“That I wanted a love I didn’t have to hide from my dad. And someone who wasn’t intimidated by him, either, or was only interested in me because of my proximity to professional hockey.”
He nods. “Is that still what you want?”
Damn it, Timber. Please don’t make me say this just for you to be an asshole about it.
“Yeah, I think I do,” I finally say. And then I try to soften it so he won’t completely lay into me over it. “It’s so cliché, I know. But… I want something like the movies: the flowers, the dates, the nervous touches. I want what Chase and Axel have.”
Timber’s mouth tightens at the mention of his teammates. They were some of the first to get roped into Marilyn’s plans,but it really seems to have worked out for them. I continue my explanation.
“I want something that’s just…” I sigh, struggling to find a way to say it that won’t have Timber scoffing. “You justknow. There’s no questioning it, no worry you’re wasting your time with someone who won’t even know your friends in another year.”
Bitterness creeps into my voice before I can bury it. I pause, waiting for his response, but he seems almost frozen. Well, not actually because he’s still steering the truck, but his mouth certainly seems to be stuck in the half-frown.
I lay the rest of it out in a whisper right as he pulls up to the practice arena. At least if he decides to try and lay into me, I’ll be able to escape easily.
“I want a scent match, but I’m scared I’ve already matched and don’t know because I was suppressed. What if I already met them and missed my chance?” His jaw tightens. My nerves ratchet tighter. “And I know you’re going to go off about how I’m still super young and have loads of time, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying about it, Timber.”
All at once, the smell of sour orchids surrounds me. I suck in a startled breath and then curse viciously. I dig through my bag, trying to find the scent-blocking lotion. Timber doesn’t say a word as I apply it to every inch of skin I can see, the metallic edge to it a universal sign that it’s working.
Timber parks and then turns to me, his elbow perched on the back of his seat.
“Listen, ‘Rys,” he starts, more gentle than I expected. “You’ll know, okay? You won’t need to wonder if you’ve matched with someone. It’ll hit you out of nowhere like a fucking freight train that’s gone off the rails.” He stretches his neck and then shrugs. “There’s times when you can’t even remember who you are outside of that scent.”
His words soothe me. The nervous tension slowly bleeds away from me as I drop the lotion into my bag and then nod.
“You can talk to me, you know,” Timber says, even more gently. “I’m here if you need help.”
He says it like he hasn’t already done that, like his surprising understanding today hasn’t smoothed the edges of that fraying worry that’s always just under the surface. I offer a shaky smile. His lips twitch, too.
Right before his scent spikes, coffee so strong it feels like a freshly brewed espresso, and he flinches away from me.
My eyes widen. “Are you okay? Your scent just…”
No way am I going to admit that his scent smells like the maple syrup one, right on the edge of losing control.
He quickly deflects. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a twinge in my back.”
I roll my eyes and ease out of the truck.
“Okay, Grandpa,” I mutter, knowing the nickname will get under his skin. “You can just say you don’t want to tell me. I was just trying to help. You know, the way you just said you would help me.”
I stick my hip out, trying to play up the sass. It’s one of those things I know will cut the tension between us. It works like a charm, too.
He scowls. “Little brat.” His tone is affectionate, though, and I laugh.
He walks right next to me, his hands tucked in his jeans.
“I mean it, though. Call me if anything happens that you don’t want Ares to know about. I’m here if you need me.”
I adjust my bag and reach for the door of the arena just as my phone rings. “Yeah, I know, Timber. You always have been.”
Timber beats me to the handle, holding it open even as I fish for my phone. It’s an unknown number, but it’s going through the number attached to the floral shop, so I answer it anyway.
“Hi, this is Carys. How can I help you?”
Chapter Three
RHETT
