“I didn’t know Lola was going to show up,” I tell Maisy, worried Lola came on too strong. My daughter is intelligent, witty, and the most important woman in my life. As much as she says she wants me to date, saying something and experiencing it are two vastly different concepts. “I mean, she hinted at it, but I thought she was joking. If I thought she was going to show, I would have given you a heads-up.”
“It definitely broke the ice,” Maisy laughs, looking more relaxed than worried. She shrugs. “She’s just looking out for you.”
I tip my head in concession of her point. “It’s only been me and Lola for a long time.”
Maisy nods, understanding lightening her eyes. “I’m glad we met. She’s awesome.”
I smile at the sincerity underlining her words. “Yeah, she’s awesome. Also, drives me nuts. She hasn’t caught on that I don’t need looking after.”
Maisy bites her bottom lip. “Don’t you?”
A rumble of laughter moves through my chest, surprising me since I don’t laugh often. At least not with women other than Lola and Jas. I glance down at my dark jeans and plain blue shirt. My dark hair is pulled back, a messy knot at the back of my head. I shrug.
Maisy laughs, reaching for my forearm playfully. But she hangs on once she catches it, her fingernails grazing my skin. “I didn’t mean your appearance, Axel. You’ve got this sexy, understated, Jason Momoa look going on.”
My eyebrows nearly disappear into my hairline. Jason Momoa? “Aquaman?”
Maisy giggles. God, she’s adorable. And sweet. And too fucking nice to compare me to a DC Comics character. “I bet Lola would agree.”
“Jas, maybe,” I concede. “Lol would cringe.”
Maisy dips her head. I’m not sure if it’s in agreement or embarrassment, but her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, and she blossoms before me. The energy between us shifts. More flirtation, less uncertainty. More possibility, less questioning.
The graze of her fingernails stops, holding still but with more of a grip. I shift closer and she crosses her legs, until her hip is nearly pressing into my side. I hang onto the bar, and she slides her hand farther up my arm. Her palm is smooth and the sensation of her skin against mine causes a thrill to shoot through me.
I haven’t been a saint. I’ve slept with women over the past decade. But rarely the same woman. And never more than two or three times.
With Maisy, it’s different. I’d want more than a handful of nights. I’d want…more with her. It should scare me but I’m too old to not know my own mind. As much as Lola’s presence annoyed me at first, now, it’s a blessing. Because Lola’s approval of Maisy gives me the nudge I need to make a move. God, I want to kiss her. To show her how I feel, even if I can’t say it.
I’m peering down at her, our eyes locked, silently feeling each other out. I note the same desire coursing through my veins, rippling over her expression. I see the questions burning behind her irises. She wants reassurances.
For the first time in years, I want to give them to her. I lower my face to her ear. “Yes, Maisy.”
“What?” she gasps, half a question, half a wish.
I smile and the curve of my lip runs along the shell of her ear. “I want to kiss you.”
She stills but her chest rises and falls faster. I turn my head, my mouth nearly running along her jaw. A moment of hesitation sparks in my mind and I pause.
I can’t kiss Maisy here. In front of all these people. The Bolts, the Coyotes, the patrons of Corks.
My molars grind together. But God, do I want to. I want to lay her out on the damn bar and kiss her fiercely, possessively, enough to show everyone in here that I more than like her. Already, I care about her.
She lifts her face, her eyes wide, curious, hopeful.
“Maisy—” I whisper.
“Shots!” A voice rings out behind me.
Cole Philips knocks into us from the side and my arm darts out to keep Maisy upright on the barstool as I’m shoved into her.
I shake Philips off, about to cuss him out for being so damn careless. But the second I turn, I realize how drunk he is. It’s his birthday and he’s the damn rookie, green and eager and too damn nice.
“I’m sorry, Brawler,” he slurs, his eyes glazed as they land on the empty glass in his hand. “I never drink this much. Ever.” He looks back up at Maisy, his eyes wide. “You okay, Mais?”
At the genuine concern in his tone and the sweet glow on Maisy’s cheeks, I nod. “You okay, Rookie?”
“Yeah! Take a shot!” he hollers, turning back to the group.
Damien Barnes chuckles into his glass and Mila shoots Maisy and me a curious glance before accepting a shot glass.
I tug Maisy off the barstool, nudging her in front of me. My hands plant on the bar, caging her in, and keeping her safe from the drunk stumbling taking place around us.
When she’s nestled against my chest, I stand straighter. At my full height, 6’2”, the top of Maisy’s head doesn’t meet my chin. I move my arms closer together, cradling her arms in between mine.
“You want a shot?” I ask, lowering my mouth to her ear again. But this time, I’ve gotten control of myself. I’m not going to kiss Maisy in a crowded bar for the first time. I’m not going to set off a chain of gossip and open us up to questioning by the small town we live in.
We’re not there yet. We need to take our time, tread carefully. If Asher was here, he’d smack the back of my head and tell me to go for it. But I’m the more cautious brother; the one with more to lose if a romantic connection doesn’t pan out.
Maisy shakes her head, twisting her body so she can face me. “I’m ready to call it a night. I mean, if you are,” she tacks on, trying to read my expression.
Shit. Dread sinks to the pit of my stomach. Did I come on too strong? Mess this up? Did I misread the signs and blow this thing with this woman before it had a chance to start?
“Sure, okay,” I say easily, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable. Or worse, pressured, to hang with me. I step back, giving her room and pull my phone from my back pocket to order a car. “Uber will be here in seven minutes. I’ll see you to your home.”
“What about your car?”
I shake my head. “Been drinking.”
She smiles. “You won’t drive after one drink?”
“Gotta practice what I preach. I have a kid,” I remind her, scanning through my messages. “Lola and Jas already left.”
In the past, women’s eyes would dim at the reminder of Lola, but Maisy’s soften. “You’re a good dad, Axel.” Maisy reaches for me again and laces her fingers with mine.
My brow furrows as I take in our joined hands. Does she still want me to kiss her? Why can’t I read the signs? I don’t remember dating being this damn confusing. I feel like a fish out of water.
Maisy squeezes my hand, almost like a reassurance. But I’m supposed to give those to her.
Blowing out a deep breath, I settle up the bar tab, call out a farewell to the guys, and wait for Maisy to hug Mila goodbye. When she’s done whispering with her friend, the two of them exchanging a series of hand gestures and widening eyes that reminds me of Lola and Jas, Maisy and I head outside to the Uber.
When Maisy slips inside, she releases my hand. I watch her the entire ride to her house, waiting for her to say something, but she remains quiet. She stares out the window, as if lost in thought. Or wanting to avoid me.
Damn, is she avoiding me?
When we pull up to her house, I ask the driver to wait a minute, so I can walk her to her front door.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Maisy says dismissively, flicking her wrist.
“Yes, I do.” I hold the door open for her. What the hell kind of man was Josh? Or the other men she dated? Jesus, is this the norm now? Will Lola date men who honk their horns instead of taking the extra three minutes to come to the door and ring the bell with some decency? I mutter under my breath about it and Maisy shoots me a questioning look. Feeling myself grow agitated, I shake my head.
Instead, I place a hand in the center of her back and escort her to her front door.
She gives me a sweet smile. “Thanks for dragging me out tonight. I had fun.”
Dragging her out. Does that mean she thinks this was a friendly, team thing? Doesn’t she know I think of her as more than that? Did the almost-kiss spook her? Is this her drawing a line in the sand?
I clear my throat and rock back on my heels, more confused now than I was at Corks. I stuff my hands in my pockets so I won’t touch her. Reach for her. Kiss her. “Of course. I’m glad you came. It was fun.”
She nods, shuffling her feet and…waiting. A breeze ripples over the porch, blowing a strand of hair into her face. She shakes her head, as if to move it, and I can’t stop myself.
Slipping my hand from my pocket, I reach forward and grasp the end of the strand, pure silk, and gently tuck it behind her ear.
Her eyes bore into mine, swirling with emotions I can’t read. Her gaze falls to my mouth once and I wonder if she’s thinking about our almost-kiss. I wonder if she still thinks I look like Jason Momoa.
“Thanks for tonight, Axel,” she says again.
I nod, unsure of what to say. “Yeah.” I nearly wince at how gruff, abrupt, I sound. “Well…” I clear my throat again. “Have a good night, Maisy.”
“You too,” she says.
I tip my head toward her door. “I’ll wait for you to get inside.” Because there’s no way I’m getting back in a fucking Uber and leaving her standing on her porch, watching me drive away.
“Oh, right.” She shakes her head, punching in the code for her lock.
I wait for her to open the door and flip on the light before I lift a hand in farewell. Then, I bound down the stairs and back to the Uber, feeling like a massive tool.
I look up in time to see the door close. The Uber driver pulls away from the curb and I wince.
Was that a date? A friendly exchange? A hint at a flirty arrangement?
Why can’t I read the situation? Why don’t I know how to do this anymore?
Jason Momoa would know what the hell to do right now.
Sighing, I pull my phone out of my pocket and feel my face burn as I read Lola’s messages.
Lola: I’m home. Sorry I’m not sorry for crashing drinks at Corks.
Lola: She’s great, Dad! I hope you and Maisy have fun tonight.
Lola: Ooh, no response…use protection!
Jesus, what am I going to do with my kid? Well, I guess if anyone knew how to date, or navigate dating, nowadays, it would be Lola and Jasmine, right?
Nah, they’ll never let me live it down if I ask them for advice.
Blowing out a sigh, I call Asher. I’m not surprised when I get his voicemail. He’s probably scuba-diving in Mexico or hiking a glacier in Alaska. I leave him a message, asking him to call me back.
“We’re here,” the Uber driver says.
I look up and realize we’re idling in front of my house. Sighing again, I put my phone away. Tomorrow. I’ll think about this tomorrow.
“Have a good night,” I mutter.
“You too,” he offers.
I walk into my house and into my bedroom. But sleep never comes. I’m too busy recalling flashing blue eyes and a sweet smile.
I’m too busy worrying I don’t stand a chance with Maisy Stratford at all.
“You didn’t kiss her?” Lola squeals Sunday morning at breakfast.
“Shh!” I hush, my eyes darting around the cafe.
Jasmine smirks, loitering at the end of our table. Her pen hovers over her notepad as she pretends she’s working. She’s not. She’s just hungry for gossip.
“Spill the tea,” Jasmine demands.
“What?” I glance at the table. “I didn’t order tea, Jas.”
Lola sighs and Jasmine rolls her eyes. Giving up the facade of work, she sits down next to Lola. “We want the details. The information on what happened last night. The tea. Spill it.”
I continue to look at my daughter and her friend like they’ve come from another planet. Sometimes, it feels like they have. Am I really that old, out of touch, at thirty-six? The guys on the team who aren’t much younger than me seem to have a better pulse on how things work in today’s world.
The lingo. Trendy fashion. How to fucking date.
“Tell us what happened!” Jasmine throws her hands up, her pen clattering to the floor. Even Lola looks exasperated.
Spill the tea.
“Oh,” I mutter, finally getting it.
The girls stare at me. Waiting.
“I just wished her a good night,” I say lamely.
Lola narrows her eyes. Jasmine wrinkles her nose. They continue to stare.
“Why the hell are you looking at me like that?” I pick up my coffee mug, feeling like a bug under a magnifying glass. In daylight. About to get burned from the inside out.
“You’re clueless,” Jasmine says sympathetically.
Lola shakes her head, like I’m some sad specimen to behold and not a damn defenseman in the NHL.
“I couldn’t kiss her in front of the team at Corks,” I say defensively.
“You’re right there,” Lola agrees.
“Yeah, that was smart, D,” Jasmine chimes in. “But at her house?”
“Totally could have kissed her good night,” Lola agrees.
“Well, I didn’t,” I say, my tone hard.
“Have you messaged her today? Or yesterday?” Jasmine asks.
My brow furrows, concerned. “No. Am I supposed to?”
The girls exchange a look.
“Will you see her at the arena tomorrow?” Lola asks.
“Most likely,” I say, but I know I’ll see Maisy. I’ve now created a list of reasons why I need to pass by, or through, the front office every time I enter The Honeycomb. They all have to do with getting a glimpse at her.
“Okay, then don’t message. Just, talk to her at work tomorrow.” Lola takes a sip of her coffee.
Jasmine nods in agreement. “But don’t be weird.”
“Weird?” I spit out. “How awkward do you girls think I am?”
They exchange another look.
I wave a hand and gulp my coffee. “Don’t answer that.”
Jasmine sighs. “My boss is giving me a look.”
“Shocked,” I mutter.
She snorts. “I’ll see you at home, Lol. Later, D.”
I wave her away and finish my coffee. It takes me a moment to realize Lola is still staring at me, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth, suspended in air like she forgot she’s eating eggs.
“What?” I groan.
She shakes her head and takes the bite of eggs. “Nothing. I just, I think Maisy could be really good for you, Dad. Don’t mess this up. Just, be yourself. Be…normal.”
“I am normal.”
She laughs. “Friendly. Engaging. But not too desperate, you know? Like, don’t stalk her.”
“I’m not a stalker.”
Lola rolls her eyes. “You need to find a balance. Engage with her, see her at work, but don’t message her every five seconds. Or even every day. Just…act normal. It would be good for you to have someone in your life, Dad. Someone to build a future with.”
I swear under my breath and nod even though I have no idea what the hell kind of advice this is. “Normal. Got it.”
Lola beams.
I look around for Jasmine who suddenly, is nowhere to be found.
I need more coffee.