The Trouble with #9 by Piper Rayne

“Are you ready for our fifth date?” I ask her, sitting on a stool at her breakfast bar.

Last night was crazy. I don’t think I’ve ever had that much sex in one night, but this morning, I could barely make breakfast without thinking about how I wanted to be back in that bed with her.

“Fifth date, huh?” she says, walking out of her bedroom in a shirt that just hits the waistband of her flowy skirt. Her hair is slightly damp, her makeup barely there. She’s beautiful as always. “Am I dressed okay for it?”

“It’ll do.” I shrug.

She stops and stares at me for a moment. “I think I should’ve held out longer.”

She walks past me and I pull her into me, spurring a giggle I’ll never get enough of. “You’re stunning as always.”

“Better.” She kisses my cheek. “We have to talk about a few things.” Then she’s gone from my arms and her tone has changed.

“What do we have to talk about?” I stand and swing my keys around my finger. I ran home this morning to get clothes, and even that felt like it took an eternity.

“The fact I’m your therapist.”

I open the front door and she walks through and waits for me to shut the door before she locks it. “I relinquished you.”

“Yes, on a notepad, I remember.”

“I hear a but?” I open my car’s passenger door for her.

“But Mr. Gerhardt doesn’t know that. He’s still expecting one more session. I’m lucky he hasn’t cornered me about it yet because I have nothing to tell him. Nothing that says you’ll go easier on the ice.” She slides into my car, pulling her skirt all the way in before I shut the door.

I have to tell her at some point about Armen and my past. I don’t need a therapist to tell me why I take the role of protector with my teammates. I’m fully aware of why.

“Maybe now that all my sexual frustration is gone, I’ll be nicer to those assholes.” I shut my door and start the engine.

“Since you can’t talk to me, do you want me to refer you out?” Her voice is hesitant, as though she’s unsure how I’ll react.

“I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’m good.” I back out of the parking spot and head onto the road.

She says my name as though I don’t know myself. I got through Armen’s death fine without the help of a therapist. I can get through this too.

“Honestly, I’m good. I’ll try to control myself more.” I kiss her at the stoplight.

She nods, but we’re definitely not on the same page here—she believes therapy is a cure-all and I’m unwilling to open my chest and let my heart fall out.

Fifteen minutes of silence later, we arrive at the location of our date. We’ll have to address therapy again, but not today. I don’t want to fight.

“Costco?” She stares at the big red sign.

People file out with carts overfilled with large quantities of items.

“The food station?” she asks.

I laugh, turning off the engine. “Better. Samples.”

A smile tips her lips, and she shakes her head. “Okay, definitely original, Maksim.”

She opens her door and I meet her at the trunk of my car, take her hand, and lead her in.

“It’s a secret club,” I whisper, while pushing the cart.

“Just your regular ol’ speakeasy,” she counters, and I laugh. I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed as much as I do around her. “Why the cart?”

“I have to pick up a few things. If there’s anything you want, just put it in the cart and it’s on me.” I wink and she nods.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

We’re clearly being sarcastic, but that’s one of the reasons why I love spending time with her.

On the way to the samples area, I grab the protein powder I use for shakes and some chicken. Paisley grabs a bottle of wine and some muffins. We clearly have different priorities at Costco.

Once we get to the food area, there’s a sampler out of some taquitos.

“Ladies first.” I motion to the tray.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you.” She takes two and feeds me one before eating hers. “What do you think?” she asks after she swallows hers.

“Good. Want to look around a bit more?”

“Sure.”

I put some coconut water in the cart, then toilet paper and paper towels. All the stuff I know we’ve been running low on lately. Paisley peruses the books, reading the backs or inside flaps of each one she picks up.

“Do you read?” she asks while looking at the book in her hand.

“Nope.”

“Why not?” She puts down the book, never putting one in the cart.

“I have a lot of shit to do. Relaxing with a book isn’t on the top of my list.”

“Not even for laying out on the beach?”

I chuckle. “I don’t lay out on the beach.”

She stops and stares at me as if I’m crazy. “Never?”

“If I’m on the beach, I’m playing volleyball or throwing a frisbee or actually swimming.”

“Well, just so you know, if we ever do a beach day, I prefer being lazy and sitting in a lounge chair with a book and some kind of frozen daiquiri in hand.”

I pretend to write it down. “Noted.”

She puts her arm through mine, kissing me on the cheek. My chest swells at her easy affection. I hope she feels the same about me—that she can’t get enough.

We eat some more samples, and she insists on buying a jumbo-sized box of Greek yogurt ice cream treats and I give in like an exhausted dad to a pleading child. “You do know the samples are always better than when you bring them home?”

She shoos me with her hand, putting the box in the cart. “I bet you I’ll eat them all within a week.”

I read the box. “You’re going to eat twenty-four bars in seven days?”

She nods, so sure of herself.

“And if you don’t?”

“Why must everything be a challenge to you?” she asks before thanking the lady giving out chocolate almond samples and inserting one into my mouth.

“What fun is it if there’s no reward to the bet?”

“But why must you bet in the first place?”

I snatch her by her waist and pull her toward me. “Because it’s fun, and now that our relationship has progressed, we can use sexual favors as rewards.”

Her mouth forms an O shape.

“Now you get my point.” I slap her ass.

“Are you Maksim Petrov?” a small voice says from behind Paisley.

I look over her shoulder at a little blonde girl with pigtails who most likely just saw me smack Paisley’s ass. Great.

I smile and nod. “I am.”

Paisley turns around, welcoming the little girl with a big smile. “I love your pigtails.”

She nods and her pigtails bounce. “Thank you.” She holds out a piece of paper and a pen. “Could you sign this? My dad is a huge fan and his birthday is next week. I heard people saying it was you and I can’t get my daddy anything because I don’t have a job. Mommy says he likes homemade things and that he’d love a card, but I don’t like getting cards. You can’t play with a card.”

I glance at Paisley, who looks as though she’s a second away from cracking up at this little girl.

“This is the back of my mom’s grocery list, and if you sign it, I’m gonna make a collage.”

I think for a moment. “You’d need proof though, right?”

The little girl’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Proof that it was my signature.”

Her bottom lip pops out. “My daddy would believe me.”

“Oh, I was going to offer a picture, but sure, I can sign.” I take the pen and paper, scribbling my name.

“A picture!” Her eyes light up, and I nod. “Let me get my mom.”

I catch sight of her mom watching from a distance, so she’s not surprised when her daughter takes her hand and drags her over to us.

“Thank you for being so nice,” she says when she reaches us.

“Our pleasure. She’s adorable.” Paisley speaks first, and I like the word our coming out of her mouth.

“She really wants to get her dad a gift on her own. I suggested some socks over there, but she said no way.”

“I said she could take a picture with me and add it to her collage.”

“Oh, that would be great.” The mom smiles.

“Daddy will love it.” The little girl is already taking the mom’s phone out of her purse and handing it to Paisley. “Can you take it?”

“Calm down, Ashley.” The mom chuckles, looking a little embarrassed at her daughter’s enthusiasm.

I pick up the girl, and Paisley snaps the picture. Once we’re done, I lower her back down and Paisley hands the phone back to the mom.

“It was nice meeting you,” I say with my hand raised.

Ashley smacks it. “You too. Sorry about the playoffs. Drake kind of screwed you.”

“Ashley!” her mother scolds, cheeks turning red.

The girl looks over at her mother. “It’s what Daddy says.”

The mom gives me an apologetic smile.

“We’re not out of the playoffs yet.” Though even I can admit that it’s a long shot we’d make them now, but never say never. “Give Drake a break. He had a lot going on and his game is back, so I say next year you’ll see us win the Cup if it doesn’t happen this year.” I wink at her.

Ashley nods, still looking unconvinced. I’m not sure how much of a fan she is.

“Thank you again for doing this. It means so much. You’re a very sweet man. Not at all like they talk about you when you play.” The mom touches my forearm. “And you two make a very attractive couple.”

I watch the mom and her daughter leave, and Paisley links her arm with mine. “So that’s what it’s like to be with someone famous.”

I glance over. “They’re not all that nice and cute. Believe me.”

We leave Costco with more stuff than I thought I’d buy, but that seems to happen to everyone who goes into that place. Since I have stuff that needs to be refrigerated, I figure we’ll stop by my house, then figure out what we want to do for the rest of the day.

“Nice shack,” Paisley says when we pull up to my beach house.

It’s not anything like Drake’s, but it’s a nice size with four bedrooms, four baths, a pool, and a hot tub. Plus it’s right on the beach. I spent way too much for it, but since I’m not some world traveler and kind of a homebody, it suits me well.

“It’s not that amazing.”

“I think my apartment can fit in your garage,” she says, carrying a load of the stuff from Costco into the house.

“I like your place. It suits you.”

“I imagined you lived in an ice castle, so this is refreshing,” she says, laughing as she walks through the archway of the door.

As I’m making sure the door is shut behind us, Paisley drops everything in her arms, each item free-falling to the floor.

Nadiya stands in the kitchen, wearing a barely-there bikini. Fuck.

“Oh, hey, I’m Nadiya,” she introduces herself with a smile.

“Paisley,” she says and looks back at me, eyes narrowed.

“Sorry, my bad. Nadiya, this is my—” I’m not sure how to refer to Paisley, so I look at her.

“Friend,” Paisley fills in the blank. “I work for the Florida Fury.” She puts out her hand and Nadiya shakes it.

Okay, we’re only friends. Irritation creeps up my spine, but I’ve got a bigger issue to deal with right now.

I drop my boxes on the floor. Nadiya and Paisley both go to pick up the boxes she dropped.

“Nadiya is a friend from back home. I was best friends with her brother for years.” I try as best I can to heal the wound I know this surprise has probably caused Paisley.

“Nice to meet you,” Paisley says and walks toward the pool Nadiya came from. “What a beautiful view.”

Nadiya bites her lower lip and punches my arm behind Paisley’s back.

Yeah. I’m a fucking idiot for surprising her like this.