“Don’t do that,” I demand, pointing my finger at his face.
“What?”
“Don’t give me that look.”
“What look, Austen?” His face breaks out in a smile, and he can barely ask the question through his laughter.
“Don’t try to distract me with those bedroom eyes. I can feel you undressing me with your gaze, Mr. Wilder. Not here.”
“I can’t help it. Look at you.” Carson gets up from his chair, grabs his suit jacket, and then offers his hand out to me. “Come with me, the night isn’t over yet.”
I lace my fingers through his and follow him through the lobby to the hotel’s dock on the Grand Canal, where a beautiful gondola is waiting for us.
“Would it be okay if we took dessert to go?” Carson asks, nodding his head at the gondola.
“I’d love nothing more,” I tell him.
Once we’re situated in the gondola, Carson offers his suit jacket to me. It’s a little brisk this evening, and he knows the Texan in me isn’t as acclimated to the cold as he is. When I’ve got it on, I inhale his masculine scent and bask in the way he wraps his arm around me.
We sit in comfortable silence as we take in the beautiful scenery, which is enhanced at night by the lanterns from the shops, restaurants, hotels, and homes along the Grand Canal reflecting off the water. Carson pours us champagne, and we eat Tiramisù.
After dessert, my mind is still racing from our discussion during dinner, and I decide to ask some questions of my own.
Turning in his arms, I look up at him. “Alright, Golden Boy, it’s my turn. Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
That earns me a deep chuckle. “I didn’t realize I needed to prep for an interview tonight. Well, I hope like hell I’m still playing the game I love. It’s weird. This trip will be the longest I’ve ever gone without ice beneath my feet. After only a week, I’ve already found myself missing it, which I think is a good thing because it means I’m playing a game I still love. But I’m ready for a life beyond just hockey, so I’d hope that in ten years, I’d be continuing to build and prioritize my family—a wife, kids, maybe a few pets.”
“That was a good answer,” I hum as I burrow my head against his chest.
“Aside from becoming a best-selling author, what is your ten-year plan?”
“I just want to write stories that I’m passionate about—that bring me joy. I’m under no illusion that they’ll become bestsellers, but I think it’d be pretty cool if one day a book I wrote was someone’s favorite book,” I admit before continuing, “I too would like to build a family. I’ve always wanted a pet, but with my mom raising us on her own after my dad died, she said adding an indoor animal to the mix was too much.”
“What about geographically? Where do you see yourself?” he asks.
I pause to think about it. “In my heart, I’ll always be a Texan. But I’ve recently given pieces of my heart to a few people who live in Minnesota, so if all goes well, I’d see myself in the Midwest.”
Carson hums in response before adding, “And would you be opposed to moving around if you had to?”
“No. I mean, I’d be devastated if I couldn’t nanny Cadence anymore, and I’ve grown quite attached to Kenna. But if I were to move somewhere else with Uncle Car Car, I’d at least get to visit them a lot.”
“So often that Mack would get sick of us. Though, if I’m lucky enough to stay in Minnesota, what would your thoughts be on having a place in Texas to visit during the off-season?”
The question hangs between us for a moment before I reply, “I think my mama would be upset that you wasted your hard-earned dollars on a place when she’s got more than enough space for us to stay on the ranch.”
“Which brings me to my next question . . . when do I get to officially meet my future in-laws?”
I swat at his chest again, and he bends over in laughter.
“Right, right, right . . . too soon. Moving on to safer questions. What kind of pets are we talking?” Carson questions.
“That cat today was cute,” I suggest. “I think I’d also like a dog someday. Seeing Cadence and Ranger together has converted me into a dog lover.”
“I loved having a dog growing up and would like that for our kids one day. As for the cat, he was so fucking cute. One of the workers told me his name was Omen, which I said was badass. What would you name our future dog and cat?”
I don’t even tease him over the fact that he just did what I did back at dinner—talking about the future as if it’sours. And I think it’s because I like making plans with him. Even though it scares the shit out of me, I also can’t imagine Carson not being a part of my life now that he’s in it.
“I mean, that depends on so many things. What kind of dog or cat is it? What color is their fur? It’s impossible to say if a name would suit them.”
