Chapter Twenty-Four

NOELY

“You really didn’t have to give me a ride home.” I turn in the buttery-soft leather seat of Hayden’s Porsche Cayenne so I’m facing him.

“It was no trouble at all. Plus, it would have been weird waiting for your Uber driver when I could easily give you a lift.”

“So gentlemanly.”

With the car in park, Hayden peers out his window and takes in my little cottage overlooking the ocean. “Nice place. If I didn’t have to live close to LA for training, I would want a place like this. Something not too big but overlooking the ocean. Do you spend most of your time listening to the waves crash?”

“When I’m home, yes. It’s comforting to me. Work can be demanding, so when I get a chance to hang at home, I’m out on my deck enjoying the fresh, sea-salted air.”

“So when I’m breathing in the beautiful dirt-filled smog air of LA, I’ll know you’re out here, taking in the ocean.”

“Pretty much.” Quietly, we smile at each other; our banter is so light and free. “Do you want to come in? You can check out my deck.”

The lift of Hayden’s questioning eye makes me laugh. “You can check out my deck. Is that code for something else?”

I snort and cover my nose, hating how unattractive that was. “Oh my God, no.” I laugh with Hayden. “I really meant my deck.”

He undoes his seatbelt and nods. Suggestively, he says, “I would love to check out your deck, Noely.”

I follow suit. “I really mean deck. This isn’t one of those moments where you’re looking at a picture on my wall, turn around and there I am, standing tits a-blazing, nipples winking at you.”

“Well, that’s just disappointing.” His smirk is completely adorable. In fact, everything about this man is adorable. When I met him before our interview on Good Morning, Malibu, it didn’t take more than a minute to be charmed by him. In fact, had I not been a little wobbly and excited about my first date with Jack, I probably would have wondered if Dylan had been right about Hayden. Had he been interested in me then? What did he think tonight when he found out I was ShopGirl? Because, here I am, two weeks later, opening my door to this six-foot-four gentle giant with spades of sexy mixed in with charisma, charm, and intelligence. I’ll admit it. He has my stomach in knots, and now that all the imbibed confidence has worn off, when he sends his smile my way, I’m feeling something. Is it because I’ve seen action in the last month? A little from Jack, a lot from Beck . . .

I take no time in unlocking my front door, switching on a few lights and leading him to the deck. The crest of the moon shines on the waves, glistening and sparkling, creating a romantic atmosphere. I toss my purse on one of the lounges and briefly think about the last guy I brought out here.

Beck.

How we made out on the lounge, his large, defined body pressing against mine. His arousal hard and thick between my legs, only thin pieces of clothing between us. My face heats up, my cheeks scorching with what we did next, where we ended up.

I peer at Hayden, who’s gripping the rail, absorbing the light whisper of the wind and the rolling waves. He’s been sweet, conversational, and interested in my drunken stories, but he’s also been a little standoffish. He pressed his hand on my lower back when walking, but that’s the extent of our contact.

Makes me wonder, is he shy? Is this larger-than-life jock shy? It’s hard to believe a man of his size, of his brawny and muscular structure, could be timid. It’s almost an oxymoron.

But then again, maybe this is what I need. Maybe I need to take this dating thing at a snail’s pace. Because let’s be honest. The Suit was assertive, told me what he wanted and took it when he wanted it, hence the most limb-melting kiss I’ve ever had. With The Rebel, hell, I think we all know what happened there. Little Noely boo-foo couldn’t keep her pants buttoned and wound up doing wicked things with her mouth.

With Hayden, this feels like it could really go somewhere, like we’re clicking on a different level. If I want to make this work, maybe I need to take a different approach, really establish a base before I start throwing my body at him.

“This is beautiful, Noely. God, how can you even leave your house? I would have one hell of a time trying to get my ass out to work if I lived here.”

I giggle. “Work. It’s funny hearing your profession referred to that. I mean, I know it’s work for you, but to me, you’re a freaking hockey player, not pushing pencils over at Al Schmenky’s Accountant firm.”

“Al Schmenky?” Hayden’s confused face is adorable.

I shrug. “He makes sure I don’t go to tax jail. Great man, a little too much by the book, doesn’t let me write my hair stylist off as a work expense, and he really loves a good baklava.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Weird people. There is something about the honey and nuts and the dough.” I kiss my fingers and toss them in the air. “Perfection.”

“Still drunk?” He looks amused.

“I wish I could say I was.”

Looking back at the ocean, Hayden asks, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Why not? I practically outlined my nipple with my finger for you over dinner.”

“That was a very candid moment for you.”

“Candid or drunk?”

“Maybe both.” He shakes his head. “Why did you join the Going in Blind program? You’re beautiful, know a lot of people, and have a good head on your shoulders, you know, besides the nipple drawing and whatnot.” Shouldn’t I be asking him that question? Why is he using Going in Blind?

Instead of focusing my attention on Hayden when I answer, I lean on the ocean for solace. “Besides the fact that I’ve had horrible luck attempting to pick out men for myself, I wanted to try something new. I was in a rut. I wanted to meet someone who was equally interested in starting a relationship, with the aim of marriage. I don’t want to just hookup, I want something real, something palpable with meaning.”

“You want your forever.”

“Yeah, I want my forever.” Awkwardly, I stand a few feet from Hayden, wondering what he thinks of that answer. Is he looking for the same thing? Is my answer going to scare him off? Before I can torture myself with diving too deep into what his thoughts could possibly be, I ask, “Why did you join?”

“Camaraderie, the hope for something more, someone other than teammates to lean on. I’m kind of over the whole hookup scene.” He bites on his bottom lip. “I kind of got a taste of what a relationship could be like and I want that.” Ah, he did have to leave someone special behind.

“You know, Hayden. You surprise me. I keep saying that, but you do. You’re grounded and real, and I like that about you.”

“Humble upbringings. Growing up, I learned that when everything else seemed to disappear at the drop of a hat, family stuck around. I try to keep that in mind when the fame starts to become overwhelming. Play for the game, not for the fame. It was my dad’s motto for me growing up. I write the saying in every helmet I wear so I carry it around with me.”

“That’s really sweet. And your family, are they all in Philadelphia?”

“Scranton, Pennsylvania, actually. I grew up a little north from there in a town called Binghamton in upstate New York, but my parents moved to be closer to family when I graduated from high school and went off to college.”

“Oh man, they must have been so upset when you were traded.”

“Yeah, you could say that, but now my mom is ready to spend her winter in California. My dad on the other hand, is a winter man through and through. He’s the guy who will go up and down the neighborhood street, snowplowing everyone’s driveway because he enjoys it.”

“God, that sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“It’s my dad’s dream.” Hayden chuckles. “Especially after I bought him the cream-of-the-crop snowplow. You know how some guys wax their cars? My dad waxes his snowplow. It’s ridiculous.”

My voice grows bubbly when I say, “I think I would like your dad. He sounds like a dedicated fellow.”

“You can say that. He’s a good guy. Cried when I flew out here. We have a special bond.”

“Was he the one who took you to all your hockey games?”

“Both my parents did, but my dad was the one who strapped pillows all around his body and stood in front of a goal so I could practice my shooting.”

A giggle pops out of my mouth as I shake my head. “He did not.”

Hayden nods. “He so did. My mom has so many pictures of my dad standing in the goal, pillows everywhere. He’s a big guy so he blocked most of the goal. I had to try to get around him.”

“And that’s why your shot is so precise.”

“Yep, all thanks to my dad.”

I lean on the rail and turn toward him, a tilt to my head. “That’s a really cute story. It’s always a beautiful thing when someone has such a good relationship with their family.”

“They’re the best.” His eyes wander to me, curiosity lacing his features. “What about you? Do you have a good relationship with your family?”

Good, yes. Annoying . . . at times, especially when . . .

“Oh my God,” I say, realization hitting me.

“What?”

I press my hand against my head. “I have a good relationship with my family, especially my brother, Alex. My brother who’s going to freak the eff out if I tell him I went out with you.”

“Ah,” Hayden answers knowingly.

“I mean freak OUT.” I press my hand on Hayden’s forearm, his sinewy tendons flexing beneath my palm. “Like, he might camp out in front of my house and follow me around, waiting for me to meet up with you. When I told him about our interview, he was practically bouncing his leg up and down like a dog. I’m afraid to say it, but he might be in love with you.”

Hayden raises an eyebrow at me. “Is that so? Well”—he fluffs the collar of his shirt—“I might just have to meet him. Look out, Noely, seems like you have competition.”

Chuckling, I say, “Have at it. But I must warn you, Alex is married, has a kid, a beer gut, and likes to spend Friday nights watching specials on the National Geographic channel.”

“My kind of man,” Hayden retorts wistfully.

***

I take another sip of my hot chocolate and snuggle into the blanket draped over my lap. We pulled two lounge chairs together, pushed them to the railing of the deck, made some hot chocolate, and are now sharing a blanket while staring at the stars and listening to the ocean crash into the cliffs below us.

“What was the one thing you wanted so badly for Christmas as a kid but never got?” Hayden asks, his foot brushing up against mine.

As I get to know him, it’s clear that what makes him an assertive and aggressive forward on the ice, isn’t part of his resting temperament. He’s quite . . . calm, and even though I think he’s attracted to me, he’s subtle in how he shows it. A glance here and there, a light touch on occasion, yet that’s all I need to become hot and bothered by this mammoth of a man. I feel like such a hussy. Three men have caused this type of reaction in me during the last few weeks. With Hayden, despite his indirect way of showing me he’s interested, it’s the way his body moves toward mine, the way his eyes rake over me from head to toe, and the way his voice turns sultry when we speak of anything sexual.

Trying not to be distracted by his cologne—why is it men’s cologne smell so yummy—I take a moment to think about his question. “Besides the obvious real-life unicorn?”

“Obviously.” He laughs.

“Hmm . . . honestly, I can’t really think of anything. My parents were always pretty cool about getting us presents at Christmas. Although, when I was older, my brother, Alex, left for college and they decided to go all out. They bought him a brand new laptop and mattress. I got a comforter that Christmas. When I went to college, my new laptop—refurbished actually—was a birthday and graduation present. What kind of crap is that?”

“Wow, that is kind of crappy.” He smirks. “It’s one thing to give someone a mattress and computer for Christmas, but to make you combine presents, that’s just outrageous.”

“Tell me about it. Alex is a great accountant now, and he says it’s because he slept well during college, and he had a trusty computer by his side. He never misses a chance to rub it in my face.”

“Ha, sounds like my brothers.”

“Ah yes, you have two younger brothers, right?”

“Yep, both play hockey, both annoying.”

“Why do I feel like I should know this?”

“Your stalking abilities are slacking.”

“They are.” I turn in my lounge and curl my knees up to my chest. “So what about you? Was there anything you wanted for Christmas you never got?”

Casually, as if it’s second nature, Hayden presses his head against the lounge and places his hand on my blanket-covered knee, his thumb very slowly running back and forth. Oh sweet Jesus, I wish there was no blanket right about now. Would it be weird if I yanked the blanket out from over me, like a tablecloth, hoping it doesn’t disturb Hayden’s fingers? Maybe if I held up my finger and said, “Would you mind doing the touching under the blanket?” Too upfront? A little brazen?

Possibly.

But for the love of tiny orgasms, Hayden Holmes is caressing my knee—albeit over a blanket—but he’s touching me, sweetly touching me. I can hear the trumpets sound: he’s making his first move.

Now, you’re probably thinking I’m kind of a slut here. Three blind dates. Three hot men. Three different, yet incredible panty-melting moments where I’ve been ready to throw away my long-held boundary of only having sex within a relationship. But I can assure you, this is not normally me. And I’m not sure if it’s because I have gone to these dates expecting they’re my emotional match—as per the app and program—that’s caused a more instant desire for a sexual match. It could be the fourteen-month dry spell, but I’m not convinced. However, whatever the reason, it’s as though my girly parts have been buried below my subconscious and in the presence of three gorgeous specimens of men, she is popping up and saying, “Yes! I’m still here! Engage! Engage! Rid me of my cobwebs. Please!” Well, that’s what I can hear, anyway . . .

Clearly, I need to contain my raging hormones and refrain from pelvic thrusting in his face while biting down on my lower lip.

“Are you ready for this, I think I’m about to blow your mind.”

“Ooo, am I about to get some juicy dirt about your elementary years?”

“Yep and this goes in the vault, got it?”

“Sooooo no broadcasting this on my morning show about the hot new hockey player the Quakes just acquired?”

“Hot, huh?” I roll my eyes, causing him to laugh. “Yeah, this is not morning show material.”

“Got it.” I zip up my mouth. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“All right, so do you remember when we were younger, how toe socks were all the rage?”

I squint my eyes, trying to understand where he’s going with his. “Uh, I remember they were all the rage for girls.”

He nods, his lips turn up, and his strong neck exposed to the midnight sky. “Well, I wanted a pair so bad, like it was all I asked for. I just wanted toe socks.”

“Why on earth would that be something you wanted?”

“My cousin let me wear hers one day and I couldn’t get over how they made my feet look. I mean, they were socks conformed to each individual toe. Hell, it was blissful wearing those things.”

“Oh my God.” I snicker.

“Laugh all you want, but those were the shit back then. Unfortunately, they didn’t make them in colors I could pull off—”

“Like pink?”

He shakes his head. “Not at such a young age. Plus, my feet were too big at that point. I nearly tore my cousin’s socks.”

“What a sad, self-deprecating story you chose to tell me.”

Turning toward me, his eyes bounce between mine as he pushes a stray hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my face, grazing my jaw. My breathing immediately starts to pick up from his simple touch, from the way he’s looking at me, so steady, so heavy with curiosity.

Slowly, his thumb pads across my bottom lip, pulling on it ever so slowly and releasing before I can think much of the touch. When his hand starts to glide down the small column of my neck, he says, “Thought I should tell you a story that shows you I’m not perfect, even though I like to think I am.”

Gaining a little courage, wanting to push him further since he turned the heat up between us, I say, “I knew you weren’t perfect, or else you would have kissed me by now.”

A slow, lazy smirk spreads across his mouth. There goes taking things slow . . .

“Not because I didn’t want to.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “I’m going to get going. Mind if I use your bathroom before I go?”

“No. Of course not. Second door on the left down the hallway.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He then pops up, well, as much as someone as hulky as Hayden Holmes can pop up, and heads inside. It’s not really what I expected, but weirdly, I think I’m okay with that.

After folding the blanket and collecting our cups, I head to the kitchen.

“Sorry, Noely, I should have done that,” he says as he points to the cups. His momma raised him well.

“It’s all good.”

He grabs his jacket off the couch and I meet him at the front door. Turning toward me, he keeps my hand in one of his and cups my cheek with the other. “You’re beautiful, Noely, and I have really enjoyed our date. Here’s what I’m thinking. You are someone I’m very comfortable with. In fact, I’m surprised how in sync we are. That could be the success of the Going in Blind app, or it could be just us. I’m going with the latter.” I am trying so hard to concentrate on his words, but the look in his eyes is mesmerizing. Sincerity. When he strokes my cheek again, it almost brings tears to my eyes. He is so tender with me, and I actually feel . . . cherished. I want to agree with him. I think it is us, but he hasn’t finished.

“I am looking for someone in my life long-term, like you are, and from how good tonight has felt, I want to give us a go. You mentioned how things were too physical, too fast with your date before me, so I want you to know I’m conscious of that. I want to build a base with you, Noely.”

My eyes search his, true sincerity ringing through them. Never in a million years would I have thought Hayden was such a sensitive man. I thought an alpha male takes what he wants all the way, kind of like Jack, but instead, he’s sweet, charming, and considerate.

Slow is what I wanted; so slow is what I’ll take.

Reaching around me, Hayden pulls me into his chest, his chin resting on the top of my head. “When I was in Pennsylvania, I was in a brief relationship. I saw what it was like, the handholding, late-night phone calls, and early morning texts. It was nice, especially after feeling so lonely on the road. It was so fucking nice. You asked me why I joined the program, and there is my answer. I want long-term, the family like the one I came from. I want to build something strong, something to last forever, just like you. So what do you think?”

Even though I desperately want him to kiss me, to maybe stick his hand up my shirt and do a little fondling—thank you, hormones—what I want more is a forever, so I nod into his chest. “That sounds perfect to me.”