“Do you need to wash your hair?”
She shook her head.
Nick reached outside the curtain, grabbed a towel to pull around his waist, which did very little to hide how turned on he was.
Then he stepped out, came back a second later with two towels. “Wrap your hair, baby.”
A subtle surge of embarrassment made her wonder if she’d crossed a line she shouldn’t have. She wrapped her hair as he’d said in that sweet, warm voice. Nick lifted a hand to help her step out but instead of giving her the towel, he dried her body with a gentleness that threatened to undo her. Like he wanted to take care of her. Which wasn’t what she asked for and for some reason, him giving her what she hadn’t known she wanted but clearly needed, clogged her chest and throat with emotion again.
“That’s not how this was supposed to go,” she said, aiming for a teasing tone and knowing she missed when she met his gaze in the mirror.
He stepped up, pressed close, and kissed her bare shoulder. “I know. You still want me later, you can surprise me by crawling into my bed. But right now, we both know that’s not what you need.”
She blinked back tears, wondering how she could do anythingbutwant him. Nick spun her to face him, caught the first tear with his thumb. “You want to crawl into my bed just to talk and let me hold you? I’m good with that, too.” He grinned, bounced his brows, making her laugh. “Clothing optional.”
She sniffed indelicately, her blood simmering with his words. “Not sure you’ll still feel that way after I beat you at cookie decorating.”
Nick laughed and because he was pressed against her, his hand on her hip, she felt the rumble of it and it pulled her out of her sadness and into him.
“I love your competitive spirit. Maybe we should make a small wager,” he said, running the tip of his nose along her cheekbone to her ear. “Something that can’t be turned against me when I win.”
Her fingers gripped the waistband of his towel and Maisie knew, win or lose, she’d be sleeping beside him tonight. If anything happened, it would be spectacular—she knew that firsthand. But even if it didn’t, it would still be one of the best nights of her life because she planned to fall asleep with Nick King holding her in his arms, knowing that’s exactly where they both wanted her to be.
Chapter Fifteen
MOST PEOPLE CALLEDNICKby his last name. But he was thinking, afternotgiving in to every shower fantasy he’d had over the last six months—all of which involved Maisie—his nickname should be Hercules. Because not giving them both what they wanted was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. He chuckled to himself at the thought.Literally.
Tossing the towel he’d used to dry off with in the hamper, he tugged on boxers, joggers, and a T-shirt before picking up his phone from the nightstand and dialing his publicist’s number. Unsurprisingly, Hannah picked up before the end of the first ring. There was a team publicist but Nick felt better having his own.
“There’s a town called Merry?” she asked. “And you’re subbing for goats in it?”
“Yes to both. My sister and nephew live here.”
“Tell me, Nick, my seventh-favorite client, how do you go from‘keep me off the map and under the radar for a bit’ to standing in for a goddamngoatin a nowhere town that I’m still not convinced is real?”
Nick sank down onto the bed, brows knit together. “Seventh? What the hell, Han?”
“You were higher this morning but since then, gifts from two other clients arrived at my door and bumped you.”
He shook his head, smiling. He had a good team of people around him. “Your gift will get there. Then I go back to number one.”
“Aw, that’s cute. I rep Carrie Elliot. But nice try.”
This time, he outright laughed. Carrie was a famous-by-birthright, funny-as-hell, down-to-earth philanthropist-socialite-sometimes-actress. Nick had met her a few times and liked her a hell of a lot.
“I’ll let that one go. Listen, I know I asked you to keep me out of the headlines right now but it was for a good cause.” And it was fun, but he wasn’t admitting that to anyone. “Sorry if I made your job harder.”
She sighed into the phone. “Don’t ever apologize for making me work, Nick. That’s what I’m here for. Honestly, it probably did more good than anything else because there’s rumors about a trade, about your injury, and your future in general. Are you doing okay?”
No mention of panic attacks or retirement, so it was still a win.
Better than expected. “I’m good. I’m spending time with my family and enjoying the break.” The wordsI want to retiresat like a heavy weight on his tongue. But once he said it, he couldn’t take it back even if it stayed between them. Was he ready to take that step? He needed to get back on the ice. Then he’d know.
“I’m glad. You needed it. Your knee is okay? Are you ready for the Seattle game on December thirty-first?”
The schedule was part of why this holiday had worked out perfectly. He was 99 percent sure he was ready physically. It was themental piece tripping him up. What if he froze? Had a panic attack on the ice? What if he got hurt? What if playing again only took away his ability to play?
It was like he could feel each of his ribs restricting around his heart and lungs. “I’ll call you on the twenty-sixth.”
