by Lily Kate
Birthday Girl
Minnesota Ice, Volume 3
Lily Kate
Published by Lily Kate, 2017.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
BIRTHDAY GIRL
First edition. September 26, 2017.
Copyright © 2017 Lily Kate.
ISBN: 978-1386666578
Written by Lily Kate.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Lily Kate
Dedication
Birthday Girl (Minnesota Ice, #3)
Acknowledgments
Synopsis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Epilogue
Author’s Note
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Acknowledgments
W.A. for being the other half of my brain.
Virginia for your sharp proofreading eyes.
Perfect Pear Creations for the fabulous cover design.
All of you, readers—beta readers, ARC readers, bloggers, and the entire book community—each and every one of you are fabulous!
And, of course, to the very best of friends... you know who you are!
Synopsis
GOOD THINGS COME IN extra-large, smoking hot birthday suits.
Bad boy Cohen James has screwed up yet again. Star forward of Minnesota’s pro hockey team, Cohen’s made a name for himself—and not in a good way. So, at the insistence of his agent, he’s stuck volunteering at the local YMCA teaching introductory adult swim lessons for ten weeks. Ten weeks of torture.
What he doesn’t expect is her.
Annie Plymouth, star pupil.
Her ruffled green bathing suit might be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen, but after a few heated breaststroke lessons and some intense mouth to mouth, Cohen’s ready to get her out of the water and into her birthday suit... except she has a different game plan.
Is the pair destined to sink... or can they swim?
Chapter 1
ANNIE
“Are you sure you can’t get married on firm ground? Absolutely positive?” I face my mother and cinch the fluffy towel closer to my body. “I’ll bribe you. Name your price; I’ll do anything.”
“Annie, please. Claude loves the ocean.” Ellie Plymouth tucks a freshly highlighted bang behind her ear and issues a smile brimming with sympathy. The sympathy doesn’t matter much, however, since she’s clearly not budging on her decision. “It’s just a ten-week class. Once per week, and then you’ll be a swimming guru.”
“Saturday mornings. Ten weeks.” I turn and face the mirror. “For what? I’m not going swimming on the cruise. I’m not going to throw myself overboard or flip around with the dolphins.”
“You promised you’d learn before your birthday, dear.”
“That’s the other thing! You didn’t have to get re-married on my birthday.”
“Seven is Claude’s lucky number.”
“So why not the seventh of June? How about August? It just had to be July?” I frown at my reflection in the mirror. There’s no possible way I can pass for a normal human being in this outfit. “Green, mom? At least you could’ve gone with black. It’s slimming.”
“You’re plenty slim. And you look great. Now shower off because your instructor won’t wait for you all day.”
I survey my body—and the swimsuit on it—and decide there’s no hope for me. I’m wearing a one-piece bathing suit made from a shade of green that resembles alien vomit. There are ruffles on every available surface. So many ruffles. Probably enough extra ruffles to make a dress from the excess material.
It’s my fault, really. I’d made my mother a stupid promise. When she’d gotten engaged to Claude, she’d begged me to learn how to swim before my twenty-third birthday. Because ironically, that is the same day as their wedding.
The wedding will take place on a cruise ship, and therein lies the problem.
I hate water.
Now, this hate is not a casual dislike of lakes, or even a modest mistrust of the ocean. It’s not even a slight hesitation to go swimming without a life jacket. No, my fear is all consuming. I am utterly, undeniably terrified of large bodies of water.
I’ve managed to get by so far in life without learning the art of the front crawl—it’s always “that time of the month” during pool parties. My gym teacher probably thought I had a chronic case of the flu thanks to my spectacular acting performances to avoid swim class. At home, I generally avoid taking baths because I’m terrified of falling asleep and drowning in my own tub, but showers work just fine.
My mother once tried to enroll me in swim lessons through the local community center, but I cried so hard that my teacher begged my mother to reconsider. Now that I’m twenty-two, she thinks enough time has passed to try again.
I’m as equally unenthusiastic as I was the first time around. The only difference is that this time, I can’t sob my way out of it.
“Dear, you need to face your fears,” my mother says again as I drag my feet into the locker room, dreading whatever the next hour will bring. “It’s for your safety.”
“Yeah, right.”
“What do you mean by that?” she snaps. “It is! I don’t want you to fall overboard after you’ve had one too many margaritas and die, Annie. Not on my wedding cruise. You’re the maid of honor for crying out loud.”
“Right, and it’d be really inconvenient to plan a funeral from your honeymoon.”
“We love you,” she says. “Claude and I care for your safety.”
“Claude calls me Amanda. He doesn’t care about my survival.”
She huffs, but doesn’t reply. She’s run out of arguments, I guess, which is just fine with me since I don’t want to discuss this any longer. I’m angry enough standing here at eight a.m. on a Saturday morning, in the middle of a late February snowstorm, freezing my
ass off in a lime-green bathing suit.
My mother’s lucky that I can’t stand it when she cries. When the tears started flowing at Thanksgiving, I broke down and agreed to swimming lessons as part of her wedding gift. Not a day later, she’d signed me up, paid for the class, and told me she’d supply the swimsuit. I am regretting all of it, especially the swimsuit.
It’s too late to come up with an excuse, however, which leaves me stuck here with two choices: wear the stupid ruffles, or scale down to my birthday suit, and nobody wants to see that. I mean... it’s February. I’m whiter than Frosty the Snowman. People will need sunglasses to look at my butt.
“There you are!” Gran putters into the showers with a huge smile on her face. “Did your mother tell you we were all coming together today? She said you might be nervous. That’s why I’m here. I’ve got moral support coming out the wazoo.”
The spray of water splutters over my shoulders as I swipe a hand across my eyes and peek at my grandmother. “No, I didn’t know you’d be here until you showed up at my apartment this morning. I could’ve come by myself.”
I glance at her festive attire. It’s a testament to how upset I’d been earlier this morning that I hadn’t even noticed my Gran’s clothes until now. I’d been too annoyed at my mother to speak at all on the ride over. I couldn’t be mad at Gran, though. She’d just come along for the ride.
“It’s really not necessary. None of this is necessary.”
Gran follows my gaze down to her tube socks straight out of That Seventies Show. One sock says “Go!” and the other says “Annie!”
My name is Annie Plymouth. Everyone will be able to see that quite clearly, thanks to Gran. There are also pom poms in her hands, and I cringe as she begins to wave them around.
“Annie, Annie, go... Bananie!” She does a high kick, but the floor is a little slippery, and she grasps onto a towel rod for balance. The whole thing clatters to the floor, a cacophony of metal on tile as Gran screeches for help.
I leap for her just as she’s starting to topple with it, cradling her in my arms, praying she doesn’t dislocate a hip. I needn’t have worried. Within seconds, she’s popped right back into her cheer.
“G-O Annie Bananie!” Gran finishes. “Rah, rah, rah!”
“No cheerleading in the bathroom,” I tell her as I do my best to reattach the towel rod to its mount. “You’re a liability.”
Carefully, I lean the pole against the wall after determining the entire thing is ruined. I can’t chastise her too much, though, since she’s newly widowed. My grandfather died last year, and it’s been rough on her. I’m just happy to see Gran waving pom poms again. “What are you really doing here?”
“Besides cheering for my favorite granddaughter?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have synchronized swimming lessons right after you.” Gran bats her eyelashes at me and offers up a brilliant smile. “I’ve moped around long enough. I loved your grandfather dearly—still do, but I need to meet some new friends and get some social interaction. I’m going crazy in my house all alone, day after day.”
“Aw, Gran, but I come to visit.”
“Only three times a week.”
“Mom lives there.”
“Yeah, but sometimes she’s boring. Plus, she’s busy with work and Claude.” Gran winks in my direction. Then, her eyes cross slightly as she appears to notice my bathing suit. Giving a low whistle, she shakes her head in appreciation. “That suit is gorgeous, Annie Banana. You think they have one in my size?”
“I’ll tell you what—I’ll give you this one. Just as soon as I get a new one. Like, in an hour. As soon as possible.”
“What are the kids saying these days? You rock?” Gran extends a hand and gives me a fist bump. “I’ll gladly adopt your bathing suit.”
“Annie, it’s time!” My mother yells from outside of the showers. “Hurry! If you don’t get a spot in this class, I am not going to be happy! I called months ago to reserve you a seat.”
I shuffle out of the showers with a towel the size of a comforter wrapped around my body. Stepping in front of my mother, I stop and exhale a sigh. “Look, mom. I’m doing this for you. As a favor. I hate the water, you know that, and I have no desire to learn how to swim—”
“—but it’s for your safety!”
“Mom!” I take in her brows, furrowed in confusion, and lower my voice. “Please. I’m doing this to make you happy. So can we please cut the crap with the cheerleading squad? I told you not to show up today... but you didn’t even trust me to drive myself, and you brought Gran?”
“I had to bring you the suit,” my mother says, crossing her arms. “I also happen to know how stubborn my daughter is, and if I hadn’t shown up, I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t have attended class at all.”
My lips are a tight line, and I don’t have anything to say because she’s right. Until about ten minutes ago, I’d planned to show up, slip the teacher twenty bucks in exchange for whatever stupid certificate I need to pass the class, and skedaddle.
It’d never been my intention to actually go through with the entire lesson. For crying out loud, I’m twenty-two. If I haven’t learned how to swim by now, I can probably manage for the rest of my life.
Plenty of other people don’t have skills. Some people never learn how to ride a bike, or roller blade, or ice skate. It’s not that weird, but clearly, my mother disagrees.
“We have got to make a deal,” I tell her, my voice a low hiss. “I’ll show up for ten weeks, but you must keep Gran and her socks away. Including today.”
“But she has synchronized swimming lessons—”
“Away!” I move past her, trying not to wimp out. I can’t help but add a polite, “Please.”
My mother and I never fight. She’s odd sometimes, and makes choices that I don’t approve of (Claude), but we’re friends. My snappish attitude is probably coming from the fact that I’m steps away from facing my worst fear: big, open pools of water.
“Honey.” My mom’s hand catches my arm before I get much further. She waits until I turn to face her, the sparkling hazel eyes mirror images of my own. “Thank you. It’s going to be okay—really, I promise. This is a good thing.”
I take a deep breath. “I hope so.”
“I’ll buy Gran an ice cream cone,” my mom says, her lips lilting upward in a smile. “That should give you a good head start. Who knows? Maybe we’ll wind up in Target for an hour and she’ll miss your lesson.”
I offer my mom a half smile and a wave. This is our version of a truce, and I’m glad we’ve reached it because it’s just her and me—it always has been, and it always will be.
Except for Claude, but he doesn’t really count. We’ve had men come and go over the last few years, but none of that matters much because we’ve always had each other. I’m an only child, and my mom is my best friend, and the only horrible thing in the world right now is getting into that stupid pool.
Until everything gets worse.
Chapter 2
ANNIE
I step outside of the locker room, and of course, I find my answer.
It can be worse.
There’s a room full of supermodels—or, what I would classify as soccer moms of the Beverly Hills variety—waiting to get in the pool. I inch onto the deck, scan the crowd of women there, and freeze.
I double back to read the sign on the door to make sure I’m in the right spot. Sure enough, there it is in big, bold letters: Adult Beginner Swim Lessons.
I slide back into the crowd, glancing around for another kindred spirit. Someone who doesn’t have Botox in their forehead or a slinky bikini that wouldn’t hold half my boob. I’m not fat by any means, but I’m not athletic either—I’m just sort of average, and I’d be popping out of those flimsy triangles the Model-Moms are sporting.
Finally, I spy another woman who looks just as confused as I feel. She’s also wearing a one-piece, which means we’re probably on the same team, a team called I don�
�t want to be here. Sidling over, I assess her briefly and offer a polite smile. She’s Asian, probably ten years older than me, with a quick grin and a pleasant expression.
“Hi,” I say once we’re shoulder to shoulder. “Are you here for swimming lessons?”
Her brown eyes flick toward me, warm and bright with a hidden smile behind them. “I thought so, but I’m starting to feel like I stumbled into the Miss Universe pageant.”
“You and me both,” I say. “What is going on here? I thought this was just a stupid YMCA class.”
“Me too!” She laughs and extends a hand. “I’m Leigh. I’m only here because my kids made me sign up. I’m making my oldest register for swim lessons, and he’s too smart for his own good. Asked why he needed to learn how to swim if his mother didn’t know how.”
“So you’re practicing what you preach?”
She exhales. “Kids.”
“Well, I’m here because of my mom.”
Leigh gives me a look. “Did she pick out the suit?”
“Unfortunately. She also picked out the fiancé who wants to get married on a stupid boat.”
“And she’s terrified you’ll drown when you get drunk at the reception and salsa dance off the plank.”
“Something like that.”
“Planning a funeral so soon after a wedding wouldn’t be a great start to a marriage,” she says with a tinkling laugh. “As a fellow mother, I understand where she’s coming from.”
I’m grinning too. I like Leigh, even if she’s siding with my mother. “She’s well-intentioned.”
“You’ll understand when you have kids of your own,” Leigh says. “Unless you have them already?”
I’m about to tell her that there’s no way I can take care of anyone else at this stage of my life. I’m a senior in college, graduating after this semester with plans to continue to law school. I’m lucky if I can feed myself most of the time, let alone a child.
However, before I can tell her all this, I’m silenced by a collective gasp from the supermodel moms.