“Shouldn’t someone be excited about such a big life change, especially when he is the one choosing it?” I blurt out bluntly as the cool breeze picks up a little. It feels good so I close my eyes, lift my hair and let it wrap around my bare shoulders and neck.
“It’s not a personal choice. It’s a business decision,” I hear him answer. “There’s no point having feelings about it.”
I open my eyes and give him a bit of a glare.
“What?” he asks.
“That was the first typical Avery answer you’ve given to me this entire weekend,” I explain. “I don’t like it.”
“Okay.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment. “I would love to stay in Seattle, but my father explained it wasn’t what’s best for my brand and, like it or not, if I want to have options after hockey, I need to do what’s best for the brand, so I am. Even if it sucks and, yes, it sucks.”
“Much better.” I smile and close my eyes again, enjoying another breeze. “You sound like a human being again.”
“That doesn’t come easy for me,” he admits, his tone sheepish. “Being human. Unfiltered and honest.”
“I like it.”
“That’s why I’m trying,” he replies.
I open my eyes and find him staring at me. Intently. So intently I feel like I should blush, but I don’t know why. He shifts a little and shifts again. I grab the sides of the canoe in panic and he grins. “Don’t worry, I won’t drown you.”
“I would pick L.A. if I were Avery Free Agent Westwood,” I murmur softly, absently, as the rocking boat slows and I let go of the side of the wooden boat to skim my hands across the glasslike surface of the water. “Palm trees, sunshine, movie stars…Oh! You could date a movie star if you lived there!”
He laughs. “I don’t want to date a movie star.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me even they aren’t good enough for Avery Free Agent Westwood!”
I’m teasing him. I’ve been doing it a lot tonight. I realize I like it. A lot. And he doesn’t seem to mind, since he breaks out in the hottest grin most times, so I don’t see why I should stop. He sits up a little. “When have you ever seen a Hollywood romance that didn’t crash and burn in a million ugly, public pieces? No thank you. I’m trying to avoid having my personal life splashed across the Internet, remember?”
“Right. Not good for the image.” I nod as I stifle a yawn. The noise from the wedding reception has faded to a murmur, and even the music has stopped. The lights from the houses that speckle the lakeshore are mostly gone. It’s late and my flight tomorrow is at seven. “We should head back.”
I crawl to the center of the canoe and sit on the centerboard as I reach for the oars. The whole boat shifts drastically to the left and then the right, and I squeak out a panicked sound as I watch him move to sit beside me. I shake my head and put a hand on his chest when he gets close enough. It’s like touching a wall it’s so flat and smooth and hard. “I’ll row. You just sit there and look pretty.”
“I am not letting you row me home,” he says, like it’s the most horrifying idea he’s ever encountered.
It makes me laugh. I grab the oar handles and start to move us.
“Seriously, Stephanie. Let me.”
“Oh, come on, what’s the big deal?” I ask, and keep rowing.
We’re not that far from the dock anyway. A couple more good paddles and we’ll be there. But he’s still kneeling near the center of the boat, frowning at me. He reaches for the oar, his hand landing on mine, and I pull away, which makes the boat kind of start to spin to the left. “You don’t have to defend your manhood with me, Avery. I know you’re all man. I got the press release on that.”
I smile at my own joke, but he doesn’t. He tugs the oar again and I let go of the other one to push him back, but he’s ready for me this time and pushes into me. He’s stronger, of course, so I start to tip back. I let go of both oars and grab his neck and shoulder. Now no one is holding the oars. We’re just holding each other. His eyes look like coal as they seem to sweep over my face, and when they land on my lips it makes my tongue dart out and wet them.
“The man I am with you tonight isn’t the man from the press releases,” he says suddenly in a low, rough voice as his fingers spread out over my lower back.
I take in a deep, sharp breath but I can’t seem to let it out. “I know.”
“Do you?” he whispers back, and leans closer.
My heart is thumping so hard like it’s trying to break through my chest and touch the one thumping just as wildly through the front of his white dress shirt.
I think he’s going to kiss me, and suddenly I want nothing more than to kiss him back. The feeling is swift, all-consuming and powerful, like a craving. Like when I would want a pill so bad I could think of nothing else—which makes me panic. I shift abruptly, reaching—almost lunging—for the oar, and the canoe lurches. Avery’s big body rights itself too fast, his weight yanking the wooden oar to the left and tossing me that way with it, and then Avery loses his balance, and before I can even scream, we’re underwater.
It’s not deep at all, so my feet find the bottom, and I’m standing and sputtering in waist-deep water seconds later. Avery is, too, on the other side of the upside-down canoe. We stare at each other over the capsized boat. He doesn’t look like he’s going to kiss me again, which is a shame because Avery looks even hotter soaking wet.Ugh. What is wrong with me?
“We have to get out of here before someone sees me like this,” he explains, his voice tight with stress. “Can you imagine the bullshit stories if I’m caught like this?”
