We walk through the entrance of the Serengeti Express Train, and I select the back row so no one has a chance to interrupt us. The good thing about coming to the park at this hour is that most families have gone home and the guests here are only interested in the roller coasters and not a boring train ride. The train moves and my thumb runs along her forefinger.
“I’d never have asked you out if I wasn’t interested in you. I want to get to know the real Paisley Pearce, not the Paisley Pearce you think I want you to be.” She stares at the horizon, and I place my finger on her chin to bring her face to mine. “Agreed?”
Her soft brown eyes are so beautiful I could lose myself in them. “Okay.”
“That’s it? That was easy. You’re just going to agree? Doesn’t seem like the Paisley Pearce I’ve gotten to know so far.”
She shrugs and gives me a small smile. “I want to be different. I want to love roller coasters and be that girl who’s secure enough with herself to wear a short dress to a club and dance on a table.”
“Whoa now. Maybe I haven’t mentioned how possessive I can be.”
She laughs, and her curls bounce when she tilts her head. “I’ve always just been the conservative girl.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m into?” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her toward me.
“No one likes the conservative girl. They like the fun girl.”
I kiss the top of her head. “How about this? You try some things you wouldn’t ordinarily do with me, but you tell me because I only care about knowing the real you. Then we’ll do whatever it is together.”
She tilts her head and looks up at me. I love how everything feels so natural with her. As if we’ve been together forever.
“Thanks,” she says.
I know we’re not anywhere near the end of this issue with her, but I have to get her to understand that she’s the one I want, and I don’t find her the least bit boring.
She raises her arm and her hand wraps around the back of my neck. She leans in until our lips meet.
Damn, she can kiss. I slip my tongue into her mouth, and her moan is enough to make me want to pull her off this train and lay her down on the field we’re rolling past. We keep the kiss short, and I miss her lips the minute they’re off mine.
“Can we ride another roller coaster?” she whispers.
I chuckle. “Why?”
“Because I want to try it again. Now that I can tell you I’m terrified, I think you might help me through it.”
My eyes lock with hers. “Okay, but you tell me when you’ve had enough.”
“Deal.” She smiles and kisses me on the cheek.
After the train ride ends, we file out and get in line for another roller coaster. Paisley’s patient and understanding when it comes to me being recognized. She volunteers to take pictures of me with the fans and even pulls a pen out of her purse when a kid comes up and his dad doesn’t have anything to write with.
We ride three more roller coasters, and she screams so hard I fear she’ll have lung damage. After that, we decide to grab some pizza.
“All right, tell me why pretzel over nachos?”
“Why are you so curious about that?” She bites into her slice. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail now, the last roller coaster having destroyed her curls, according to her. But there’s one strand she missed on the side, and I can’t stop staring at it.
“Because they both have cheese, but one is crispy and one is soft. I think why you chose pretzels might say a lot about you.”
She nods. “Maybe you should’ve gone into psychology.”
We both laugh.
“You’re dodging the question.” I point my piece of pizza at her.
“I find the pretzel comforting, but I do like nachos. I just like nachos that are overfilled with meat, cheese, sour cream, guacamole. All the good stuff. It’s hard to handle that in an arena seat.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“Which do you prefer?” she asks.
“I would’ve gotten a hamburger or hot dog. I prefer protein.” I wink.
She giggles, falling back on her stool. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”
“It would be if we were talking about my meat.”
She laughs harder, and if we weren’t surrounded by so many people, I’d stand up, lean over this table, and kiss the living shit out of her because she’s so damn cute when she’s having fun.
After we finish our pizza, we end up walking through the area filled with carnival games. Every vendor screams at us to try to win a prize.
“Want me to win you a stuffed animal?” I ask her.
“Are you that confident you can win one? You know these games are fixed.”
I lead her toward some of the games, ignoring her judgment of my skills. Isn’t this what happens when you go to an amusement park? Her arms should be filled with prizes when we leave.
We end up at the basketball hoop, and I miss all three times.
Paisley says nothing to make me feel bad about it, but tension creeps into my chest.
Then we go over to the game where you have to throw a dart at a balloon. I pop one balloon, but that’s all. We walk away empty-handed—again.
“Let’s just go on another ride. We could do a water ride?” Paisley suggests.
There’s not a chance we’re leaving here until I win her something. “No, let’s do this bottle cap one.”
I lead her over to where I have to get a ring over a bottle cap. Paisley tries too and she gets more than I do, but neither of us win.
“One of these games is mine,” I say.
She winds her arm through mine. “I don’t need a cheap stuffed animal, Maksim. Let’s go enjoy the rest of our night.”
She’s crazy if she thinks I’m going to give up on this. One thing she needs to know about me—I’m a professional athlete and therefore competitive as hell. “No. There’s got to be one here that I can win.”
Stopping at the rubber ducks, Paisley hands money to the woman and looks at me. “Pick one.”
I give her a small glare that she has such little faith in me. This game is just luck, no skill involved.
“We’re wasting money doing all the games we can’t win,” she says.
I shrug. “I have the money to blow.”
She leans back and her eyes go wide. “Well, Mr. Moneybags, excuse me. Now, pick a duck.”
I grab a duck, hoping I’ve picked the one that will win the best prize. Unfortunately, I win a rubber duck. As in one that’s exactly like the one they’re using for the game.
“Way to go.” The woman working the game pats my hand as I accept the prize.
Paisley holds up the rubber duck in front of her. “What should we name her?”
“Who said it’s a her?” I ask.
“Impressive, Petrov. You sure know how to pick your ducks.” She hip checks me.
I can’t help but smile even though I feel like a loser who couldn’t actually win her anything.
“Yeah,” I say with a lack of enthusiasm. “Should we give it to some kid?”
Her brows furrow and her expression questions my audacity. “This is my prize. She’s mine to always remember tonight.”