The Best Kind of Forever (Riverside Reapers Book 1)

HAYES

That game of Drink or Dare hasn’t left the back of my mind. It’s a constant reminder of how addictive Aeris Relera is—how one wrong move can lead to a Chernobyl-sized disaster. After she went home, I took a shower and jacked off to that image of her on her knees in front of me. I don’t know why I haven’t made a move.

I don’t want to hurt her, but with this big plan lingering over my head, I know I’m going to. It’s too late to come clean, so I’m gonna show her that what I’m feeling is more than sexual. More than an arrangement.

It’s just more of everything. And that scares me as much as it draws me in.

I’ve decided to take her on a nice picnic date. Something relaxing, something…less intensive than a five-course meal. Ethan called to tell me that he’s been pleased with the positive publicity from my stunt so far. He said he would’ve talked to me in person but he’s on some business trip in Oregon trying to schmooze potential clients at this well-established country club.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever tell her about the fake relationship stuff. I mean, my feelings for her are real. I don’t need to upset her by talking about something that never even happened, right?

This is the first time in a long time that my name hasn’t been dragged through the mud. I’m in the public’s good graces. I haven’t gotten into fights. I’ve been killing it out on the ice. It’s only been two weeks, but a lot has changed since Aeris came into my life.

Everything is great with my teammates. In fact, the Reapers have been doing so well that there’s a good chance of us making it to playoffs this year. Coach is beyond thrilled, and so are the rest of the guys. I can taste the victory. We’re close, closer than we’ve been in a long time. I’m not ready to go down without a fight.

I tuck the BLTs I’ve made into the checkered cushion of the picnic basket—a real, antique-looking picnic basket. The great thing about Bristol’s grandma phase is all the cool stuff he’s thrifted so far. Though, he did come back with one of those creepy porcelain dolls, and I have a sneaking suspicion that it might be haunted.

I’m just about to head out of the house when I hear the sound of a throat clearing. Bristol sits with his legs propped up on the coffee table, flipping through some old book that looks like it’s as old as the Salem witch trials.

“A picnic, huh?”

“Is it a bad idea?” I ask, my eyes jumping between him and the basket, only compounding the panic knifing through my body.

“No, no,” Bristol insists, his eyes aflame with curiosity. “I’ve just never seen you work so hard for a girl before.”

Ouch. I mean, he’s not wrong, but he didn’t have to word it like that. I don’t know what kind of voodoo witch shit Aeris has put me under. I’m rethinking all my womanizing ways. Hell, I didn’t think I’d even want to be exclusive with anyone after Macy, but Aeris has proven me wrong.

Holy shit, she domesticated me.

Bristol sets his book face down. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Her unspoken name burns on my tongue like rum. Her perfume is an addictive aroma that electrifies every hormone in my body, and the sensual set of her mouth makes me think the most detestable thoughts. She’s poison in my veins, and I can feel it killing me slowly. So yes, to put it in simple terms, I like her.

“I do. I really do.”

“I’m glad, H. You’re happy. Happier than you’ve been in a long time.”

My heart grows to twice its size, and a smile needles at my lips. “I am,” I sigh, already wishing I was at her doorstep, kissing her in my arms. God, I want to take this feeling and shoot it directly into my veins like an addict.

“Are you going to tell her the truth?” he asks.

And there’s the million-dollar question. I should tell her. That’s what any respectable gentleman would do, especially if he cares about the person he’s hurting. But…it’s too risky now. My improved behavior, my improved reputation, could all go poof at the snap of a slender, well-manicured finger.

Anxiety clangs through me, harsh and jarring, enough to apparently tie my tongue.

Bristol knows what my silence means, and he shakes his head like he’s a parent castigating their badly behaved child. “If she finds out, she’s going to be even more hurt.”

“You think I don’t know that, Bri?”

“The truth always has a way of coming out. Are you going to be the one comforting her when it does, or will you be the one she keeps at an arm’s distance?”

Bile congeals in the back of my throat. He’s right. Fuck. Why does he have to be right? Maybe I can milk this thing for a little longer, then I’ll tell her. A two-week relationship is nothing. The entire hockey world will forget all about it within days, and I’ll be back to being thought of as the unpredictable hothead who has a new flavor of woman each week.

“You know how this ends,” he warns, his jaw clenched. “And if saving your image means more to you than hurting an innocent girl, maybe you need to rethink your priorities.”

I CAN’T LET Aeris peek into the hellscape that is my mind. I can’t let her know that I’m still reeling from Bristol’s words. I want to enjoy this time with her, and nothing kills the mood faster than self-doubt.

Compartmentalize, Hayes.

When Aeris climbs into the passenger seat, my eyes are making pitstops all over her body, taking time on a few parts in between. She’s wearing a flowy sundress that’s a beautiful cream color. The ruffled bodice has a distractingly low neckline, and the hem of the dress flares out over her knees, displaying her gorgeous legs. Gold leaves dangle from her ears, and a matching necklace disappears into the cleft of her breasts.

“Oh, God. Did I overdress?” she asks, setting her purse on the car floor.

“Not at all. You look amazing.”

She releases the tension in her shoulders, and a larger-than-life smile skims over her peachy lips. “Thank you.”

I start to pull out of her driveway and onto the main road, turning on the radio to put us both at ease. I can’t take my eyes off her, which won’t bode well if I end up running over some poor pedestrian.

I’m planning to pop the label question today. I would’ve done it sooner, but I didn’t want to scare her off by moving too fast. I just hope she wants the real thing.

Thanks to a lot of “Carpool Karaoke” with Faye, I can make out the starting notes of Taylor Swift’s “Enchanted.” It must be one of Aeris’ favorite songs, because she immediately turns up the volume.

“I love this song!” she shouts over the music, bobbing her head to the rhythm, dancing against the confines of her seatbelt.

She looks so happy, so carefree. She’s lip-syncing along, her mouth wide open, her teeth glistening from the apricot streaks of sunlight splicing through the window. She’s a work of moving art, and I’ll forever be in awe of her.

Aeris bunches her hand into a fist and uses it as a makeshift microphone, making me laugh. Her singing voice is God awful, and it kind of sounds like a cat being run over repeatedly, but I wouldn’t mind listening to it for the rest of my life. After the song ends, we waste a bit of time talking since the destination is about thirty minutes from town.

“The team’s looking really good this season,” she comments, admiration saturating her words. She’s ditched her wedges and has her legs outstretched on the dashboard, pointing and flexing her painted toes.

“The guys are really stepping up their game. Fully’s had a helluva good season for a rookie,” I say.

Her cheeks glow. “Your first season wasn’t that bad.”

“Did you not see the video of me eating shit when I flew over the boards and into my own teammates?”

“In your defense, ice skating is hard.”

A chuckle jumps up my throat. “You’ve tried?”

“Mm-hm. I went a few months ago. My legs got stuck in a split, and I ripped my pants,” she recalls.

“God, the money I would’ve paid to see that.”

“To see me rip my pants?” she exclaims.

“To see what color underwear you were wearing that day.”

She gives me a playful whack on the arm, and her touch sends my thoughts into overdrive, lust torching my vision in an aurora borealis of colors.

Stop thinking about the underwear she’s wearing right now, dude.

“They were Day of the Week underwear.”

“Stacks, those are the sexiest kind of underwear.”

“You have a pair for yourself, then?”

“I’m wearing Tuesday right now,” I joke.

“It’s Thursday,” she deadpans.

I try to subtly adjust the lower half of myself. This conversation definitely isn’t hot enough to warrant an untimely boner. “That’s why I need them.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need some proof to believe you.”

Oh, fuck.

Her words transmit an unruly tingle to my now-throbbing cock, and I absentmindedly white-knuckle the steering wheel. I need to change the subject before I’m too hard to focus on driving. “How’s work?”

“It’s great! The captions go by pretty fast when I’m on a roll. My boss lets my voice shine through so they’re less preachy and more relatable. We’re doing a campaign that puts out a new recipe for smoothie bowls each day of the month of September. It’s called ‘Let’s Smoothie-Move to Better Health.’”

“A smoothie bowl? Isn’t that just a smoothie…in a bowl?”

A grin nudges her mouth. “Yep! But you can decorate them. You can dye the açaí blue and style it into waves, then sprinkle your granola on and use it for the sand. I like to add little blueberry dolphins in there for a special touch.”

“I didn’t know you were so artistic.”

“Oh, gosh. Hardly. I have the artistic talent of a toddler. But I do love anything that has to do with arts and crafts. I can’t say I’m very good at ceramics, though. My so-called mug turned out to have five holes in it and the durability of a wafer. Even the oven couldn’t save it.”

I’d probably get two full sips out of that mug, but I’d buy it off Aeris in a heartbeat if I could. I’ve always loved when people aren’t afraid to talk about their passions. And something about always having a little piece of her when she’s away makes my heart swoon.

I don’t swoon, okay? No part of me has ever swooned. I brood. That’s it.

“Why a vegan company? If you’re not vegan.” I noted the way she inhaled the bacon I made for her during her hangover.

“I don’t know. It pays the bills? And I guess it’s interesting to hear people’s perspectives about the meat industry. They make some good points, you know? And that documentary about how hot dogs are really made was pretty scarring.”

“So, you’re a non-vegan working for a vegan company, you love flowers, Taylor Swift, cats, and making questionable art pieces. What else don’t I know about you?” The ever-present flapping sensation in my chest feels a lot like infatuation. Or maybe it’s heartburn.

“Oh, um…” She hesitates, scrunching her nose like she’s thinking extra hard. “I refuse to eat the orange Skittles because they taste the worst. I have an irrational fear of mascots. My favorite color is green, but specifically forest green. I cheated one time on a math test in high school, and I still have nightmares about it. I secretly love reality television. And…I think that crocheted bucket hats are the best fashion trend to have ever existed.”

I can’t help but laugh, because that was the most Aeris answer to come out of her mouth. “That explains a lot.”

“Explains what?”

“How weird you are.”

Not weird. In fact, all of those facts are going into my memory bank as we speak. Aeris usually has a way of distracting me, but I know I’ll remember every detail she told me.

Aeris sticks her tongue out. “You like it.”

“I love it,” I agree, and a blush stains that alabaster skin of hers. A blush that not even one of her well-angled head turns can hide.

“What about you? What’s the superstar NHL player hiding from his fans?” Her brows dip up and down as she smirks mischievously.

I know she meant it as a joke, but now I can’t stop thinking about the career-ending secret I’ve been harboring. You know, the one that brands our relationship with a capital “Fake.” My confidence has taken an unforeseen plunge, and nerves wriggle around in my body.

“I think mint chocolate-chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste. I’m deathly afraid of heights. My favorite color is gold, like the little flecks in your eyes. When I was younger, Faye’s hamster seemed lonely, so I brought him over to play with the neighbor’s dog. The dog ended up eating him right in front of me, and I never told Faye what happened. And…I’ve always secretly wanted a nipple piercing.”

“Honestly? I’m all in support of you getting a nipple piercing.”

I slap my hand against the steering wheel. “Right! Thank you. The guys were giving me so much shit for it. Piercings are hot.”

“I’ve never found guys with piercings that hot, but I think you could definitely change my mind,” she flirts.

“Aeris, was that a compliment?”

“And…I revoke it.”

“Nope, you can’t. You already gave it to me. I’ll cherish it for the rest of my life,” I declare, pretending to snatch her invisible compliment out of the air and place it over my heart.

Instead of fighting me, she only rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the hint of a smile on her lips.

“Do you want to work at your job for the rest of your life?” I ask.

Aeris fiddles with the scalloped trim on her dress. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I have this unrealistic fantasy that I’ll meet a billionaire at the grocery store when we bond over our love for pickles, and that he’ll be so obsessed with me that he’ll offer me a room in his mansion,” she says. “And then we’ll eventually get married, adopt five cats, and have two children. Preferably a boy and a girl.”

I’m not a billionaire, and I don’t particularly like pickles, but I think I am obsessed with Aeris. Just a little bit.

“That sounds very…romance-y. Let me guess, he’s also a Mafia boss who’ll kill anyone who touches you?”

Aeris gasps dramatically. “You read romance books?”

“My sister does,” I correct. “Though I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t read one while taking a bubble bath before.”

“Knowing you read has made you ten times more attractive.”

“Ten times? That seems like a lot,” I mutter.

She penetrates me with a fully loaded stare, one that would be frightening if she didn’t look so adorable. “Yeah, I subtracted four points for being annoying. And cocky. And freakishly persistent.”

I feign hurt. “But those are all of my best qualities.”

“Best might be stretching it,” she says.

I click on the turn signal and take a right. “If you have a different opinion, I’d love to hear it.”

“Nice try. I’ve already inflated your ego enough today.”

“Fine, but I’m only letting you off the hook because we’re here.”

When we round the hill, a large glade comes into view. The space sits amidst a bank of low-lying boulders and elderberry bushes, bordered by a copse of sycamores and a thick, blanketed underbrush. Sunbeams stream through the window and fall in lacework over Aeris’ shoulders, highlighting that perfect side profile of hers, weaving into strands of her hair. Her eyes widen upon taking in the picture of paradise, and then she looks at me with affection so strong that it strikes my heart, maybe even stopping it for a second.