Page 37

Chapter 37

Hannah

Ralph stares blankly at me in the mirror from where she’s sitting on the edge of my bed, so I stare right back. “What are you looking at?”

She meows grumpily at me and walks right over all the clothes I’ve laid out, tried on, and discarded. It’s like she’s silently judging me for being so picky about what to wear, and I guess I don’t blame her now that the majority of my closet is strewn across my bed, but this is a big decision.

I reach out to scratch her head, and she instantly starts purring. “I know, it’s so rude of me not to leave a space on the bed for you, but we’re in a crisis right now, girl. Declan’s mom is coming to town, so I can’t wear just anything.”

Ralph meows like she agrees with me, so I pat her head and sink down on the bed next to her. She immediately claims my lap, still purring, and I can’t stop myself from petting her. It’s exactly the kind of comfort I need right now because I’m feeling unreasonably nervous. This charity thing isn’t really that big of a deal for me—I go to these kinds of press events for the Aces with my father all the time—and I shouldn’t be so anxious about meeting Declan’s mom since we aren’t officially an item or anything, but I’m still freaking out a little.

She’s already been here for a couple of days, and I wanted to meet her at the last Aces game, but I was busy with a yoga class and couldn’t go. So tonight will be the first time I’m meeting his mom, and even though we aren’t “official,” I still really want to make a good impression. We only get one shot at a first impression, and just because Declan and I aren’t public or even official, that doesn’t mean it will stay that way.

I end up settling on a simple black dress since I’m not sure what to expect—and because it’s one of the few pieces of dress clothing that isn’t currently coated in Ralph’s fur. She isn’t happy about me leaving, and she protests loudly the entire time I’m putting the rest of my clothes away, but as soon as I give her a little bit of food on my way out the door, she seems to forget that there was ever a problem.

I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror one last time, and nod in satisfaction. I think I look fine, and like I didn’t overdo it, but I just hope I’m not underdressed for this thing. My hands smooth the folds of the dress, and when I’m satisfied, I grab my purse on the way out the door and lock it behind me.

I don’t know why I didn’t think to look up the address ahead of time, but when I pull into the parking lot a few minutes later, I realize that the charity event is being held at a local ice-skating rink. I guess that makes sense for an event featuring hockey players, but for whatever reason, I assumed this was going to be a more formal affair. And a twinge of self-consciousness creeps into the corners of my brain about being overdressed.

Thankfully though, when I climb out of my car, I spot my parents and several of the Aces heading into the building together, so I hurry to catch up with them. My mother sees me coming and waves, but as I get closer to her, the tingle of self-consciousness I was feeling before turns into a knot in my stomach as I realize I’m dressed way nicer than everyone else.

Oops. Shit.

“Hi, sweetheart. You look lovely,” my mother says as she wraps an arm around me. She probably means it, but I still can’t help interpreting it as a jab. “But I think you might freeze in here,” she adds in a whisper.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tell her with a confident smile when we break apart, although I’m honestly already feeling a little cold—and we haven’t even gone inside yet. But I’ll just have to deal with it, because it’s too late to pick another outfit now.

What I’m wearing doesn’t matter. I’m here for the team. It’s going to be fine .

I repeat that to myself as I follow the group into the building. As we pass through the entrance, my eyes catch on a banner hanging from the rink’s boards that reads “Skate with the Aces,” and I inwardly cringe. It’s not just the team here—it’s families and kids, all decked out in casual clothes perfect for skating.

My gaze drifts across the ice where several families are already gliding around, some with natural grace and others wobbling along. A little girl looks my way curiously before being distracted by something more interesting, and I can’t blame her. I must look like I’m headed to a cocktail party rather than a casual meet-and-greet at an ice rink.

A chill from the ice washes over me, and I rub my bare arms, wishing I’d known to dress more appropriately. My dress might look great, but it’s doing nothing to protect me from the frigid air. One thing is for certain—it’s going to be a long, cold evening.

As I scan the rink again, my eyes land on Declan standing near the ice on the opposite side of the space with a woman I assume is his mom. The moment he spots me, his expression changes—something hungry and intense flashes across his face that makes my pulse quicken. He leans down to say something to the woman beside him before making his way in my direction. He casually greets my father and some of the other Aces as he passes, but his focus stays on me.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Declan asks when he reaches me, his low voice sending a pleasant shiver through me. He gestures to a semi-secluded nook away from the ice rink, and I follow, conscious of putting some distance between us and prying eyes. Once we’re relatively alone, he reaches up and tugs his jersey off with one hand, then holds it out to me.

“Even from across the room, I could tell you were cold,” he says. “Here. This should help.”

My eyes dart from him to where my parents stand and back again, my heart racing. Being alone with him feels risky enough—wearing his jersey would be like announcing to everyone that there’s something between us. But the thought of being wrapped in something of his, something that carries his scent and name, is undeniably tempting.

“Come on, hummingbird,” Declan encourages, ducking his head a little. “You’re shivering. Just put it on. It doesn’t have to mean anything else.”

I bite my lip, torn between wanting to accept his offer and worrying about the consequences. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea. There are a lot of people here, and I don’t want to draw attention.”

Declan’s gaze travels slowly down my body and back up, leaving heat in its wake. “They’re already staring at you. And I can’t handle every guy in this place looking at you with that dress clinging to your curves.”

The possessiveness in his voice floods me with warmth that chases away the chill. For a moment, I forget we’re in a crowded arena. All I see is Declan and the intensity in his amber-flecked brown eyes. My fingers itch to reach for the jersey, but caution holds me back. “I don’t know…”

He moves a little closer, his body radiating heat as he narrows the space between us. His breath caresses the bare skin of my shoulders.

“Either you can put it on,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, “or I can put it on for you. Don’t think I won’t. Believe me, I’d love to stake my claim on you in front of every person here, especially with the way they’re all looking at you.”

The burning look in his eyes tells me he means every word. My breath catches as I imagine his hands on me, adjusting the jersey over my shoulders in full view of everyone. The thought sends a thrill through me, even though I know it would only invite questions I’m not ready to answer.

With a quick glance around, I take the jersey from his hand, my fingers brushing against his in the process. “Fine. You win.”

The fabric is soft and warm as I slip it over my head, and as I tug down the fabric so that the oversized jersey drapes over my dress like a tunic, the raw desire and satisfaction in Declan’s eyes makes my skin tingle.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “And if anyone comments on you wearing my number, you can just tell them I was being a gentleman and helping you stay warm.”

My stomach flutters. “Funny,” I whisper back. “Because the way you’re looking at me, I have a hard time believing you’re thinking gentlemanly thoughts.”

His eyes flash. “Oh, hummingbird. You have no idea.”

He steps away from me with what looks like some effort, then retrieves another jersey for himself from his bag and tugs it on before returning to my side.

“Now…” He grins. “Are you ready to meet my mom?”

I nod, even though inside I’m more than a little anxious, especially now that I’m wearing his jersey and will probably have to walk past my parents and the entire team. There’s no doubt in my mind that they all know it’s Declan’s mom, and that means there’s likely going to be questions about why I’m wearing his jersey and why he’s introducing me to his mom at all.

But like he can read my mind—or more accurately see the anxiety all over my face—Declan guides me the long way around the rink to his mom so we can dodge them all. The gentle pressure of his hand at the small of my back steadies me, and it helps knowing that I won’t directly cross paths with my father or the rest of the team.

Anyway, like Declan said, we can always say that he was just being a gentleman, making sure the coach’s daughter stayed warm.

By the time we reach his mom, my heart rate has calmed enough that I at least feel like I can hold myself steady. The last thing I want to do is be a bumbling idiot in front of this woman, even if she doesn’t know that her son and I are sort of together.

Thankfully, she smiles warmly as we approach and holds out a hand to me. I can’t help noticing the way her hand trembles as she holds it out in the air for me to take. I smile as I take it gently.

“Mom, this is Hannah,” Declan says. “She’s Coach Dunaway’s daughter.”

“Ah! So lovely to meet you.”

As Declan’s mom holds my hand in hers, her eyes briefly dart back and forth between me and Declan, almost like she’s wondering if something is going on between us that we haven’t been totally honest about—and she wouldn’t be wrong.

My stomach flutters.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say, trying to hide my nerves.

But when she releases my hand with an easy smile, I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe I was just imagining the curious look she gave the two of us. We’ve been doing a good job of keeping things secret and staying under the radar, so she’d have no reason to suspect anything.

My father’s sharp whistle pulls my attention away from Declan’s mom, and when we all glance that way, I see him waving all of the Aces players over.

Declan runs a hand through his dark hair. “I guess that’s my cue. Gotta get to work. I’ll leave you two to get to know each other. Play nice now,” he says with a playful wink and walks over to the rink’s entrance to swap his shoes for ice skates with the rest of the team.

Unsure of what else to do, I walk with his mom closer to the boards.

“He’s doing so well on the team already,” I tell her, searching for a neutral topic to break the ice. And what mother doesn’t want to hear something flattering about their kid? She turns and smiles at me.

“I’ve heard. But I’m not surprised. When something matters to him, he gives it everything he has,” she says, and I can’t tell if her words are as loaded as they sound or if I’m just hearing what I want to hear. “That’s exactly what makes him such a great son. He’d do anything for me.”

Hearing that warms my heart because I’ve already seen just how true it is. “I bet. He’s always had good things to say about you, so you two must be close.”

His mom chuckles. “Not close enough, apparently. He’s so protective of me that he’s trying to talk me into moving here. I know he’s worried about me living on my own as my Parkinson’s evolves, but I’m managing.”

I hesitate, unsure what to say or if it’s my place to say anything at all.

Admittedly, I don’t know a whole lot about her condition—no more than I know about the circumstances of her living situation back home—but if Declan is worried enough that he’s been talking to her about relocating here, then I’m assuming he has a good reason for that beyond just missing his mom.

I turn to her, choosing my words carefully. “Well, not that I’m trying to talk you into it or anything, but for what it’s worth, Denver is a great city. I was born and raised here, and the beautiful nature and mountain-fresh air makes it hard to imagine living anywhere else,” I say, and his mom smiles but doesn’t say anything. “But I don’t think medical stuff is the only reason he wants you here. He misses you a lot too.”

“He told you that?” she asks, her expression softening.

“He didn’t have to,” I reply. “Anyone can hear it in his voice whenever he talks about you. It’s all over his face too.”

His mom’s gaze drifts off to the ice to watch Declan skating with one of the kids. Surprising no one, he’s a complete natural with kids, and they seem to love him.

My heart does a little flip when I realize that he’s not just skating with anyone—he’s skating with a little girl in a sparkly pink helmet who looks absolutely thrilled to be on the ice with him. It’s clear that she’s having a blast, which makes me smile. He tends to have that effect on people.

When my eyes float back to his mom, her smile has faded away, but I notice it slowly coming back, almost like she’s working through some private thought in her head. Declan finishes a lap around the ice with the little girl, then drops her back off with her dad before he slides to a stop on the other side of the boards in front of us.

“Thanks for waiting while I hang out with the families. How are you two getting along?” he asks, his eyes darting between us with a hopeful expression. “Having a good chat?”

His mom gives him a warm smile. “Oh, of course. Hannah and I are getting along wonderfully. She’s been telling me all about Denver.”

Declan raises an eyebrow, looking pleasantly surprised. “Really? And what do you think?”

His mother’s eyes warm as she shakes her head and reaches out to put her hand on his forearm with a gentle squeeze.

“I think you might be getting your wish. Maybe those mountains are starting to call my name after all.”