitress, who peers at us, then we’re guided to a table in the back that has a curtain to keep us hidden from other guests.

  One side is a booth and the other a chair, so I opt for the bench since I’m smaller. Aiden folds his big body into the chair, thanks the hostess, and accepts both of our menus, holding one out to me.

  “Is this hockey god privileges or what?” I touch the curtain.

  “The best thing about New York is if you want to be private and you have money, they make it happen.” He looks over his menu as though this is nothing while I want to scream in delight. I’ve never felt so special.

  I’d do well to remember that we are not on a date.

  “This could be addicting,” I whisper over the candles in the middle of the table.

  Aiden glances around. “Trust me, this is one perk, but there’re a lot of cons that come with the territory too.”

  “Like?”

  “Like the hostess could be calling her friends to say that I’m here and I’ll be bombarded with requests for autographs and tickets as soon as we walk out.”

  “So enjoy the moment, is what you’re saying?”

  He smiles, and his face in candlelight makes my ovaries squeeze. Damn, he’s so good-looking.

  “Enjoy the moment,” he says in a husky voice that makes my panties wet.

  Aiden goes on to tell me how he’s been here before and that he loves the guacamole. He makes suggestions about what’s good but doesn’t try to pressure me on what to choose. I decide on the taco salad and he gets the carne asada. We both order margaritas and relax back into our seats.

  “Thank you, this is really nice,” I say.

  “Really nice would’ve been a Michelin three-star restaurant, which I would’ve done. But this is what the friend zone gets you.” His smile says he’s not serious, but his comment makes me think that maybe I need to nip this in the bud.

  “I sense that you’re not thrilled about the friends thing?”

  He straightens his napkin on his lap and plays with it for a moment, seeming to wrestle with something, before he meets my gaze. “I’m not. If it wasn’t for Joran, I’d already have asked you out on a real date. That’s probably a shitty thing to say when the guy is my agent, but it’s the honest truth and I can’t pretend it isn’t. This is the best I can do with you still involved with him.”

  I swallow the golf-ball-sized lie in the back of my throat. I could tell him that Joran and I aren’t anything anymore, but then I’d probably end up sleeping with him tonight. “Oh.”

  He holds up his hand. “I’m sorry, I know I’m stepping over the line. It’s just…” He shakes his head. “Never mind, can we just enjoy tonight? Platonically?”

  My shoulders slouch and I sip my too-big margarita, loving the salt rim. “Did I ever tell you how much I love salt?” I change the subject to move past this awkwardness.

  “I bet I can beat you with my love for salt with the weirdest thing I put it on.”

  “Oh, you’re a salt lover?”

  He nods. “I am.”

  “I put it on watermelon.”

  “Amateur. Pizza?” he asks.

  “You got me there. I’ve never had it on pizza.”

  He closes his eyes. “Get a sausage and onion and put salt and pepper on it. You’ll end up thanking me.”

  “I’ll have to try that. I put my ketchup in a pile on the side of my plate, then top it with salt, then dip my salt-covered fries in it.” I give him a look that says, “Beat that.”

  “Tried it. Loved it.”

  As if someone orchestrated it, the guacamole arrives with the basket of chips. Usually I’d shy away from adding salt in case the other person doesn’t want it, but Aiden picks up the salt shaker and dangles it in front of my face.

  I smile. “Go ahead.”

  “Come on, you know you want to do it,” he teases.

  I snag it from his grasp and shake it onto the guacamole. “Chips too?”

  “Um… yeah.” He grins.

  We both pick up a chip and dip it in the guacamole, and it’s so frickin’ good.

  “Seriously, I could get naked and swim in that guacamole, it’s so good.”

  For a moment I think I stunned him speechless, but he cracks up a second later, then chokes on a chip and has to grab his water to get it down. “You’re full of surprises, Saige Fowler.”

  Our eyes catch over the candlelight and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m single and available. That Joran isn’t in my life and even when he was, it wasn’t serious and it was never physical. I’d do just about anything to jump over this table and lick the guacamole off his hard muscular body. But I don’t because I’d do just about anything—except get over the fear of breaking my own heart.

  “You amaze me too, Aiden Drake.”

  And it’s the truth. This man isn’t who I thought he was, and I’m honored to be in his presence and thankful I threw a drink in his face on New Year’s Eve. I had no idea how boring my life was without him in it.

  We opt to walk to the theater because it’s not that far away and I’ve come to enjoy viewing a new city through Saige’s eyes.

  “Can I give you a disclaimer before we get to the movie theater?” I ask.

  She smiles and gives a small wave to an elderly couple walking by. “Sure.”

  “I wanted to go to an older movie, but it’s February, the month of love, so that means most movie theaters are playing romances. I found this one and they’re showing ‘bad boys and good girls’ films. I couldn’t pass it up. They’re both Reese Witherspoon movies, so we have—”

  “Oh, I like this already. I get to eat all the salt I want without feeling bad and then I get rom-coms? Best da—” She stops short. “Night ever.”

  “Just wait until you hear the movies. Cruel Intentions and Fear.”

  She chuckles. “Would you classify Fear as a romance?”

  Other than knowing Mark Wahlberg is in it, I’ve never seen it. “I guess we’ll discuss after.”

  “Why did you pick old movies?” she asks.

  “I wanted to go somewhere with you where we wouldn’t be interrupted. Even if I can’t talk to you, at le
ast I’m not sharing you.”

  She stops walking on the sidewalk and looks at the ground. “Aiden…” There are tears in her eyes when she looks up.

  “Don’t make a big deal of it. Remember, I don’t have a lot of friends.” I grab her hand and tug her forward.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “It shouldn’t be. Jeremy should’ve put you on a pedestal. Dumbass didn’t, I guess.”

  The movie theater is across the street, so I lead her over to get our tickets before I embarrass myself further. Inside, we opt for no more food since we just finished dinner.

  I let Saige pick our seats and she heads right to the middle, her decision speaking volumes about this being a platonic experience. If I don’t shut my mouth soon, she’s going to stop hanging out with me and I don’t know if I could handle that right now. If the choice is for us to be friends or nothing, I’ll pick friends.

  There aren’t a lot of other people in the theater and the ones who are here seem more into each other than what’s playing on the screen. The lights dim and I slide down in my seat, spreading my knees wide and crossing my arms so I don’t try to get handsy with Saige.

  Fear comes on first and we sit through the movie, not saying much. She jumps a few times when Mark Wahlberg’s character gives us a scare. I get what she’s saying about this not being romantic.

  “I’m gonna get a snack, want one?” I ask her.

  “Anything chocolate,” she whispers.

  “Okay, I’ll be back.”

  Leaving the theater, I exhale a deep breath. Being so close to her and not being able to touch her in any way is torture. I need to control these feelings. A good beat-off job tonight should suffice. For a little while anyway.

  I leave the concession stand with Twizzlers and Peanut M&M’s. I hope she’s not allergic to peanuts. Surely I’d know that by now, right?

  “Excuse me, Mr. Drake?” The guy who helped me at the concession stand stops me before I can leave. I knew he was overly nice to me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Could I get an autograph?” He holds out a napkin and pen.

  “Sure.” I set down the candy and scribble my signature.