Birthday Girl: A contemporary sports romantic comedy (Minnesota Ice Book 3)

by Lily Kate

  “Yes!” I hang up the phone with gusto after adding a firm goodbye to my mother.

  Glancing in the mirror, it’s obvious that I won’t have any trouble with Cohen James this morning—not in this hideous thing. The sensation is oddly freeing. There are enough strings hanging off the brown suit to make me look like a cousin to the wooly mammoth.

  Before heading out to join my class, I pull one last, brand-new purchase from the bag. A robe made to look like a superman cape, all blue and fuzzy. I don’t know why I got it—as a joke, I suppose—for Cohen. After the article I’d read about him serenading the team captain without pants, I thought he could’ve used it.

  But now that I’m standing here in front of the mirror, it feels too personal. I don’t even know the man. Instead of feeling goofy and cute, I feel like a creep for buying a gag gift based off an article on the internet. That’s like having an inside joke with myself.

  I shove the robe back into my locker and slam it shut before I change my mind and embarrass myself further. Before I can chicken out, I force myself to take one step after another out of the locker room and into the pool area.

  He’s there, waiting. Not for me, specifically, although that knowledge doesn’t make this any easier. It was a horrible idea wearing this outfit. A horrible idea to come back to class. A horrible idea to buy the robe as a joke. All of it—horrible.

  Cohen’s eyes land on me, running over my body in the span of a nanosecond. It sets my skin to tingling and my mind swirling with curiosity. Wondering what he’s thinking right this very second.

  Maybe it’s not too late to pay him off for a certificate to pass the class. I ponder this while waiting for him to speak. After all, what does he care if I show up to class every week? It’s not his problem if I fall off a plank at my mother’s wedding and drown. I mean, really, after three margaritas is it really going to matter whether I know how to breaststroke? I think I’m shark bait at that point anyway.

  “You know I can’t possibly stick up for that bathing suit, don’t you?” Cohen’s eyes are dancing green. We’re the only two people in here save for an elderly couple sliding into the hot tub. “That thing is tremendously ugly. Where did you find it?”

  “I think it flatters my figure.”

  My fingers trail over some of the coarse streamers hanging off the side. Where is Leigh? I can’t handle being in a room alone with him. The pressure’s too much. I don’t even like the man, and I feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle under the intensity of his stare.

  Then, that intense gaze lowers to my lips, and my face heats up all over. Suddenly, I can’t think of anything to say, so I start humming the first song that pops into my head. Night at the Roxbury.

  He recognizes it, and his eyes roll to the ceiling. “You stalked me?”

  “No.”

  “Really.”

  “I read the news. I’m a well-informed citizen.”

  “I didn’t know well-informed citizens cared a lick about the hazing rituals of a hockey team.”

  “So it was hazing?”

  “It’s none of your business,” he says, his face now close enough for me to smell the spearmint on his breath. Fresh, sharp, just like his eyes. “In fact—”

  He stops speaking abruptly, and I glance up. Leigh’s entered the room, and she’s holding the door open for Jason.

  “Can I speak to you in my office?” Cohen glances at my swimsuit—if it can be called that—and clears his throat. “Please and thank you, Miss Plymouth.”

  Leigh raises her eyebrows at me, her expression neutral. I follow Cohen out of the room and offer her an eyeroll and a shoulder shrug, enough for her to break into a grin.

  “You kids have fun,” she murmurs as I pass by.

  A few minutes later, he closes the door to the lifeguard office. It’s early Saturday morning, another snow softened day, the temperatures dipping just below freezing.

  Cohen has his shirt off, swim trunks covering his legs, and it’s distracting. I wish I’d brought the robe with me so I could put it over his chest.

  “What do you want from me, Annie?”

  I’m startled by the question. “What?”

  “What are you doing in my class?” Cohen’s face is unreadable, and I can’t tell if he’s upset, or just mildly annoyed at my presence. “You hate being here. You don’t want to get in the water, and clearly I’m your least favorite person in the world.”

  “You’re not my least favorite person in the world.”

  “Is that right?” He crosses his arms and leans against the desk. “Sure feels like I am.”

  “You’re not my least favorite person in the world, but after last week, you’re close.”

  “Who wins that award?”

  “Billy Prescott. Pantsed me during gym class freshmen year of high school. Mortifying. Hitler takes a close second.”

  He runs a hand through his hair, his muscles straining as he perches on the edge of the desk. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not as big of a jerk as you might think.”

  “You stole my noodle.”

  “I brought you in here to apologize for last week.” He folds his hands before his body, looks down at his feet before raising his eyes to mine. “I shouldn’t have taken your floatation device away without warning. I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized you’d react like that.”

  “I told you that I’m terrified of water!”

  “Look, I said I’m sorry!” He straightens from the desk, his hands widening as he speaks. “I’m apologizing because I can recognize when I’ve made a mistake. I thought you were a little nervous of the water. Not deathly afraid! Either way, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard the first day of class.”

  I swallow, uncomfortable with the way his gaze has softened, his eyes roving my face, looking for signs of a crack in my exterior.

  “What happened, Annie?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “It’s no big deal. Stupid. Can we just get back to class?”

  “You never answered why you’re here in the first place.”

  “My mom’s getting married on July 7th.”

  “Congratulations to her.”

  “On a boat,” I continue. “As you might’ve guessed by now, I don’t have this whole swimming thing down yet, and she’s nervous I’ll die.”

  “Couldn’t you just stay on the boat and not jump into the ocean?”

  “Well, yeah. Try to get my mother to see things that way, though.”

  He laughs, the crinkle around his eyes a pleasant change from the hardness that’s been there before. “If she’s anything like you, I’ll bet she’s stubborn.”

  I cross my arms back, but he’s too close, and I brush against his bare chest as I do so. It’s hard, smooth, just like I’d imagined. “Maybe.”

  “July 7th...” He taps his fingers against the clipboard he’d carried into the office. “Your mom’s getting married on your birthday?”

  I reach over and pull the clipboard away so I can see what it says. Sure enough, my birthday is listed there, information I’m sure my mother supplied when she signed me up. “Yep. Special day. On the subject—are you open to bribes that allow me to bypass this class?”

  “Bribes? What sort of bribes?”

  “I’m a college student. I can give you my used textbooks, twenty bucks, and meals for a week from the cafeteria. In exchange for a certificate that says I passed, of course.”

  “You have something else I want.”

  “I do?”

  He reaches a hand out and places it on my chin, tilting my face toward his until I’m pinned by his gaze again. I stand there, transfixed, as he runs his tongue over his lips. “Yes.”

  “So is that a no to the textbooks and twenty dollar deal?”

  “I want a date with you.”

  “A date?” I’m floored. “You’re kidding. I thought you were trying to clean up your act.”

  “I am.” He pauses. “Annie, I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
>
  “How is this doing the right thing?” I shake my head at him. “I’m not interested, and I’m not sleeping with the teacher to get an A, sorry.”

  “First of all, I never asked you to sleep with me. Your mind went there all on its own. Secondly, that’s not what this is about.”

  “What is it about? I thought you had rules and were trying to be professional? This is how you... you professional?”

  “Professional is not a verb, but I like your creativity.” He grins, which irks me even more. “Believe it or not, this is me trying to do things the right way.”

  My cheeks turn red, and I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. Dressed like a wooly mammoth, no less. “I’d love to hear how you justify that one.”

  “That’s easy. How do I justify wanting a date with you?” Cohen sets his clipboard down and leans against the desk. “A gorgeous woman shows up to the first day of class. I mean, it’s impossible to miss her.”

  It takes me a minute to realize he’s talking about me. When it finally clicks, I turn over a few noises that never quite make their way into words.

  “Then, I get to know her a little and find out that she’s also really funny. She makes me laugh, she’s obviously smart, witty, all of those great things, and on top of it she’s stunning—even in a burlap sack.”

  “It’s not burlap,” I say, fingering my suit. “It’s—”

  “Whatever the hell it is, the suit is offensive, and yet I still can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve tried, Annie, believe me. Every day this week I’ve tried to make sure you’re not the first thing I think about when I wake up, or the last person I think about before bed.”

  “And how’d that work for you?”

  His grin grows brighter. “Not fucking great. Otherwise I wouldn’t be throwing professionalism out the window and taking a chance asking you out.”

  “But—”

  “You can say no, and I won’t treat you differently in class. This was never a bribe, Annie, this is all about me spotting an incredible woman and wanting a chance with her.”

  “Me? No, I’m very, very average.”

  He snorts with laughter. “Right.”

  Somehow, it’s endearing the way he looks at me next, and I find myself getting all shy on him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’d still prefer a get-out-of-class free card. Are you sure I can’t interest you in a calculus book?”

  He raises his hands. “Sweetheart, I didn’t even use a calculus book when I took the class. Sorry, no deal. I just want to get to know you.”

  I bite my lip. “Can you hold that thought? Because I have one more bribe for you.”

  I spin past Cohen, leaving him to watch as I barrel out of the room. I retrieve the robe from my locker and return in a few seconds.

  He takes one look at the fabric in my hands. “What is that?”

  “For you,” I say, tossing it to him. “For the next time you get the idea to waltz around the neighborhood naked.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Actually, put it on right now because I can’t make a deal with you while you’re naked.”

  “I’m not naked, I’m—”

  “—half-naked, and that’s just as bad,” I say. “Put it on.”

  My words are cut off mid-sentence as he takes two steps toward me and slides his hand behind my head. His lips hover above mine for a second, just a split second, leaving me the window of escape. The opportunity to back out from the kiss.

  I don’t move.

  “Do you want me to kiss you?” He waits, his eyes searching mine. “You can say no, and I’ll leave you alone.”

  My eyes are closed, which is a mystery to me, since I don’t remember shutting them. Tingles are shooting everywhere, and I can’t seem to make myself push him away.

  The moment his lips meet mine, two things happen. Simultaneously, I’m melted from the inside out by the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life, and horrified that it’s happened at all. I’d told myself not to fall for Cohen’s charms, and... crap!

  I completely forgot about the girl in his car.

  My hand comes up and strikes him across the cheek with a loud slap. “You have a girlfriend, asshole!”

  “What? Annie, no I don’t!” He reels backwards as I stomp out of the room. “What are you talking about?”

  His words follow me, and I wonder if I made a huge mistake. What if that was his sister in the car, or his brother’s wife? What if I assumed wrong? I’m flushed from head to toe, staring wildly around the hall as I head toward the showers.

  Then I remember that I should get to class still because my mother will know if I skip it. She’s psychic like that. Plus, Gran will be coming for her synchronized swimming class, and she’ll tattle if I’m not here.

  So instead, I head to the sauna to cool down for a second, which is ironic because I’m sweating bullets. Someone cranked this heat up high. I wait for a minute, two, three before I’m fairly certain he’s not coming after me.

  Sooner or later, though, I must return to class.

  Before I move, the door is pushed open and a rush of cold air washes over my body. It’s a welcome relief from all the hot air, and I raise my head to greet the newcomer.

  I pause, my hand halfway to my mouth in surprise.

  “Cohen?”

  Chapter 12

  COHEN

  I can’t figure out if I’m angry or annoyed or curious.

  Rubbing my jaw, I wait in the office a little dumbstruck. What have I ever said to give her the impression that I have a girlfriend? I’m the last person in the NHL that anyone would imagine had a girlfriend.

  Her slap was hard, but it didn’t hurt. My skin stings, but what annoys me even more is I can smell the lingering scent of her lotion, or soap, or whatever it is that’s driving me insane. So, instead of standing around and waiting for her to apologize, I storm back to class.

  After all, she has to come to me. At least, she does if she wants to pass the class in time for her mom’s wedding.

  “Where’s Annie?” Leigh asks the second I reach her and Jason. “Wasn’t she with you?”

  “Bathroom,” I mutter, wondering what it is about girls and their ability to sense when things have gone belly up.

  “Is she okay?” Leigh presses. “Should I go check on her?”

  “I think she’s fine.” I rub my jaw again, wincing when I brush over an area where she clipped me with her nail. “Let’s get started. Grab a kickboard and take a lap down and back.”

  “I recommend you go after her,” Leigh says, brushing past me on her way to grab the floaty. “Annie’s a nice girl.”

  Before I can respond, she flops into the pool, a sorry excuse for a cannonball. I have to admire her grit. The way she’s spiraling and kicking and floundering down the lane makes me exhausted, but she doesn’t give up. As far as I can tell, she’s floating on nothing but a prayer and a rickety old kickboard.

  I offer some constructive feedback to her and Jason as they complete their first lap. I instruct them to practice the changes with another lap, and then tell the lifeguard I’ll be right back. He nods and turns an eye on my class as I leave the pool area.

  The first place I check for her is the office, but she’s not there. Next, I debate asking a woman with a few small kids if she’ll check the ladies’ room for me, but I don’t get the chance because the youngest child starts screaming bloody murder.

  I’m about to give up, wondering if maybe she went all the way home, when I turn around and see her. I stop, and so does my breathing, at the sight of her through the clear sauna door. I almost barge right in, my adrenaline taking control, when something makes me pause. Something in the way she’s sitting, head in her hands, shoulders slumped.

  I feel bad. I should be apologizing about going in for the kiss. There’s no excuse for me to pull that sort of a stunt. Even so, I do have one big problem.

  I’m not at all sorry that she kissed me back.

  Chapter 13
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  ANNIE

  “Cohen, what are you doing here?” I ask for a second time. “What about class?”

  “I’m not sorry I kissed you, Annie. I can’t pretend that I don’t like you.”

  I blink, processing. He just blurted these facts aloud, and I’m not sure if he intended to say any of it at all.

  “Okay,” I say cautiously.

  “I don’t have a girlfriend, either.”

  “So the girl in the car, that was... a friend?”

  He shrugs. “Yes, though I think she had the wrong idea. I’m not—wasn’t—interested, and I told her so. Nothing happened between us.”

  I straighten. “Then I owe you an apology for slapping you. I’m not normally a violent person.”

  Moving through the heat, he gestures for me to scootch over so he can share my towel. The temperature increases to approximately one million degrees, and it has nothing to do with the sauna. One of his hands comes to rest on my lower back and, try as I might, I can’t bring myself to flinch.

  “This is what I mean,” he says gently. “You don’t pull away when I touch you.”

  “That sounds creepy.”

  I reach behind my body, pull his hand off my back with two fingers, and deposit it onto his lap. The rest of my body is sizzling, and frankly it’s a traitor. My mind tells me it’d be bad news to get involved, but my body seems to like the idea.

  He folds his hands over his knees. “So, are you coming back to class?”

  “Have you reconsidered the deal?”

  “You mean, your bribe?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Sorry, no can do, pretty lady. I’m professionaling.”

  “That’s not a verb,” I snarl, staring out the door. With a last ditch attempt, I give him the side-eye. “Are you sure about that bribe?”

  “The bribe’s a no. Have you considered my proposal?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m just not interested in a date.” I stand and yank my towel off the bench. It’s wedged under his rear end, so I yank harder. “I’ll do the stupid front crawl and treading water thing if it kills me.”

  He stands too, his long, lean muscles shining in the humidity. A new sheen from the moisture coats his skin, and I watch as teensy little droplets slide down the rivulets of his stomach.