“Never,” she whispers, and when I kiss her again, this time it’s soft, lingering, tasting like vanilla and all the things I love about Neesha Gilmore. I can’t seem to pull away, stealing another kiss, then another, memorizing the feel of her lips against mine and wishing that I didn’t have a game so I could do this all night.
“Lowe’s got game on and off the ice!” Cade says, while the room erupts in whistles.
“Hey, Lowe,” Jamie calls out, “save some energy for the actual game!”
“You should probably leave,” she laughs against my lips, but instead of pushing me away, her hands linger on my chest. “Win for me tonight. I’ll be here when it’s over.”
“Neesha, I want you here for everything—wins, losses, even when my teammates inevitably embarrass me because I’m completely gone for a cupcake baker.”
She snort-laughs. “Speaking of being gone, I had no idea how good you’d look in uniform. Almost as attractive as when you’re shirtless fixing Mimi’s house,” she says, then her eyes widen in horror. “Oh my gosh, did I just say that out loud?”
The locker room explodes in laughter.
“She’s got excellent taste,” Asher says.
“I like her even more now!” Cade adds.
I grin, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. “They can handle it. So just to confirm—no more practice dates?”
“Definitely not,” she says, her cheeks still pink.
“Thank goodness. I was running out of excuses to need coffee every morning.”
“Well, your girlfriend will be making you coffee from now on,” she says, testing out the word with a shy smile.
My girlfriend.The words make me feel like I could fly.
“Come on, Lowe!” Jamie shouts from the doorway. “You can make out with your girlfriend after we win!”
“Go,” she says, giving me a gentle push. “There’s more of this waiting for you after the victory celebration.”
I start walking backward, never taking my eyes off her. “You know what? I think I need more practice at this boyfriend thing.”
She beams at me. “Lucky for you, I’ve had an excellent teacher.”
“And I’m a very dedicated student,” I call back as the guys drag me toward the tunnel.
The last thing I see before heading out to the ice is Neesha in my jersey, blowing me a kiss that I swear gives me superpowers.
CHAPTER 27
NEESHA
Thanksgiving Day
Thanksgiving in Maple Falls looks exactly like a Hallmark movie: smoke curling from chimneys, neighbors stopping by with homemade pies, and the beginning signs of Christmas decorations going into shop windows. Life has been a whirlwind since my interview with Vivian Johns hitNorthwest Food Magazine. The feature brought dozens of new orders from as far away as Portland. Themayor’sgala in mid-November became a community effort that we somehow pulled off, with half the town pitching in. Between borrowing Mrs. Nelson’s kitchen and spending evenings at Lucian’s place, I’ve managed to keep up with demand while finally paying off Mom’s remaining medical bills. Soon, I’ll have enough saved to buy a food truck and get my business name painted on the side:The Icing on the Cake.
With everything that’s happened—the business success, the town coming together, and me deciding to put down roots in Maple Falls for good—this Thanksgiving feels especiallymeaningful. Especially since I’m celebrating not just with Lucian, but with his dad, Charles Lowe.
“Pass the cranberry sauce, please,” Charles says, reaching across Lucian’s dining table with a smile that reminds me so much of his son. It’s been three days since he arrived in Maple Falls, and I’m still getting used to seeing the family resemblance—the same blue eyes, the same way they both run their hands through their hair when they’re thinking. He’s older, the wrinkles around his eyes deeper, but there’s no doubt they’re father and son.
“Dad, you’ve already had three helpings,” Lucian teases, handing over the bowl.
“Your girlfriend is an incredible cook,” Charles says, winking at me. “I’m making up for lost time.”
I give both men a smile that tells them I’m glad they’re here together. When Lucian first told me his father was coming, I’d been nervous. Everything I’d heard about Charles Lowe painted him as an ambitious businessman who’d hurt the people he should have protected. But the man sitting at our table, talking about how proud he is of Lucian’s winning goal in the last game, asking thoughtful questions about my business plans, doesn’t match that description at all.
“I still can’t believe you came to the game,” Lucian says.
