A few weeks have passed, and I’ve dodged Paisley Pearce every chance I got. Luckily, we’ve had some out of town games, so it was easy to make up excuses for not meeting with her.
Aiden’s having a house party to celebrate Saige moving in with him—her idea, I’m sure—and Ford just texted me that he’s here to pick me up.
I head down the stairs of my beachfront house to find Nadiya walking through the door with Ford right behind her. He motions like he’s humping her from behind without her knowing and I roll my eyes at his immaturity.
Nadiya is a family friend from Russia, here finishing her schooling. My parents pushed me into letting her live with me because otherwise it wouldn’t be safe for her to come to the States. Believe me, the girl can handle herself. I’d be scared if I pissed her off.
“Nadiya, when are you going to admit I’m the one for you and go out with me?” Ford asks, opening our fridge and grabbing a water.
“Try never.” She plops her bag on the breakfast stool and grabs an apple from a bowl of fruit on the center island, sitting on a stool. “Where are you guys going?”
“Aiden’s,” Ford answers.
“And Saige’s,” I chime in. “Want to come?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m exhausted. All I want to do is to veg out on the couch and eat greasy food.”
“Cool. I’ll be home later.”
“I can join him, if you want a nighttime visitor,” Ford says, waggling his eyebrows.
I place my hand at the back of his head, leading him to the door. Nadiya laughs because she knows Ford and his antics by now. He’s not even close to her type, thank God.
We step out of my house and I push him toward his old-school Bronco. That’s one thing I like about Ford, he can be down to earth on occasion. He could’ve hired us a ride in some fancy car, but he’s chosen to drive us over.
“Stop hitting on her. You know it’s never going to happen. Besides, hasn’t your dick already got you in enough trouble?”
He laughs, but I hear the strain in it, and I feel like an ass for my comment. Ford climbs into his Bronco, a classic without the top. Somehow it suits Ford even though he could be driving around in a Ferrari. I think he only has the Bronco because he surfs whenever he can during the winter months.
He asks, “How do you live with her and not want to motorboat those tits?”
“I don’t think of her like that.”
And I don’t. Nadiya isn’t just a family friend. She was my best friend’s little sister. That line was drawn a long time ago. When Armen died, I took on his role as her protector.
“You’re lying.” Ford starts the truck and pulls out of my drive, heading toward Aiden’s.
Ford plays his rap music so damn loud there’s no having a conversation until we’re parked outside Aiden’s beach house.
“You’re gonna lose your damn hearing,” I say while shutting off the music.
He turns off the ignition and looks at me. “You’re fucking old.”
I flip him off and walk up to the front door, where I ring the bell.
“Why are you ringing the bell?” Ford asks, his hand on the doorknob.
“Because this is now Saige’s house and I’m sure Aiden wouldn’t be cool if the two of us walked in on her naked and riding him.”
The door opens.
“I’m surprised you rang the bell,” Aiden says.
I point at Ford. “He wasn’t going to. I had to explain that this is now Saige’s house too and you wouldn’t like him seeing the two of you fucking on the stairs or some shit.”
Aiden leads us toward the back patio while I roll my eyes at Ford.
“We don’t fuck before a party.”
I know that’s a bullshit lie, and we both raise our eyebrows at him.
“Just be careful in the kitchen. It’s Saige’s favorite,” Aiden jokes, and we both groan.
“So where is the missus?” I ask, taking a beer from the tub in the back patio and sitting in a lawn chair.
“She’s getting ready.”
“Please tell me you didn’t invite everyone from the Fury?” I ask. “Aka not Paisley the shrink.” I’ve dodged her this long, I don’t want to get cornered on what is supposed to be an enjoyable evening.
He laughs. “I’m not entirely sure who Saige invited. I doubt she would have. Although she did invite Jana, and I heard those two are tight.”
Jana is Mr. Gerhardt’s daughter, and ever since Aiden’s game came back, he’s back to being the son Mr. Gerhardt never had. He and Saige were invited over for dinner last week and if the rumor mill is right, Jana and Saige hit it off.
Ford knocks his knee against mine. “Why don’t you just make up some bullshit story? Give her some ‘woe is me’ past that’s completely made up. Let her think she’s helping you, and move on?”
I still for a second. That’s not a bad idea. Kind of what I was doing last time, except I used my time to hit on her with the hopes she’d grow uncomfortable and demand an end to the sessions. I’m not sure how convincing I could be if I was lying about some fake sordid past.
“She’s smart. She’ll probably see right through it,” I admit.
“Oh please, you just lead them where they already want to go.” Ford shakes his head at me. “I’ve been going to shrinks my entire life. Take me. Classic rich boy, so my shrink has me pegged before I even enter and thinks I have daddy issues.”
“You do have daddy issues,” Aiden deadpans.
Ford ignores the comment. “So I tell her a few things my dad demanded of me, even making shit up like he was my baseball coach—I mean, as if a man who runs a multimillion dollar company had time to coach his son’s baseball team. Come on. Sooner or later, she’s hanging on to every last piece of bullshit I’m telling her.”
I don’t say anything, and the doorbell ringing interrupts us.
“I’ll be back,” Aiden says.
The more I think about Ford’s plan, the more I think it’s my only hope to get out of these sessions without allowing her to try to turn me into a crying mess on her couch. I hate lying, but in certain circumstances, I have no choice. This just might be one of them.
“Tweetie!” Ford hollers as our left winger and his girl, Tedi, walk out and join us on the patio.
I’m at the food table when Paisley’s shoulder brushes mine. I glance over and her dark curly hair blows in the wind. Her caramel-colored eyes meet mine.
“Hey, Maksim,” she says.
“Paisley.” I pick up some of the pig and put it on my plate.
She eyes my plate, then she’s staring at the table as though she can’t decide what she wants to eat. I guess there’s no time like the present.
“So, I was thinking…” I start while she places some veggies on her plate.
“Is that an unusual act for you?” Before I can respond, she laughs and her hand lands on my shoulder. “I’m kidding.”
The fact she couldn’t keep the joke going for longer than ten seconds says she’s either uncomfortable in front of me or not used to being a jokester.