SCORING A SWEET THING

JODI OLIVER

Copyright © 2025 by Jodi Oliver

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover design by Emily Wittig

Edited by Sandra at One Love Editing

Proofread by Charity VanHuss, Jeanelle Ricketts and Lori Parks

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Jodi Oliver

CHAPTER ONE

Remington

“What about that one?” Smitty asks, pointing to one of the marshmallows. I have a few options to pick from, but none of them are giving me the right vibe. 

Choosing the wrong marshmallow can ruin my day, so it has to be right. 

“I don’t know,” I say, heaving out a sigh.

Resting both hands on the countertop, I lean forward, hoping that if I get closer, one of them will talk to me. I assess each one carefully, putting a few unsuccessful contestants back into the glass jars I store them in, and soon, my selection is narrowed down to four. I bend at the waist and rest my chin on the back of my folded hands, making me eye level with them. 

Come on, lil’ ’mallows. Who’s it gonna be today?

I can feel Smitty watching me, but I tune him out. I don’t need any distractions right now. He knows this is part of my daily ritual. We’ve been living together for close to two years. He’s used to me by this point.

“So, who’s that one?” he asks after a beat, pointing to the only remaining jumbo marshmallow. 

“Barbara, but Babs for short,” I answer. “She has a hair salon off the Vegas strip, and she specializes in perms and those big poofy ’80s hairstyles.”

“Wow,” he breathes out, almost like he’s mystified. 

I tilt my head toward him. His eyes are so wide I’m worried his eyeballs might fall out of his face.

“Dude, don’t be dropping your eyeballs in my marshmallows.”

Thankfully, his face returns to normal, and when I feel more relaxed that there’s not going to be any rogue eyeball incidents, I return my attention to the contenders.

Babs is the one giving me the biggest vibes right now. I think she’d be good for my morning hot chocolate. Big and fluffy. But then there’s also Shirley. She’s a twisty marshmallow in four different colors. 

“Shirley because she’s twirly,” I murmur under my breath, but I don’t think the retired showgirl is the right one for my morning beverage. She deserves to be on the top of a whipped cream mountain. Maybe with some rainbow sprinkles too.

“We need to buy sprinkles on the way home,” I tell Smitty, because if I don’t tell him, I’ll probably forget, then be sad about it when it’s Shirley’s time to shine.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. But dude, I don’t wanna ruin your voodoo mojo marshmallow sacrifice, but we’ve gotta leave in, like, two minutes. Coach will have our asses if we’re late, and I don’t wanna hit the traffic.”

I roll my eyes. He knows this can’t be rushed, but I know we’re pressed for time. Practice waits for no one, and if we’re even one minute late, Coach Hanson will kick our butts, and I already had my ass handed to me last night when we lost to San Jose.

My pride is still stinging a little about it too.

“Okay, okay.” I stand back upright and pick up Babs. I give her a slight squeeze, testing her voluminousness. She has the perfect amount of pillowy squishiness for a jumbo marshmallow, and she will give me the sweet kick I need to start my day off right.

I drop her into my hot chocolate and watch as Babs floats around. Little chocolate bubbles cling to her as she begins to slowly dissolve. When she starts to sink, I bring the thermos to my lips and take a sip. The sweetness bursts on my tongue, and I let out a happy hum.

“Oh, yeah! That’s good!” I flash a wide smile at my roommate/teammate/best bro.

Smitty’s watching me with a weird expression on his face, like I’ve suddenly grown three heads.

“What?” I ask, twisting the lid onto my thermos, and then I let out a defeated sigh. “Do I have toothpaste on my face again?”

It wouldn’t be the first time, so I wipe my face with my palm just in case.

He shakes his head a few times and grabs the keys to his Jeep from the counter. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Aw, my dude!” I slap his shoulder with my free hand. “Are you hitting on me, Smitty? Because you know I love you, but not like that. I may be pan, but I draw the line at hockey bros.”

“No, I’m not hitting on you, dude,” he replies, a little too quickly for my liking.

I clutch my chest, as if his words have caused me physical pain. “Ouch, hurt my feelings, Smitty! I thought we were besties.”

“We are.” This time, it’s him who rolls his eyes as he turns on his heel and heads toward the door. I follow him out to the car and climb into the passenger seat.

“You’re one of a kind, Remi,” he murmurs.

I grin proudly. “Obvs! There’s only one of me.” 

“Technically, there’s three of you. The clue is in your name. Remington McRae the Third.”

“Technically,” I mock, “only in name. My Grampy and dad aren’t as cool as I am. I’m rare. Like a unicorn. Limited edition.”

“But unicorns aren’t real.”

“Maybe we’re not real,” I argue. “You ever thought about that?”

His brows furrow, and he casts me a quick, confused glance out the corner of his eye. “What are you talking about?”

“How do you know we’re not currently starring in some alien’s dream?” I slap his bicep with the back of my hand. “Or we could be in a reality show!” 

“Uhh… Do you know how dumb that sounds?”

I make a pfft sound. Smitty lacks imagination. Sometimes I feel sorry for the dude. “You sound dumb.” 

By the time we arrive at the practice facility twenty minutes later, I’ve finished my hot chocolate, and I’m energized for practice thanks to Babs. I head to the gym to do my pre-skate warm-up.

This is my third season playing for Seattle, and I fucking love it here. The team. The city. The fans.

If I could meet someone, it would be even better, but dating is hard when you’re a professional athlete. And some people don’t understand my marshmallow hobby. They call me weird, and I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.

After I’ve finished up with my workout, I’m strapping on my leg pads in the locker room when Nolan comes in, a clipboard clutched to his chest. 

“Listen up, boys,” he calls out, standing almost in the center of the room but making sure not to stand on the logo. Dude knows not to bring the bad juju upon us. “We have our annual fundraising gala on Friday for sponsors and long-time season ticket holders, and I need some volunteers for the bachelor auction.”

I groan, tilting my head back until it hits the wall behind me.

Don’t pick me, please don’t pick me, I inwardly plead.

“Sorry, Nolan, but you’ll have to count me out this year,” Mikey says, all smug because he got himself a girlfriend over the off-season. “But Remi’s still single. He loves the bachelor auctions.”

I shoot him my best what the fuck, dude? face.

He knows I do not love the bachelor auctions.

Nolan spins around to face me, a wicked, evil grin lighting up his face. “Remington McRae, what do you say? Want to make some sponsors and season ticket holders very happy?”

I huff, kinda shocked he’d even ask that. “I do that every night I’m in front of the net, thank you very much.”

Okay, so, maybe every night I win, I make them very happy, but the nights I lose? Eh, I doubt it, but then I’m not too happy with myself either.

“I don’t wanna do the bachelor auction this year,” I tell him, slicing my hands through the air.

“But you’re a bachelor, right?” He tilts his head to the side. “Ergo, you need to be a part of the bachelor auction.”

I cross my arms over the top of my chest pads and jut my chin out defiantly. “But how do you know I’m a bachelor?”

“Well, do you have a partner?”

“No, but I could have.”

His face goes all scrunched up. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Throwing my arms out wide, the real reason I don’t want to participate pours out of me in a whine. “I don’t wanna do it because I always end up with the grandmas who like to touch my butt!” 

The room bursts into laughter, and I give my teammates the double bird. Assholes.

It’s become an ongoing joke because I seem to end up with old ladies who like to pat my butt. I don’t know if it’s unintentional or the fact that my ass is so damn peachy. I told myself it’s like I’m doing my part for the elderly because it’s not like they get to pat a non-saggy butt very often at their age.

It’s a nice butt, if I do say so myself, but still. 

“Okaaay,” he drawls, eyes bouncing around at my cackling teammates before landing back on me. “Well, how about this? If you can find a date before Friday, you can get a free pass out of the auction,” he suggests.

“Yeah, okay,” I agree quickly before he can change his mind.

Standing up, I hold on to my pads as they aren’t fully attached to my legs yet and waddle over to where he’s standing. I hold out my hand for him to shake.

“You have a deal. I’m going to find the best partner that ever partnered and let them touch my butt in front of all the old ladies to make them jealous.”

Nolan snickers, taking my hand. “I simply cannot contain my excitement for that, Remington.”

Once he leaves the locker room, I spin around to face my teammates and let out a panicked cry. “Guys, you’ve gotta help me find a date!”

There’s more roaring laughter, but I ignore it. I need to finish getting dressed for practice and figure out how the fuck I’m going to find a date in less than a week. I’m not good on apps, and I struggle in person because for some reason, it’s not socially acceptable to carry marshmallows in my fanny pack in public.

“I overheard Brittany talking to one of her friends about this new app. Heart2Heart or something, I think it was called. It’s a matchmaking app, but it covers all kinds of things. Finding love, plus-ones for events, even someone to accompany you while you walk the dog,” Mikey says.

I blink at him, confused. “But I don’t have a dog.”

He gives me a patient smile. Something he does a lot, I’ve noticed.

“You’re missing the point. It’s an app where you can find someone to be your plus-one.” He emphasizes the last two words by widening his eyes slightly. “And if you have a plus-one, then you’re not a bachelor.”

It takes a few seconds for it to click in my brain, and then I let out a loud gasp.

“Then the senior citizens of Seattle won’t touch my tushy!”

He slaps my shoulder. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner!”

I stumble back to my stall, fishing my phone out of the pocket of my sweatpants. I quickly download the app and skim through the profile setup. I’ll complete it properly later, as I’m vaguely aware of our assistant coach telling us to be out on the ice in five minutes. But before I finish getting ready, I type out a short bio and hope for the best.

Remington: HELP! I need a date to help protect me from grandmas touching my butt!

CHAPTER TWO

Bailey

A sense of unease weighs on my chest as I scroll through the conversation thread. This guy, Foster, seems nice enough. He’s polite and very… normal. He comes across as happy to tag along on the free ride, and Lian seems confident about it. But maybe it’s my brand of overprotectiveness when it comes to my best friend that’s making me wary of this guy and this entire… situation. 

“And you’re sure about this?” I ask, glancing over to Lian. 

I’m lounging on his bed while he’s busy packing clothes into an open suitcase for the cruise he’s going on tomorrow. The cruise he’s going on with this Foster dude.

A guy he’s never met before.

Yeah, I’m not sure how I feel about this at all.

I hate that I wasn’t able to get the time off work to go with him because he’s been excited about this trip for months, but I have too many clients booked in that rescheduling them all would have been a nightmare. 

“Yes, Bailey, of course I’m sure. He seems really nice,” Lian answers, a soft smile lighting up his face. “I mean, really, what could go wrong?”

A lot of things, I want to say, because Lian doesn’t have the best luck. And that’s not just referring to his clumsiness.

Sitting up, I lock his phone and place it on the bedside table. “Do you want me to come with you to the port?”

Lian tilts his head to the side. His mouth kicks up on one side as he arches a brow.

“For what? To scare him away before I’ve gotten the chance to even say hello?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

I scowl at him. “I won’t scare him away.” 

“You will if you look at him like that!” He waves a hand in front of my face before turning back to his closet and continues to speak to me over his shoulder as he sorts through more clothes. “I promise, it’ll be fine. In fact, I’m more worried about you.”

I slump against the headboard, fighting back a groan. “What about me?”

“I’m going to be away for two weeks.” He spins around again, pinning me with a serious expression. “Are you going to leave the house during that time?”

“Yes.”

He gives me an incredulous look. “Aside from going to work?”

“Then no, probably not.”

“Bailey!” He scoffs a laugh. 

“What can I say, I’m a creature of habit.”

Being a tattoo artist, I’m around people all day, every day, and sometimes it can be a lot. Especially for someone who’s an introvert like me and doesn’t really like many people. It’s ironic I work with people every day in the studio, but my love for creating art outweighs the discomfort I feel around new people.

Only just. 

I like being in the comfort of my own home, hiding away playing video games or drawing. I like my solitude, with the exception of Lian, but he’s used to my quiet, antisocial ways.

He opens his mouth to speak again, then lets out a gasp so loud it has me bolting upright and tensing.

“I just had the most amazing idea!”

“Fucking hell, Lian,” I grunt, covering my eyes with my arm as I fall back again. “I thought something was wrong.”

He ignores my concern. “You need to download the H2H app!”

“Uhh, no? Why the fuck would I do that?” I ask, shifting my arm to look at him out of one eye.

“You can find yourself a plus-one to do an activity with while I’m away!” he says excitedly, clapping his hands once before flinging himself onto the bed. Only, instead of landing on the mattress next to me, he ends up landing on me. I let out a pained cry when his elbow hits me in the balls.

“Fuck! Lian!” I hiss, groaning as the sharp pain shoots up to my stomach.

“Oops! I’m sorry!” 

Grimacing, I cup my crotch with my hands and curl in half on my side. Lian scoots up next to me, gently patting my head before he starts combing his fingers through my hair. 

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with you,” I grumble between gritted teeth. 

I hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Because I’m wonderful and amazing.”

I grunt.

“Anyway, what do you say? Wouldn’t it be fun if you found someone who needed a plus-one, and then we could be on this adventure together but separately.”

“That makes no sense and doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

“Bailey,” he whines.

“Lian,” I mimic his tone.

When the pain has subsided slightly, I lift my head to look at him and instantly regret it. His big brown eyes are blinking at me, all cute and endearing, something he does when he wants his own way. “Will you do it for me?”

I narrow my eyes in warning. “Don’t try to guilt me by giving me the look. You know I’ll do anything for you when you give me that look.”

“I know. That’s why I do it.” He grins, then twirls some of my hair around his finger. “I think it’ll be good for you. It doesn’t have to be romantic. There’s all kinds of things on there. Dog walking, school reunions, attending a sports game…”

“I’ll take the dog walking because dogs are elite, but veto the rest.” 

“There’s more than just those! They were just examples.”

“Fine,” I sigh and reach into my pocket for my phone.

He lets out an excited noise as I download the app. I go through the steps of creating a profile, then begin to scroll through the different sections as Lian gets back to packing. He’s right, there are a lot of different activities that people need a plus-one for. Concerts, weddings, even going to Costco. But there’s one that stops me from scrolling, and I burst into laughter. 

Lian’s head snaps toward me, his eyes widening and mouth dropping open at my sudden outburst. 

“Holy shit!” I manage between laughter. “Listen to this. It says, ‘I need someone to come with me to purchase a burial slot. It’s for me, but no, I’m not sick, I just like to be prepared. Plus, I’m not a big fan of the sun, but can’t decide between a north- or south-facing spot.’”

He presses his lips together to suppress a laugh, amusement glistening in his eyes. “See? There might be something fun on there for you, and you never know who you might meet.”

I wave my phone. “Someone who might talk me into buying the plot of land next to them?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the phone from my grip. He chews on his lip, brows furrowing slightly in concentration. 

“What are you doing?”

“Finding you an activity that won’t stress me out while I’m gone.”

I snort, but I don’t move to get my phone back. I trust Lian with my life, and while I said I’d do this for him, he knows my limits. 

“Okay, what about this one?” He flashes the phone. “He sounds fun.”

I lean forward so I can read the short bio on the screen.

Remington: HELP! I need a date to help protect me from grandmas touching my butt!

I can’t hold back the bubble of laughter. There’s no photo of him, but it says he’s three miles away, twenty-four years old, and his account was created six hours ago. The “plus-one requirement” says it’s a work event, but aside from the amusing yet intriguing bio, there’s nothing else about Remington.

“I love the look on your face right now,” Lian says. He’s grinning widely when I glance back his way. “Please just talk to him. You don’t have to agree to anything you don’t want to do, but I’d feel better about you being with the grandma magnet than viewing a hole in the ground.”

Letting out a long breath, I slump back against the headboard and hold my hand out for my phone. “Fine, give it here.”

He makes an excited noise and taps on my screen before handing it back. 

“Let’s get connected!” flashes on the screen, letting me know Lian has already matched me with Remington. 

Of course he has.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I think of something to say. Nerves wash over me, but I try to stamp it down. One of the reasons I don’t have many friends outside of the non-virtual variety is because I’m often misunderstood. 

I’m quiet because I don’t like people’s attention to be on me. People tend to get the wrong impression because I’m covered in tattoos. And I prefer playing video games to going to a bar.

I guess I’m a bit like a cat: I’m social on my own terms. 

But maybe Lian’s right. Maybe this will be good for me. Hell knows I’d like to meet someone eventually, so maybe this is the gentle nudge I need to finally put myself out there. 

Sucking in a breath, I click on “send a message” and begin to type, and hope I’m not making a huge mistake.

CHAPTER THREE

Bailey: When you say you need protection from grandmas… What kind of protection are we talking about here? Because I dunno how comfortable I am fighting an old lady.

Remington: OMG NO! LOL!

Remington: No violence against the nanas is necessary.

Remington: More like a human shield kind of protection.

Bailey: Well, I’m relieved about that, but it means I’m more confused now.

Bailey: What is it you need protection for exactly?

Remington: So, I have this work thing on Friday, and I need someone to pretend to be my date so then I don’t have to take part in the bachelor auction.

Bailey: … is the bachelor auction at a retirement village?

Remington: LOL NO! <laughing crying emoji>

Remington: That could be funny though.

Remington: It’s at some fancy-ass hotel downtown. But the last few times I’ve had to do it, I always end up getting the rich grandmas bidding on me and they like to touch my butt, Bailey! 

Bailey: Okay… I… don’t know what to say to that?

Bailey: That’s kinda a lot to unpack.

Bailey: Your work auctions you off?

Remington: Yeah, but it’s all, like, controlled. We all go to the same restaurant at the same time.

Bailey: And your employers encourage this? 

Remington: Yeah. All the money goes to charity.

Remington: I try to think of it like I’m doing my part for the elderly, you know? I can’t imagine they get to feel many peachy butts once they hit 70, and having a squeeze of an old person saggy butt can’t be as fun.

Bailey: <wide-eyed face emoji>

Bailey: Why… How… Why?

Bailey: Nope. I’ve got nothing. I’m genuinely speechless.

Remington: You could say you’ll be my date?! 

Remington: Save me from the grandmas, Bailey!

Bailey: I don’t even know what I’d need to do. This is completely new to me.

Bailey: I was under the impression this app was more for finding people, not so much getting involved in… sexual… stuff.

Bailey: Not that there’s anything wrong with that! There’s no judgment from me, I promise.

Remington: Wait, I’m confused?

Remington: I don’t have sex with the grandmas.

Remington: OMG LOL could you imagine!

Bailey: No, I really don’t want to do that.

Bailey: But wait…

Bailey: What do you do for work then?

Remington: I work for a sports team.

Bailey: Oh…

Bailey: OHH. Yeah, I was miles off with my assumption. 

Bailey. Well, now I feel like an ass. I’m sorry.

Remington: Don’t worry, I won’t let the grandmas touch your ass!

Bailey: Thanks, I appreciate it. 

Bailey: Maybe we could meet up first. You know, make sure that us “dating” is plausible.

Remington: Why? Are you an alien?

Bailey: I mean, that’s debatable.

Remington: OMG I knew they were real!

Bailey: Lol <beaming smile emoji>

Bailey: But in all seriousness, we might not be a match. I might not be your “type”.

Bailey: And what if we get asked how we met? We need a whole backstory prepared. 

Remington: OH, I KNOW! Maybe it could be something like you came to earth in search of the best marshmallow in all the land and you landed in my backyard and we had a marshmallow party.

Bailey: <grimacing face emoji>

Bailey: I was thinking more we met in a coffee shop but that could be interesting. It would certainly spice things up.

Bailey: Those grandmas won’t know what they missed out on. 

Remington: :D 

Remington: I can meet tomorrow afternoon? Say like 1? 

Bailey: I can make that work.

Remington: Yes! I’m so excited, Bailey! You’ve saved my ass, literally.

Remington: Gonna make all the grannies jealous!

Bailey: Ha, we’ll see about that.

CHAPTER FOUR

Remington

The bell jingles above me as I open the door, and I’m instantly hit with the smell of food that causes my stomach to grumble.

Damn, I didn’t realize I was so hungry. I’ve come straight from the practice facility to the diner where I’m meeting Bailey, and I’m not going to deny there’s almost been a spring in my step all morning. So springy, I ended up skipping my post-practice snack because I was so eager to get here.

I was starting to get a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to find someone to be my plus-one on H2H. I’ve spoken to more than a dozen people, and it was either they were busy the night of the gala, or they were downright weird. I got asked for photos of my butt a few times too, and one person even asked if I would eat marshmallows from between their toes. 

I’m not one to kink shame, but for me, marshmallows and feet should never be in the same sentence except when saying what not to do. 

But then, just as I was about to give up, Bailey’s name popped up on my phone screen with his funny question about fighting grandmas and trampled all those worries away. He seems like fun. Maybe a little confused at times, but that’s okay because all he needs to be is a human deflector shield. I can handle the rest.

Bailey.

Such a nice name too.

My gaze bounces around the diner. It’s bustling with the lunchtime rush, and I have no idea what Bailey looks like as the app doesn’t have photos. All I know is he’s between twenty-two and thirty-two years old, because that’s the age range I put in. But other than that? I’m clueless.

I’m walking into the unknown with nothing but my fanny pack filled with marshmallows and a whole heap of hope that I might have found myself a plus-one.

As I step further into the diner, a knot of disappointment begins to form in my stomach at the sight of full tables. Maybe he changed his mind and didn’t show up? Or maybe I have the wrong diner. I mean, shit, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve turned up to the wrong place. Whenever there’s a team outing, I have Smitty to make sure I arrive at the right place at the right time. But I waved his offer of accompanying me off, telling him I had it all handled.

At the thought I may have gotten it all wrong, I quickly pull out my phone and check the message thread. Nope. I definitely have the right place, date, and time. 

So, where the hell is he…

Should I call out his name? Like a mating siren. Maybe flap my arms a little and hope he doesn’t decide to hide under the table at the sight of me? Aside from going around table to table asking if they are, or know, Bailey, I don’t know what else to do.

I’m about to open my mouth and call out “Bailey!” when my eyes land on a really cute guy sitting alone in a booth. He’s dressed in all black, and his tattooed hands cradle a mug while he scowls at something out the window. There’s a jolt of awareness that travels up my spine. That must be him, right? He’s the only one sitting alone, and he looks around my age. 

Here’s to hoping…

“Bailey?” I ask as I step up to the table.

He jumps slightly at the sound of my voice, like he was in a deep stare-off daze and I just interrupted it.

His forehead creases as he looks up at me. “Remington?”

“The one and only!” I grin, nodding eagerly. “Hi! Ohmigod, I was worried you might have stood me up. I walked in and was like, wowee, there’s a lot of people in here!”

Shifting my fanny pack around to my side so it doesn’t get caught on the table, I slide into the booth opposite him, and my breath catches when I get a better look at him. Damn, he’s really pretty. His hazel eyes match his chestnut-brown hair that falls in soft waves to his chin. He has a nose ring, and tattoos cover both his arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his black T-shirt, then reappearing at his collar, traveling up his neck and stopping just beneath his jawline. 

But it’s his hands that steal my attention.

“Wow! Look at these!” I grab hold of both his hands, pulling them closer to me for a better look. I’ve always loved tattoos, but I’m too scared to get one myself.

I brush my thumbs over the incredible, intricate artwork on the back of his hands, taking in the symbols and tiny designs over his fingers too. “Wowww! These are so nice!”

When I glance back up at him, he’s watching me with a wary expression. His mouth is tipped up in a lopsided smile, but there’s still a pinch in his brows.

He clears his throat. “Um, thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” I sit back upright, but I don’t let go of his hands. They’re so soft and warm. I wonder if he uses some kind of cream.

He looks from me to our joined hands in the middle of the table, then back to me again. “Is this how we’re going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Have a conversation. Get to know each other, see if we’ll be able to pull off this fake boyfriend stunt.” He lifts one of our linked hands and gives it a slight shake. “While holding hands.”

“Oh!” I reluctantly let go of him, but before I pull my hands back, I give the back of his hands a gentle pat. “They’re really nice, and your hands are so soft. We talk about soft hands in hockey, but it’s not about having actual soft hands, rather than, like, texture. It’s more about having good puck-handling skills and smooth passes.”

“Uh… I…” His nose scrunches up in a cute way. “I have no idea what to say to that?”

I chuckle.

See? He’s easily confused. It’s adorable.

“Do you play hockey?” I ask.

“No. Do you?”

“Yeah, I’m a goalie.”

He’s silent for a few moments, and then his eyes widen, pretty pink lips forming an O.

“You said your job is for a sports team. Are you telling me you’re a professional athlete?”

“Yeah, I am. Why? What did you think I did?”

The tops of his cheeks flush. He takes a quick gulp of his coffee before lowering his voice. “I thought you might be a full spicy worker.”

I stare at him for a beat, not really sure what he’s talking about. A full spicy worker? Like a chef? Or does he mean like a … oh, wait…

“What? Like sex work?”

“Not that that’s a bad thing!” he quickly adds. “Just the way you were saying about your work auctioning you off, and I hadn’t heard of it being a certain… age-related demographic being the main audience, I thought it might be a niche thing.”

I snort out a laugh. Okay, so maybe I should have provided some context, but I was cautious about giving away my identity in case there were some rabid hockey fans on there who would have leaked information. If I had mentioned the gala and my job, it could have been easy to figure out who I am and what team I play for.

But before I can respond and explain a bit more about the foundation and the bachelor auction, the waitress comes over with a pot of coffee. She refills Bailey’s mug, then turns to me. “What can I get you?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?”

“Sure do.”

“I’ll have a hot chocolate, please,” I say, and then my stomach grumbles again. I forgot I was hungry. “Oh, and a veggie omelet, with a side salad. Oh! And some fries. Maybe a grilled cheese too?”

Her eyes twinkle. “Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s all, thanks!” I grin, then turn to Bailey as she walks away. He’s watching me, amusement dancing in his pretty eyes.

“Hungry by any chance?”

“Starving. I didn’t eat before I left practice, and usually, I’m on my second lunch by now.”

“I’m lucky if I have one lunch some days.”

I lean across the table and grab his hand again, giving it a squeeze. “Bailey, you gotta have lunch! Lunch is one of the most important meals of the day, along with breakfast, brunch, twosies, and dinner.”

His smile lights up his entire face. “Twosies?”

“Yeah, you know that post-lunch hunger where you need a little snacky to keep you going until dinner.”

He laughs softly.

Damn, did I mention how pretty he was?

“You’re a lot of fun.”

I beam at the compliment. “Thanks! You’re fun too!”

The waitress returns with my hot chocolate, and I thank her before unzipping my fanny pack and retrieving the Ziploc bag of mini marshmallows. I pick out two, then hold the bag open to Bailey.

“Pick a marshmallow.”

He looks at me with a blank expression, and I give the bag a shake, urging him to pick one.

“Come on! I need a third one.”

Brows furrowing in confusion again, he leans forward slightly and picks out a marshmallow and hands it over, but I don’t accept it right away.

“You’ve gotta name it,” I tell him.

“Name it?”

“Yeah. I like to name my marshmallows. Give them little personalities, you know? Like this one.” I pick one up. “This is Tony. He owns a construction company.”

“And that one?” He points to the other one.

“Ariel. She’s a watercolor artist.”

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. The corner of his mouth twitches, and then he looks at the marshmallow in his hand.

“Roxy, and she’s a tattoo artist,” he says after a beat.

I grin and push my mug across the table. “Plonk ’er in!”

He drops it into my mug, and his shoulders shake with laughter. I throw Tony and Ariel in the mug, too, and give it a little stir.

I love that he indulged in my fun hobby without calling me weird.

Five stars to Bailey.

“So, what made you download the app?” I ask before taking a sip of my drink.

“My best friend made me download it.” He lets out a sigh. “He’s gone on a cruise today for fourteen days, and he’s worried that I won’t leave the house except for work.”

“Why won’t you leave the house?”

“Because I don’t like the outside.”

“Are you agoraphobic?” Panic rises up inside me. I hope he’s not because I will feel like such a dickbag for asking him to meet me here, in such a busy place too.

“No, not at all. I just… How do I say this without sounding weird… I prefer being at home. It’s my safe space. I like gaming and drawing and just being at home.”

I let out a relieved breath. “I can understand that. I’m on the road so much that it can be difficult sometimes because my environment is always changing.”

“I couldn’t think of anything worse than having to travel constantly.”

“It’s not too bad. I’m so used to it now.” I shrug. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m a tattoo artist.”

“Wow! That explains all the cool ink.”

“Yeah.” He laughs, but it trails off. His adorable frown is back, and I want to reach over the table and smooth out the crease between his brows with my thumb. “Are you sure you want me to come with you? I’m not exactly…” He waves his hand. “You know.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Is it black tie?”

“Yeah.”

He grimaces. “I can’t hide my tattoos.”

“Why would I want you to hide your tattoos?”

“Sometimes people make snap judgments based on my appearance.”

Anger bubbles inside of me at the thought of anyone being negative toward Bailey. I might have only known him for less than an hour, but I can tell he’s a good guy. “I’ll fight them with my hockey stick if they do.”

His soft smile hits me right in the gut.

“But I don’t want you to come if you’ll be uncomfortable. I wouldn’t ask that of you,” I say reassuringly.

“You’ve got a good soul, Remington.”

“You can call me Remi. Remington makes me feel like I’ve been a bad boy.”

He snorts, then nods his head a few times. His tongue darts out to lick over his lips, and then he says my name in a whisper, like he’s testing it out. “Remi.”

“Remi and Bailey!” I smack my hand on the table. “So stinkin’ cute!”

He laughs again. That sweet-as-fuck sound that I want to bottle up and put in my fanny pack so I can listen to it all the time.

“So, how did we meet?” he asks.

“In this diner. It was love at first sight over a grilled cheese.”

“And sharing marshmallows.”

I grin.

Yeah, I think we’re gonna crush this fake boyfriend thing.

CHAPTER FIVE

Bailey

There’s a ride share picking me up in ten minutes to take me to the hotel downtown where the gala is being held, and I feel… awkward. It’s like I’m cosplaying as someone who has their shit together. I’m so unrecognizable I’ve given myself a jump scare every time I’ve caught my reflection because I’m not the kind of guy who wears a shirt and tie. I don’t even own a tie or a button-down shirt. I ended up renting this suit as I didn’t want to spend money on something that I am 99.9 percent sure I’ll never wear again. But then I was hit with a wave of guilt because I didn’t want Remi to think I wasn’t putting in the effort to at least look like his plus-one.

What does a plus-one of a professional athlete look like anyway?

Probably nothing like me, that’s for sure.

The main issue is I don’t belong in places where you have to wear a shirt and tie. I wasn’t kidding when I told Remi that people make snap judgments based on how I look. They see the tattoos and the piercings and ignore the fact that I’m just an introvert who likes peace and quiet.

Plus, I’m worried that my being there might put him in an awkward situation. Yeah, he said he’d fight them for me, but this is also his job. His livelihood. He’s not going to want to upset his employers, or hell, the sponsors who probably have more money than I’ll ever have in my lifetime, for a guy he’s known for a few days. 

I wouldn’t want him to do that for me either.

We ended up talking for hours in the diner about anything and everything. He spoke about his job, his wildly hectic schedule that sounds like a nightmare to me, and how he grew up in a small coastal town in New Hampshire before heading off to college. And I told him about how I’m a resident artist at the tattoo studio and showed him some photos of my work. I told him about Lian, and then he proceeded to send him a selfie of him with an adorable wide grin and the message, “Don’t worry! I’m gonna look after your bestie! Have fun cruising! Don’t get too wet!”

Lian’s already smitten with him, but maybe not as much as he’s smitten with Foster. From what he’s been saying, the cruise is going very well.

But it was how Remi texted me this morning to double-check I was still comfortable going tonight that made my heart go all weird and flippy in my chest. Even though he’s only known me for less than seventy-two hours, his level of care is the only thing that’s stopping me from ripping off this tie—which I’m pretty sure is choking me—and bailing out.

I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s so fucking pure and bright. Like he could light up a dark room just with his aura alone. He reminds me of a golden retriever puppy who’s eaten too much sugar, and his thing with the marshmallows? Fucking adorable. You might as well send out my obituary because I’m dead over how fucking cute he is, with his messy, dark hair, kind brown eyes, and magnetic personality.

And I’m certain he was hiding one hell of a body beneath his jeans and hoodie. I bet he will look damn good in his suit because he’s really fucking hot.

Straightening my tie for the hundredth time, I snap a photo in the mirror and send it to Lian. It’s nothing special. Just a simple black button-down shirt and tie, with a black jacket and dress pants. I’ve tried to tame my hair so it looks less of a mop, and I even stole some of Lian’s fancy cologne that his grandma sends him for Christmas.

But despite feeling like a complete fraud, I guess I don’t scrub up half bad. I’m… presentable.

I slip on my black shoes—also rented—and head out to the kitchen so I can watch for when the car pulls up. Luckily, I don’t have to wait for long, and Lian’s response comes through when I’m almost at the hotel.

Lian:

You look so great! Stop fussing. I still can’t believe you’re going on a date with a hot hockey player!

Bailey:

It’s not a real date.

Lian:

Semantics! It’s a date and you look hot! And he’s hot!

Lian:

Have fun!

Bailey:

That was a lot of exclamation marks.

Lian:

Oh, shut up! I’m excited for you!

Lian:

Oh, and Bailey?

Bailey:

Yeah?

Lian:

I’m proud of you for doing this <heart emoji>

I roll my eyes at Lian’s message, fighting the smile off my face before locking down my phone and slipping it into the pocket of my pants.

When the car pulls up outside the hotel, Remi is waiting outside under the canopy. He’s dressed in a teal-colored suit, and the way his entire face lights up with his bright smile the second he sees me has my heart doing the same funny things in my chest it was doing this morning.

How can someone be so fucking warm and good? 

And why is my heart kicking like a kangaroo in my chest? What is that all about?

“Bailey! Hi! Ohmigod, you look amazing!” His words rush out a mile a minute, and he engulfs me in a tight embrace when I reach him.

I’m startled briefly by the unexpected hug, taking a few seconds before I wrap my arms around him. His rosewood and cardamom scent fills my nose, and I take a deep inhale.

He steps back and holds his hand out to me. I accept it, biting on the inside of my cheek to stop my face from morphing into a grin when he interlocks our fingers and leads me inside.

This guy is something else.

“Did you have a good day at work? Did you eat lunch today?” he asks, his concern warming my chest.

“Yes, I did have lunch,” I chuckle. “And it was a good day.”

“Did you take any photos of your work?”

“Yeah, do you wanna see?”

He practically beams at my offer. “Yeah, of course I do! Show me!”

I pull my phone from my pocket while he presses the elevator call button. He steps in closer, our hands still clasped together, and I shiver at his breath coasting against my ear as I show him the pieces I did today. His high praise and excited sounds of approval fill me with something I haven’t experienced before. 

Is this what a dog feels like when they’re told they’re a good boy?

I have people complimenting my work all the time in the studio and on my social media pages, but there’s something about Remi’s genuine enthusiasm that feels… exceptional.

He’s the complete opposite of me. I’m the dark storm cloud, grumpy and filled with rain, whereas he’s the high sun at noon, shining his intense sunlight on everyone around him.

When we step out of the elevator, we’re greeted by waiters holding trays of champagne and seltzers.

“Oooh, thank you, kindest sir,” Remi says gleefully, picking up a dainty glass of champagne and sticking out his pinky finger when he takes a sip. He pulls a soured expression for the briefest moment before forcing a smile once he’s swallowed. “Mm! Delicious!”

I snort under my breath and take one of the seltzers.

“You don’t have to pretend to drink it if you don’t like it. I won’t judge you.”

“Ugh, it tastes so gross. I don’t know why people like drinking it? It gets all up in my nose and ughhh!” He pulls another face, and I can’t help but laugh.

“I can agree with you there.”

Champagne makes me want to barf, but I’m not going to admit that in a place like this.

With my hand still in Remi’s, he leads us toward the main conference room, where the gala will be held. Dark silk sheets and fairy lights are draped on the ceiling, making the ceiling look like a clear night sky, and there are navy blue and silver balloon displays scattered throughout the room—which I now recognize as the team’s colors, thanks to my quick internet search last night.

I glance around the room. Everyone is dressed to impress. High-end tuxedos and fancy dresses. They all look like they fit in here. They don’t look out of place, and a knot of discomfort settles in my stomach.

Am I going to stand out as someone who doesn’t fit in?

“Are you okay?” Remi asks, appearing in front of me suddenly. He’s standing so close the rest of the room is blocked from my vision. There’s a flicker of worry on his handsome face, and I hate myself for putting it there.

“If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to stay. We could…” He looks over his shoulder, almost like he’s looking for another way to escape, even though the door is right behind us. “We could run away. Or we can fill our plates with food, then sit under the table. They won’t find us. Or⁠—”

The wave of nerves dissipates as I laugh, interrupting him. I give his hand a squeeze, then take a deep, steadying breath.

“It’s okay. It’s just… different. I’ve never been to places like this, and even when I’ve been to higher-end restaurants, the looks I get like I don’t belong there make it an unpleasant experience for me.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I raise my free hand, pressing one finger to his lips.

“But I said I’d be your plus-one, Remi. I just need a minute to… get my head around it all, but I want to be here with you. Let me protect you from the grandmas.”

“Yeah?” His stunning brown eyes sparkle, creasing at the sides as he gives a wide, goofy grin.

Any discomfort I experience tonight will be all worth it for this man, especially if he keeps looking at me like this. People don’t look at me in this way. Like I’ve hung the moon or some other wonderful shit.

But with Remi?

I like it. And it worries me at just how much.

CHAPTER SIX

Remington

With a tight grip on Bailey’s hand, I weave us through the crowd of people toward the bar situated on the edge of the room. I ignore each one of my teammates waving at me, trying to get my attention. They will no doubt try to embarrass me in front of Bailey, so they can wait. When we reach the bar, I slap my free hand against the countertop and flash the brightest smile I can muster at the bartender.

“Hello there, kind sir! I need a good beer, like, yesterday.” I quickly turn to Bailey, checking he’s okay with my drink of choice. When he nods, I hold up two fingers and add, “Make it two, thanking you!”

The bartender chuckles and turns to fetch two beers from the fridge. He slides them over the bar top, and I finally let go of Bailey’s hand to pay. After, I pick up the cold bottles and hand one over to him.

“Kind sir?” He snickers under his breath. “Did we teleport to the nineteenth century or something?”

I swallow a swig of beer and grin. “I dunno, but it sounds right for these kinds of places, don’t you think? Like, they remind me of George Darling from Peter Pan. It’s all very… pompous.” I bring my beer to my lips and stick my pinky out as I take a small sip. “Mhm, what a splendid alcoholic beverage. It moistens my palate wonderfully.”

Bailey splutters, and some of his beer dribbles down his chin, but then he starts coughing. He covers his mouth with his hand, and his cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. Worried, I reach around and slap his back.

“Ohmigod! Don’t die on me, Bailey! What will I do if you kick it before warding off the senior citizens of Seattle?”

He chokes out another laugh, which only causes him to cough more.

“This tushy isn’t gonna protect itself!” I shriek.

He waves me off, his face red and eyes glistening with tears.

Oh, yikes. I run a panicked hand through my hair and wave down the bartender again.

“Barkeep! A glass of your finest still water. Super cold!”

“Remi,” Bailey says between coughs. His voice has gone all raspy and sexy.

When I turn back to face him, he’s wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm, but there’s a wide smile on his face as his shoulders tremble with silent laughter. “You are amazing, you know that?”

I sag as relief washes through me. “You’re not dying on me?”

“No, I’m not dying. I just…” He shakes his head slightly. His eyes shine with such fondness I can feel it like a physical thing in my chest. “I know we barely know each other, but I think you’re fucking incredible, so don’t ever change, okay?”

A lump forms in the back of my throat, but I swallow it down. I don’t think Bailey truly understands what his words mean to me.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been told I’m too much. Too loud. Too childish. Too aloof. Too unserious. That I need to change myself to fit in with other people’s expectations, or what society considers “normal.”

That me just trying to find the joyous things in life, no matter how big or small, and having fun while I’m at it, is weird.

So to have someone who has only known me for less than a week look at me with such awe? And to have them tell me to never change and that I’m incredible just the way I am?

It’s everything.

Feeling all up in my feels, I place my beer down onto the bar top next to the glass of water that’s appeared and wrap my arms around Bailey. His grunt in my ear only makes me squeeze him tighter, and when he wraps his arms around me, I melt like a marshmallow.

He’s a few inches shorter than me. Smaller in build too. But our bodies just… fit. My arms wrap perfectly around his body, and he feels good beneath my hands. My face slots into the crook of his neck, like it’s always meant to be there. I revel in his palms smoothing up my back, and the sensation makes me never want to let him go.

Sooo, what if I didn’t?

Who’s to say that we can’t see each other after tonight? Maybe we could hang out again, or I could ask him on a date? I haven’t been on a date in a long time because it’s hard to date during the season, but I’d try for Bailey. There’s this pull between us, and I want to explore it.

Only if he does too.

The goal for tonight was to get out of doing the bachelor auction, but now there’s a new goal.

Show Bailey that I’m fun and irresistible, and then we can have more cute moments like this after tonight. And maybe some sexy fun moments too.

But our current little cute moment ends abruptly, thanks to Smitty.

“Remington McRae! You sneaky bastard! Did you really think you could sneak in here and not introduce us to your beau?”

Reluctantly, I let go of Bailey and aim a glare Smitty’s way. “Maybe I was just avoiding you.”

“You wouldn’t!” He gasps and clutches his chest, but he soon drops the playful act and holds his hand out to Bailey. “Hey, you must be Bailey. I’m Smitty, this one’s teammate and roomie.” He smiles, hooking his thumb toward me.

“And bestie,” I add, because it’s an important fact.

“Nice to meet you,” Bailey says, shaking Smitty’s hand. His posture has turned a little rigid again, but I hope it’s more out of nerves than a dislike for Smitty.

“Remi hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met the other day.”

It’s my turn to gasp now. The traitor! “Smitty! What did we say about not embarrassing me?”

“How is it embarrassing? I thought it was kinda cute.” He turns back to Bailey. “He even named a marshmallow after you, but it didn’t go in his drink.”

“So where did it go?” Bailey asks with a hint of amusement.

“It’s on a plate underneath a glass to ‘preserve it.’” Smitty snickers, using his fingers to air quote.

Bailey laughs, and the stiff line of his shoulders softens as his eyes meet mine. He has these cute little creases at the corners of his eyes when he smiles. They’re so subtle, almost like they don’t happen very often, and I want to be able to make him smile all the damn time. And the sneak peeks of his neck tattoos out of the collar of his shirt and those covering his hands are like naughty treats, tempting me to unwrap him to see what the rest of them look like.

It’s true I haven’t been able to stop talking about him or thinking about him. But how could I not? He’s so fucking gorgeous.

Someone announces it’s time to take our seats as dinner is about to be served. We talk non-stop throughout dinner, only stopping for the speeches and presentations.

I giggle quietly when the bachelor auction happens, hooting when my teammates come on stage. I’m so grateful that it isn’t me up there this year. But when the music starts and the dance floor opens up, I’m up on my feet.

“Dance with me!”

“Uhhh…” He blanches. “I’m not much of a dancer, but I’ll come watch you?”

Grinning, I hold my hand out to him. I’m not gonna force him to do something he’s not comfortable doing because that would be a dick move.

I lead him to the dance floor, finding an empty chair my teammate Mikey has vacated so he can sit and watch. The band covers a Harry Styles song, and I keep my eyes fixed on Bailey as I lose myself in the beat. I’m rewarded with his shy smile.

Damn, he’s so wonderful.

I’m lost in my head, daydreaming about taking Bailey on dates and what it would be like to kiss him, when a hand lands on my upper arm. I flinch slightly, the touch unexpected, and as I turn, I see Simone standing there. One of the ladies with the wayward hands.

“Ah, Remington, it’s such a shame you weren’t included in the bachelor auction this year.” She gives my bicep a squeeze. “Such a shame.”

“Hm, yeah,” I say awkwardly. “Well, you see, I got a boyfriend, and he wouldn’t be too happy if I auctioned myself off when we get limited time together during the season as it is.” I point to Bailey. “That’s him. He’s so pretty.”

She barely gives Bailey a glance, and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes when she mutters, “Hmph, I see.”

Did this lady really think she had a shot with me? I think she’s older than my grandma.

I take a step back, feeling a little uncomfortable with the deepening crease between her brow, when I end up bumping into someone. I glance over my shoulder, an apology on the tip of my tongue, when I see Bailey standing there.

“I’m all rested now, baby. Shall we dance?” He wraps his arm around my waist tightly, almost possessively.

Is he… is he staking his claim on me?

Why is it so hot?

Simone drops her hand from my arm and sniffs. “Very well. Enjoy your evening, Remington.”

I’m aware of her walking away, but I haven’t taken my eyes off Bailey. He’s watching her with a menacing look in his eyes, and my cock gives an appreciative twitch.

Yep, I’m totally hot for this possessive side.

“Baby?” I grin. “You called me baby.”

He tries to scowl, but the corners of his mouth betray him. “I had to act the part, and if we were boyfriends…” He shrugs. “I think I’d call you baby.”

“You look cute when you scowl.” I grin. “Baby.”

“I’m not cute,” he grumbles.

I loop my arms around his shoulders and begin to sway us to the beat. His hands tighten on my hips, the move bringing us closer until our chests are touching.

“You’re so cute. And—” I lower my voice when the deejay switches it up to a slower song. “—very hot.”

He ducks his head slightly, almost embarrassed. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, and my eyes drop to his mouth. I want to kiss him. I want to tell him that I feel this bizarre pull between us that’s so strong, I don’t think I can ignore it.

But I also don’t want to break this moment. Especially when he lifts his head and I lose myself in those hazel eyes for the rest of the night.

The car pulls up outside Bailey’s house, and I ask the driver to wait for me while I walk Bailey to his door.

“Thanks for a fun night. I had a great time,” he says with a soft smile.

“It was so much fun! Thanks for coming with me and being my pretend boyfriend.” I lean in closer and lower my voice, even though there’s nobody around. “We really showed those grandmas, eh?”

I wiggle my brows, and he huffs out a laugh under his breath, ducking his head for a moment before lifting it up again. This time, his eyes are filled with affection, and it’s taking everything in me not to lean in and kiss him.

Instead, I blurt out, “Can I see you again? Like take you on a real date? We could get tacos or those mini pancakes!”

Those creases I love so much appear around his eyes as his mouth tips into a smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

I internally fist pump. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I…” He shakes his head, almost like he’s in disbelief with whatever he’s thinking. “When Lian told me to match with you, I didn’t expect any of this. I don’t feel this comfortable around people easily, but there’s something about you, Remi… You make me want to be brave. You make me feel alive, and I’m so damn attracted to you, it kinda scares me.”

All the worries I was feeling earlier melt away, replaced with a sense of excitement buzzing in my veins.

I’m practically bouncing on my toes when I ask, “Can I kiss you?”

He takes a step closer, curving his hand around my neck. “I think I might die if you don’t,” he whispers.

I suck in a breath. Placing both hands on his hips, I close the distance and press my lips to his. It’s like mini fireworks are set off around us. Tingles rush down my spine to my toes as our tongues brush. I can feel his smile against my lips when I let out a small whimper.

But once again, our moment gets interrupted when a car horn blasts, and I jolt off the ground, startled.

“You better go before he drives off without you,” Bailey says, so quietly I would’ve missed it if my eyes weren’t fixated on him.

“Mhm, okay. I suppose.” I kiss him again quickly, then jog down the few steps. When I reach the car, I turn back to face him where he’s still standing by the door.

“You’re hot!” I shout, not able to help myself. Because he is hot.

He laughs. “You’re hot too!”

I make a heart with my hands before sliding into the back of the car.

And my damn face aches from how hard I’m smiling.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Bailey

The week following the after-gala kiss passes by in a blur. I’ve been working through a stacked schedule at the studio, and Remi is back to his hockey duties. He left for a road trip a few days ago, but you wouldn’t think he’s nearly three thousand miles away because we’ve been talking nonstop, from texts to FaceTime calls.

Whenever I’ve not been tattooing or drawing designs for upcoming appointments and he hasn’t been on the ice, I’ve been glued to my phone like some lovesick teenager with their first crush.

It’s been ten days since Remi bamboozled his way into my life, and I don’t think I can remember what it was like without him in it. I should be embarrassed about how easily I’m falling for him. His fun-loving charm, his excitable personality. His big, strong body that felt so good underneath my palms when there were mere inches between us the last time I saw him. The memory of our kiss has played on an endless loop in my brain, and with him coming home today, I’m hoping I’ll get to relive it again in real time tonight.

And while I’m not embarrassed in the slightest, I may be just a teeny tiny bit scared of my feelings.

I’m finishing up on the final details on the geometric-style piece I’ve been working on when my colleague and fellow tattoo artist Stormi pokes her head through the archway that separates the main studio from the front of house area.

“Baileyyyy!” she sings, waving one hand in a flourish. “There’s someone here to see youuuu!” Then she lowers her voice, a devilish glint sparkles in her eye as she says, “And can I just say… he’s fucking gorgeous!”

My heart stutters. I knew he was getting back from Raleigh in the early hours of the morning, but I wasn’t expecting to see him until tonight.

Before I can tell her to send him through because I’m just wrapping up, he appears behind her like a vibrant bundle of energy. He’s holding a paper bag and coffee cup from the cafe around the corner in one hand, and he’s wearing the brightest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Bailey! I’m back! Did you miss me? Of course you did. I’m a missable guy.”

I snort a laugh, unable to deny any of it because yeah, I did miss him.

Not wanting to think too much into how I can miss someone I’ve known less than two weeks, I greet him with a soft smile. “Hey, Remi. Glad to have you back.”

He practically bounces over to me, greeting my client with the same exuberance he applies to everything in life, then gasps when he notices the tattoo I’m giving a final wipe over.

“Ohmigod! Look at that!” He peers over to look at the piece on my client’s bicep. “That’s so amazing! Isn’t he talented? He’s so talented. And pretty.”

He turns to me and reaches over to tuck some hair that’s fallen into my face behind my ear. Another beaming smile appears on his face. “So pretty.”

Heat travels up my neck at his earnest tone, and I’m sure my cheeks have turned the color of a ripe tomato.

Stormi lets out an excited squeal. “I can’t fucking cope with this. Someone take a photo. Bailey is blushing. Blushing!”

My smile tips downward into a scowl. Lifting one hand, I give her the middle finger and mouth, “Fuck you.”

She places her palm over her heart. “Such a charmer.”

Ignoring her teasing, Remi watches as my client checks out their new piece in the mirror. After, I take photos and wrap it, then go through the aftercare instructions and sort out payment. Once they leave, Remi places the paper bag and coffee on the small table in the small lounge area and engulfs me in a tight, warm hug.

“Hi,” I squeak, wrapping my arms around his solid torso.

“Hey.” He gives me a squeeze before releasing me, then motions for me to sit down. “I brought you some lunch because I know sometimes you don’t get to eat, and you’ve gotta eat, Bailey!” He pierces me with a stern look that I didn’t know was possible on him. “Do you have time to eat with me?”

I open my mouth to say I have forty minutes until my next client, but Stormi appears so suddenly I jump in my seat.

“He does have time!” She places her hands on his wide shoulders. “Can we get you anything, Remi?”

He peers up at her with a wide grin. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Their attention lands on me, and my face instantly flames. 

I narrow my eyes as Stormi gives his shoulders a squeeze, willing her to remove her hands before I remove them for her. She must sense my annoyance because she lets out a high-pitched “Aw!” before skipping back around the counter.

Remi fills me in on his away games while I tuck into the panini he bought me, all while he demolishes a large pasta salad and his own panini. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much he eats.

“I watched your games, but I’ll admit, I had no idea what was going on.”

“You did? That’s so—” He stops abruptly and gasps before clapping his hands together so loud it startles me. “Ohmigod, you should come to my next home game! It’ll be so much fun! I get comp seats. Ohmigod! You could bring Lian!” His voice gradually gets louder the more excited he gets, and I’m unable to hide my amusement. I press my lips together, trying to hold back my laughter. This guy is so fucking precious.

“I mean, only if you want to? You’ve already done things for me that weren’t for you, and I understand if⁠—”

I laugh softly under my breath at his nervous ramble. “That sounds like fun. Let me know when it is, and I’ll check with Lian if he’s free.”

He fist pumps and finishes the last of his pasta salad. “Am I still coming over tonight?”

“If you want to.”

Please say yes.

“Obviously!” He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling like I’ve just said something cute. “What time shall I come over?”

“Maybe like five?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Okay. I’ll be waiting!” He spins around to face the rest of the studio. “Bye, everyone! May your day be blessed with cool tattoos and Bailey’s cute face!”

Then, he cups my face with his hands and kisses me. My eyes fall closed. Every nerve ending instantly lights up, and I practically melt into him. I walk him to the door, promising to see him later.

When I turn around, I’m greeted by my colleagues’ amused expressions, and my face heats again.

“Okay, I love him,” Stormi says the second the door closes behind him.

“You better marry him, or I will,” Trevor threatens. 

“He’s like a precious puppy,” Reggie coos, and their client nods in agreement. “So cute.”

“I hate you all,” I grumble, but I’m unable to wipe the smile from my face.

With Lian still on his cruise, Remi and I have taken over the living room. There are discarded takeout boxes scattered across the coffee table, and I’ve hooked up my second monitor so we can game together. Something we spoke about doing while he was away.

“Ooooh, look over here!” Remi crows, and then his character dashes out of view on my monitor. “It’s so nice!”

I quickly glance over to the TV, where his character is running off the safe path. “Uhh, I wouldn’t go over there if I were—” but my warning falls flat when he shrieks in terror.

“AHHHH!”

His character begins to run away, a horde of zombies following him. “Oh my god! AHH! I’m gonna die! Bailey! Save me! AAHHH!”

Snickering, my character runs in his direction, and I start taking down the zombies. I end up chasing him around the map as he tries to outrun them, only he ends up gaining more because he runs into the gathering hordes in the outer fields quicker than I can kill them.

“Remi, you need to stop running,” I say, chuckling.

A terrified “AHHHH!” is the response I get.

“Remi!” I choke out a laugh. “You need to help, otherwise I’m gonna run out of ammo, then we’ll both die.”

He presses all the buttons on his controller in no clear order. At one point, he swaps his gun for a medical kit and starts hitting the zombies with it.

My stomach aches from laughing. I can’t find it in me to be mad because he’s genuinely trying his best, and he’s so fucking adorable. 

By the time we—or I should say, I—have taken all the zombies down, tears are streaming down my face. He lets out a heavy sigh of relief and flops back into the couch cushions.

“Wow, that was close. I nearly died,” he says, exasperated.

I wipe my face with the sleeve of my T-shirt and give him a pointed look. “You’re welcome.”

He grins, then tosses the controller onto the coffee table and launches himself at me. For the tenth time today, I’m engulfed in his strong arms, blanketed by his warmth. He smells so fucking good that I can’t stop from taking a deep inhale.

“Did you just sniff me?” he mumbles into my neck.

“Maybe.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then he chuckles without loosening his hold on me. “I’ll let you smell me because you saved me.”

“Gee, thanks. Best reward I’ve ever received,” I deadpan.

He lifts his head, but we’re still so close, our noses almost touch. “If we were in a real zombie invasion, would you save me?”

“Yeah, of course I would.”

Clearly, that was the right answer because he beams at me. “I would save you too.”

“Yikes. That doesn’t fill me with much hope of survival,” I groan playfully.

“Hey! I would fight them with my hockey stick. And my skates!” 

“Mhm.”

“We would have to stick really close together. Share food.”

He wiggles his arms beneath my shoulders, curling around me until his fingers find the nape of my neck. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and now we’re so close, I can feel his heart beating against my own chest. His fingertips trace a featherlight line down my nape, and pleasure shivers down my spine to my groin.

Fully aware that his cock is currently pressed against mine, I drop my voice and rasp, “Share body warmth.”

His eyes turn dark and hooded.

“Naked body warmth,” he whispers, and then his lips are closing over mine. 

A low moan rumbles in my throat as my tongue brushes his. He grinds against me, a slow, rhythmic shift of his hips, and my cock thickens beneath my zipper.

He must feel the evidence of the effect he has on me because he lets out a satisfied hum and rolls his hips a little rougher. He swallows down my moan, then ducks his head to nibble my neck.

I let out a small gasp, arching up into him.

“Should I be worried we’ve gone from talking about surviving a zombie invasion to humping each other on the couch?”

“Gotta save the planet,” he murmurs.

I snort. “By humping?”

“Humping saves lives.” He lifts his head, nipping my jaw and the corner of my lip. He runs a hand between us and squeezes my hard cock, eliciting a deep moan from me. “I wanna taste you, Bailey. Can I taste you? I bet you have a pretty cock.”

Fucking hell. I’ll be lucky if I don’t blow my load the second he pulls me from my boxers.

“You can do anything you want to me.”

A wicked grin spreads across his face, and I know in that moment that the fall from the high that is Remington McRae is going to hurt, but it’ll be so worth it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Remington

I follow Bailey down the hallway to his room. He flicks on a small lamp that sits on his bedside table, basking the room in a low, warm light. When he turns to face me, his eyes, filled with heat, dance from my face down my body, stopping at my hard cock, which I’m pretty sure is trying to punch a hole through my denim.

I want him so bad I’m practically shaking.

Closing the gap between us, I place my hands on his hips and slide my mouth over his again. Within an instant, he’s moaning and melting into my touch. My fingers slip beneath the hem of his T-shirt, loving the feel of his soft, warm skin as I inch up his T-shirt while I suck on his tongue.

We separate for the briefest moment so I can pull it over his head and toss the fabric aside, and then our mouths are colliding again.

Bailey stumbles as he tries to kick off his jeans without tearing our lips apart, cursing under his breath when they get caught on his foot.

I chuckle softly under my breath, keeping him steady with my hands. My body feels like a live wire, buzzing with anticipation, charged with a desperate need to get even closer to Bailey.

I make quick work taking off my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and when I look back at Bailey, his eyes are wide in surprise.

“Wow,” he breathes out. His hand coasts down my chest to my abdomen, my muscles rippling beneath his touch, and then my cock bucks, desperate for his attention. “Your body is…” He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “Fucking incredible, Remi.”

I poke my tongue into my cheek, smirking at the desire in his gaze.

I hold my hands out to the side. “You like?”

“Do I like?” He puffs out a breath. “Fuck, Remi… I think my mind and my dick might combust over how fucking hot you are.” 

Grinning, I lean down and tug his lower lip between my teeth before whispering, “Get on the bed.”

Bailey lets out a low groan and crawls onto the bed, nestling back against his pillows, giving me the most perfect view. His long, lean body is covered in tattoos. There are only a few inches of skin untouched between his hips and pubic area; the rest of his skin is a mix of full-color artwork and black-and-gray pieces.

“One day, I want to examine every single tattoo on your body,” I tell him as I climb on the bed to lie between his legs. “But right now, I’m too damn hungry to get your cock into my mouth that I won’t be able to fully appreciate the art on your skin until your come is down my throat.”

He lets out a sharp gasp. “Fucking hell.”

I smooth my hands up his thighs, and he trembles under my palms. I grip the base of his dick and wrap my lips around the tip. I suck gently, and he writhes beneath me. One hand grips the sheet while the other reaches for my head, his fingers threading through my hair.

I trail my lips down to the base, nuzzling his tight sac with my nose and taking a deep inhale.

“Mmm, your cock is as beautiful as I imagined it to be,” I murmur, sucking one of his balls into my mouth before releasing it with a pop. “You taste so good. I bet your come tastes really sweet too.”

“Fuck, Remi,” he moans.

“What?”

“Your mouth. Sometimes you say the most adorable things, but then you come out with things like that. You’re gonna kill me.”

I take his leaking tip into my mouth once again, groaning at the taste of his precome bursting on my tongue. He tastes so good.

I’m grinding against the mattress, seeking friction for my own throbbing cock. He’s all sharp gasps and deep moans as I take him to the back of my throat, my name a sweet hymn on his lips as I swallow around his thick shaft.

His fingers tighten in my hair as his thigh muscles tense. Sweat coats his skin, glistening under the low lighting.

“Remi, I… Ahhhh, fuck! I’m gonna come.”

Opening my eyes so I can watch him unravel, I suck harder. He throbs against my tongue, and moments later, I’m rewarded with his come landing on my tongue. I swallow down every drop, sucking him through every pulse.

The sight of him, heightened in pleasure, and the soft feel of his sheets rubbing against my overly sensitive cock is enough to tip me over the edge. His spent dick falls from my mouth as I come, his name a husky moan off my lips.

With shaky limbs, I climb up beside him as he slumps back against the bed, chest rising and falling in quick succession as he tries to regain his breath. His legs remain spread, and the pool of my come gleams in the low light against his dark sheets.

“Fucking hell,” he pants. “I think you sucked my brain out through my dick.”

I chuckle, pressing my face against his sweaty neck. “Your brain is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He laughs, a sound that makes me feel like a champion every time I hear it. He wraps his arms around me, fingers tracing idly against my bare shoulder.

“We’re doing this all backwards,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it.

I lift my head, resting it against the pillow so I can look at him. “No, we’re not. We’re doing what’s right for us.”

He hums, like maybe he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. I want to squeeze him and tell him that I’m not going anywhere. That I’ve never felt like this about someone before. So strong and magnetizing.

I want to tell him I’m falling for him, but I also don’t want to scare him off.

Bailey is like a wild animal. A little skittish, always on guard, ready with the defense.

But lucky for him, I’m patient, and I’ll wait for however long it takes to prove to him I’m safe, and I’ll protect his heart with everything I have.

CHAPTER NINE

Bailey

Lian gasps loudly, his eyes popping comically wide. He points at the ice where Remi is warming up, his other hand is gripping my forearm so tight I’m slightly worried he’s going to leave a bruise. “Oh my god, he’s doing the splits!”

I snicker. “He’s stretching.”

He swings his head toward me, mouth dropping open. “He’s doing the splits, Bailey. The splits! He looks like he doesn’t even break a sweat. In all those bulky clothes too.” He whips around to look at Foster, who is sitting on the other side of him. “Did you see that?”

Foster’s face is bright with a mix of amusement and adoration as he nods. “Yeah, I saw it.”

“Wow,” Lian says on a breath, falling back into his seat and finally releasing my arm. I run my hand over it and sigh. Yeah, definitely going to leave a bruise. “It must be amazing to be that flexible. Imagine all the sex pos⁠—”

I quickly slap my palm over his mouth, cutting off his words before he can finish. “No, we’re not imagining anything like that.”

Because if I do, I’ll get all boned up and embarrass myself. Remi and I have exchanged multiple blow jobs since that first time, but just the simple thought of Remi naked, or his cock, or his fucking incredibly sculpted ass, has me chubbing up in an instant.

And that’s something I do not want to be doing in his place of work.

“M’kay.” Lian smirks against my hand, clearly reading my mind.

I roll my eyes, dropping my hand to my lap.

We’re sitting in the seats Remi snagged for us, around seven rows behind the goal, where he’ll be in front of the net. We had to wait to find a date that worked for everyone and to make sure Remi would be starting. But Remi’s excitement for me coming to watch his game has made me fall for him even more.

We haven’t had the conversation about what we are or putting a label on it. Everything up to this point has been a whirlwind in the best possible way, but I think it will settle something in my mind if I know that Remi isn’t going to get bored of me and he’s in this just as much as I am.

This is also the first night Lian and I have spent together since he came back from his cruise. It’s kind of wild to think that if it wasn’t for him getting dumped by his asshole of an ex, neither of us would have met Remi and Foster. Now, here we are, with two incredible guys in our lives, all thanks to taking a chance on H2H.

And all I need to do now is actually make Remi mine.

Remi skates in front of the net and gets into a crouching position. His teammates begin firing pucks at him, and Lian throws his arms up as he cheers, forgetting the drink in his hand. Before I can tell him to be careful, the liquid sloshes over the side. I watch wide-eyed as Foster is quick to jump up, managing to avoid getting soaked while, at the same time, stopping Lian from falling over in his haste to stop the spillage.

“Caught you,” Foster says quietly, a gentle smile on his face.

Behind them, I bite back my own smile. I might have been wary of Foster in the beginning, but it’s so nice that Lian has finally found someone who looks out for him and actually treats him well.

Remi disappears off the ice at the end of warm-up, and the Zamboni comes out to resurface. After we all stand for the national anthem, I’m unable to tear my eyes off Remi as he scuffs up the ice in front of the net, tapping the goalposts with his stick and going through some kind of ritual where he squats, edges back on his skates until he’s inside the goal, then comes out again before repeating it two more times.

When the game starts, I’m on the edge of my seat the entire time. Whenever the opposing team gets close to Remi, my body turns tense, neck and shoulders rigid. I’m cursing under my breath, willing for them to get the fuck away from him.

Have they never heard the concept of personal space?

Luckily, Remi is fucking magical. He twists and turns and throws his body around in a way that looks so effortless. He manages to stop the other team from scoring every time, but when one slips past his glove side, I feel so devastated for him. Sure, his team is up by three, and there are only two minutes left in the third period, but he had gone all this time without letting one in.

Lian lets out a loud “aww!” when they show Remi on the jumbotron. He’s lifted his helmet up to rest on the top of his head. His cheeks are flushed pink, similarly to how flushed he gets while we’re having sex, and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop my eager brain from going to a dirty place.

He squirts some water in his mouth, a rare, serious expression lining his brows. His bottom lip is pursed in a slight pout, and I want to go down there and kiss that pout right off his face.

Is it weird to think his serious face is super hot?

The final two minutes are action-packed. The opposition isn’t giving up, but each attempt is futile. Remi denies every shot they take on goal, and by the time the buzzer sounds, his team gets the win.

I’m oblivious when it comes to hockey, or any kind of sport, really, but I can appreciate how exciting the game is and how much work Remi has to put in every single day to be on top of his game.

We take our time heading to the family area, where Remi said he’ll meet us, knowing he won’t be out right away. My gut is in knots with nerves as we wait.

What if Lian doesn’t like him? Or he doesn’t like Lian?

No, that wouldn’t happen. Remi seems to like everyone.

Stop overthinking it.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair when I hear Remi call out my name.

“Bailey!” He waves before rushing over to me. “Hi,” he whispers.

He gives me a bright smile, then wraps his arms around me in a tight hug.

Looping my arms around his broad shoulders, I press my face into his neck and close my eyes.

He kisses the side of my head and speaks so quietly I almost miss it. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah,” I murmur, lifting my head to look at him. “You were fucking fire out there. I had no idea what to expect, and it’s so different seeing it in person than seeing it on TV. I just…” Cupping his jaw with my hand, I stroke my thumb across his lower lip. “You are mesmerizing. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. “

He rewards me with one of his bright smiles. The kind that lights up his eyes and my soul.

Even in the short time I’ve known him, this man has the power to destroy me.

Someone clears their throat behind us, and I’m reminded that Lian and Foster are still here, waiting for me to introduce them to Remi.

I take a step back, dropping my hands to my sides and clearing my throat. “Remi, this is my roommate, Lian, and his boyfriend, Foster.”

“Lian! Hi! Ohmigod it’s so great to meet you.” Remi thrusts his arms out wide. “Do you do hugs?”

This man. I had no chance of not falling for him.

“Only for hellos, goodbyes, and just about everything in between,” Lian says exuberantly, already stepping forward.

I cover my mouth with my fingers, trying to hide my smile as my two favorite people hug it out. He also hugs Foster, then bounces back to my side, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers together.

“Ready?” he asks with a beaming smile.

I nod. “You bet.”

But I’m not just referring to heading home. I’m ready to jump in with both feet. I can’t ignore how strong my feelings are for him, and I’m ready to take the leap I’ve been afraid of for so long and push my fear aside.

Remington McRae III is worth the risk.

CHAPTER TEN

Remington

Not even ten minutes have gone from getting back to Bailey’s house to being naked on his bed. We’re making out, hot and heavy. My knees are on either side of his hips, and I’m grinding against the underside of his hard cock.

“Mhm, fuck,” he moans into my mouth, fingers digging into my ass cheeks.

Having him at my game tonight meant everything. I’ve never had a partner watch me play. For years, I’d see my teammates meet up with their partners in the family room after the game and wondered what it felt like. Celebrating together after a win, commiserating together after a loss. It was always a fantasy of mine, knowing someone was waiting for me.

Then seeing Bailey standing there, waiting for me, my heart swelled in my chest, and I knew right there in that moment that I didn’t want to wait any longer to ask him to be my boyfriend.

Smitty called me cheesy the other day, but I like to think I’m sweet. Like a marshmallow. With arms and legs and a head. Just less scary.

Bailey’s hands smooth over my skin, his fingers dipping in my crease, and I know the moment he finds the plug I slipped in before I left the arena because he stills. He pulls away, his lips all swollen and pink, and looks up at me in surprise.

“Did you put this in while you were in the locker room?”

“Well, not in the middle of the locker room,” I snort. “But I went into one of the stalls in the bathroom and sneakily put it in.”

He gives the plug a slight tug, and a shiver tracks down my spine.

“I want you to fuck me, Bailey,” I confess, lowering myself until we’re chest to chest. “I want you to fill me up with that perfect cock of yours.”

He gasps when I nip his bottom lip. “Fuck, Remi. Yes.”

I smack a quick kiss to his lips and reach for the lube that I know is kept in his bedside drawer and a condom. Bailey rolls the condom down his cock while I remove the plug and lube up my hole. 

My hands are trembling by the time I’m gripping Bailey’s cock and lining him up. I slowly lower myself down, allowing me time to adjust to the size of him. By the time I’ve bottomed out, my quads are shaking. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Bailey praises, smoothing his hands up my legs to my hips. I dare not move, not wanting to come the second he hits my prostate because he’s right. He feels so fucking good inside me.

My eyes fall closed as his hands travel up from my hips to my chest, his thumbs flicking over my nipples, sending a spark of electricity through my veins. 

“Bailey,” I moan on a whisper.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes again and glance down at the perfect man beneath me. His tattoos give him this rough edge, but I know it’s simply armor for the purest heart underneath.

Placing my hands on his chest to steady me, I begin to move. It doesn’t take long for me to pick up my pace. I adjust my position slightly, allowing him to hit my prostate, and I ride him in a way that has us both moaning with pleasure.

He spits into his palm and takes hold of my aching cock. He jerks me in time with our thrusts, and I know I’m not going to last much longer.

“Fuck, Remi, I’m gonna come,” he hisses, then fills the condom with a profound groan.

I follow moments later, spilling over his fist onto his colorfully inked stomach. Rising up on my knees, he slips out of me, and I fall beside him on the bed. I wait for him while he deals with the condom, and when he slides back into bed, I roll onto my side to face him. He mirrors my position, a soft smile lighting his face.

He’s usually surly and broody, but when he smiles? Damn. His smile freakin’ kills me.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I blurt out, then wince. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds like I’m saying it because I’m come-drunk, but I promise I’m not.”

He snickers. “If you’re come-drunk, then I am, too, because Remi?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you too.”

“You are?”

He closes the small gap between us. His lips brush against the corner of my mouth, and I shiver as he whispers, “How could I not, Remi? You’re wonderful. You’re like a bright rainbow after a rainstorm. You’re pure joy wrapped up in the most gorgeous package. I would be a fool not to be falling so head over heels for you.”

The backs of my eyes burn as I take him in. His earnest expression, the soft glint of adoration in his eyes. My heart flips in my chest, and there’s no stopping the grin that takes over my face.

Wrapping my arms around him, I cover my mouth with his in a searing kiss before saying, “No more pretend boyfriend title for you.”

He laughs and pinches my ass. “The senior citizens of Seattle will now be in mourning because this ass is officially mine.”

EPILOGUE

Bailey

One year later

I line up the glass jars along the countertop in size order, then change my mind and reorder them again. I don’t know why I’m overthinking this so much. Remi is going to love it no matter what order the jars are in, but I want it to be perfect for him.

We moved into our first home two weeks ago, but Remi has been on the road for the last week, so I’ve been rushing around, trying to get everything organized for him so we can enjoy our time together when he arrives home later today.

He doesn’t have a game tonight, but he went into the arena for practice, and with me having a day off from the studio, it gave me the perfect opportunity to get this one area of the kitchen completed.

Last year, he signed a contract that will keep him in Seattle for at least another three years, but I’m not too worried about whether we have to up and move because I can work from anywhere. But I’m glad he’s staying in Seattle.

After a final adjustment, I let out a sigh of relief and take a step back from the counter.

“Stop fussing. He’s going to love it,” I mutter to myself, then make a point of leaving the kitchen so I can’t fuss anymore.

I’m finishing up a design mock-up on my tablet when the door swings open and Remi’s voice filters down the hall.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls out, then giggles to himself. Like he does every single time.

He’s fucking cute.

“In here,” I call back, locking my iPad and placing it on the table with my pen.

Remi flops onto the couch, planting a quick kiss on my lips before dropping his head onto my lap. My fingers instantly card through his hair, and I give him a few minutes before quietly saying, “I have a surprise for you.”

He jolts upright, eyes popping wide in excitement. “A surprise?”

I nod. “You have to cover your eyes, though.”

“Okay,” he answers gleefully and places a hand over his eyes.

I help him stand up and lead him down the hall into the kitchen. Once he’s standing in front of my mini creation, I say, “Surprise!”

He lowers his hand, eyes widening at the sight of the jars.

“What’s this?” he asks with a grin.

“A marshmallow station.” I take a step closer, waving a hand in front of the selection of Remi’s favorite marshmallows, equipped with a plastic scoop and tongs. There’s even a small tub of sprinkles. “I wanted you to have an area where you can keep all of your favorite marshmallows, and I’ve got some spare jars in case we find some cool new ones to try.”

His throat bobs as he swallows, his gorgeous brown eyes turning glassy.

“Do you like it?” I ask, hating the anxious tone in my voice.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight against his chest. “I love it.”

I sag in relief, snaking my arms around his waist. “Yeah?”

He nods. “I love you, Bails.”

“I love you too, Rem.”

He releases me and grabs my hand. He links our pinkies together, where inside of our fingers are two cartoon marshmallows in the shape of a love heart. When our fingers join, it completes the full heart. It’s the only tattoo Remi has, and I have to admit, out of all the ones I have, it’s my favorite.

“I can’t wait to name all the marshmallows with you.”

I lean in, sliding my mouth over his in a tender kiss. “Here’s to forever naming all the marshmallows.”

“And to forever loving you.”

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jodi Oliver is a British author who writes queer romance, happily ever after guaranteed. She loves donuts, dogs, and ice hockey, and when she hasn’t got her head in a book or hiding in the writing cave, you can find her at an ice hockey game.

She lives in England but dreams of living in the Canadian countryside, with some highland cows and otters.

Join her Facebook reader group ‘Jodi Oliver’s Sin Bin’, stay up to date by signing up to her newsletter, or to get early access to chapters, art and bonus content, check out her Patreon.

JodiOliver.com

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