Romancing the Grump (Appies, #4)

by Jenny Proctor

I’m not exactly sure why I do it. But when Summer is finally in my arms, I don’t stop. I don’t say hello. I just lean down, wrap my palms around her shoulders, and kiss her. Maybe it’s to let this guy know exactly how serious I am about keeping Summer away from him. Maybe it’s because if I don’t channel the energy coursing through me into something, I actually might rip him limb from limb. Maybe it’s because the coiled tension inside me has finally snapped.

But right now, I’m kissing Summer because I want to—because I want her to know she’s mine.

If we were anywhere else, I would not stop with one kiss. I would pull Summer against me, explore her mouth with the reverence and attention it deserves.

“She’s not your concern,” I say menacingly. “She doesn’t want to hear from you, she doesn’t want to see you. And you won’t see her again. Not unless you want to answer to me.” Jason’s jaw tightens, but then he rolls his eyes and nods.

“That was some kiss, man,” Alec says. I run a hand across my beard. “I’ve kissed her before.” “Not like that, you haven’t,” Van says. So it wasn’t just me who thought that kiss was different.

“It’s not real,” I say. “It was just because her old boss was there. Because we’re in public. All of this—it’s all been fake.” My words crack at the end of my sentence, and I drop my head, my chin falling to my chest. Felix steps up beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Nathan, it’s never been fake,” he says. “It doesn’t matter what lie you’ve been telling yourself or telling her, that’s the truth. And you know it.”

It only now occurs to me that I spent the last fifteen minutes reacting, without actually asking Summer if she wanted my help. I kissed her. Called her baby. Then I dropped her in a chair and commanded her not to move like I’m some kind of Neanderthal who fights her battles for her. It felt like the perfect choice at the time, and I can’t say I have regrets. But does Summer feel the same way? Slowly, my friends file past me, offering me encouraging looks or pats on the back. Felix is last to go, and he looks me dead in the eye and says, “Don’t run, man. Don’t run from this.”

I could write poetry about that kiss. I probably will write poetry about that kiss. Bad poetry that no one will ever read. But poetry, just the same.

Forget ninety percent. I’ve completely fallen for this man. Inexplicably. Maybe even cosmically, which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, and I still mean it.

The man might be a professional athlete, but I’m not exactly a petite person. The realization that he could still toss me over his shoulder triggers a new pulse of longing deep in my gut.

“Nathan, I’m in love with you,” I blurt out. His eyes widen the slightest bit, but he doesn’t speak. Just swallows once, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I know you said you don’t want a real relationship, and I tried to fight it—I swear I did.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “But I fell in love with you anyway.”

“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” I say. “You’ve been clear about that from the start. And maybe it wasn’t fair of me to agree to fake it when I sensed how easy it would be to fall for you. But I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t keep giving you all of myself, all of my heart, without knowing I’m getting the same thing in return.” He presses his forehead to mine, his grip on me tightening. “I don’t know if I can,” he says. “If I even know how. I’ve been telling myself I can’t for so long.”

Nathan, my heart’s already in this. I’m in too deep. I can’t just keep pretending, hoping that you’ll eventually decide this is what you want.” He spins around, fire flashing in his eyes. “Of course it’s what I want,” he says, his voice broken and husky. “It’s never been a question of desire. I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you, and I’ve wanted you every moment since.” He hesitates, his mouth opening and closing like he just can’t find the right words. “Summer, the only thing more certain than how I feel is the inevitability of me disappointing you.” “You’re wrong,” I say, stupid tears coursing down my cheeks. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that. Life is all about risk. There are never any guarantees—especially not when it comes to love. You’re refusing because you don’t want to hurt me, but the person you’re really hurting is yourself. You deserve to be loved, Nathan. So your schedule is stupid, and your job is hard. Shouldn’t I be the one who gets to decide if you’re worth it?” He only shakes his head. “I’ll just end up hurting you, Summer.” I shrug. “Maybe. But I already love you. Feels kinda stupid not to even try.”

I can’t shake the feeling that this kiss is Nathan saying goodbye. But I have to let him go. He knows how I feel. All I can do is wait and hope he feels the same way.

I called Felix. He’s always talking about his therapist like the guy is one of his best friends, so I figured he might have some words of wisdom for me. He did, and they were blunt and incisive. It isn’t about hockey, man, and you don’t need to overthink it. Just be better than your father was. Do better.

“Dude. What is wrong with you?” Behind us, Mom starts to laugh. “I think Nathan just decided that he’s in love.” I spin back around and take Mom’s face in my hands, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I am in love. And I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“I love you, Summer,” he says, and my breath catches in my throat. I wasn’t expecting him to start there—to go right for it—and now it happened so fast, I feel like I missed it. “Can you just…say that one more time?” I say, my voice trembling. Nathan squeezes my hands. “I love you. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I was scared and overwhelmed and those are the kinds of feelings I’ve been running from for a very long time. But I’m done running. I know I haven’t been seeing things right—that I’ve got some messed up ideas about relationships. But if you’re still willing to gamble on someone as screwed up as I am, I want to try. I want to try to love you like you deserve.”

“I love you too,” I whisper against his lips. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit, but I love you. And I believe in you enough for the both of us.” Nathan holds my gaze for a long moment, his expression full of love and wonder and awe. He shakes his head and lets out a little chuckle. “I don’t deserve you. But I’ll spend every day trying to live like I do.”

“Did I tell you I finally figured out what enforcers do on the ice?” He narrows his gaze, like he can’t quite tell if I’m joking or not. “You did not,” he says slowly. I shrug, like I fully expected his answer. “Okay. Just checking.” Nathan freezes, holding my gaze before the brightest, most beautiful smile stretches across his face. Then he throws his head back, eyes closed, and my very grumpy, perfectly imperfect, love-of-my-life hockey player starts to laugh.