Page 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

RILEY

It’s a good thing I didn’t die the night of the accident.

If I did, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to see the real heaven that is Lexi in her gold dress.

My tongue’s been hanging out of my mouth for the better part of two hours, and every time she sways her hips, I’m close to bolting out of the hotel ballroom for some fresh air.

I knew I was attracted to her, but after tonight?

I’m fucking ruined .

A stronger man would try to put some distance between themselves and her. They’d do everything they could to get her out of their head because they know nothing will ever happen between them—she said so herself—but I’m the weakest, most pathetic motherfucker in existence.

I’m not going anywhere.

“I can’t believe Emmy bid on fucking Grant ,” Maverick grumbles, pulling me from my daydreams of dark hair wrapped around my fist and the soft moans she lets out right before she comes. He glares at our second line right winger and scowls. “I’m her husband .”

“Who is clearly not jealous at all,” I say. “This is totally normal behavior.”

“This is nothing. Cap leveled that guy who plays for Toronto last season after he found out he liked one of Emmy’s Instagram photos.” Hudson laughs. “Obsessed is an understatement.”

“Maybe she’s asking Grant to put on a mask and chase her through the woods,” I offer, and Maverick gasps. “You know he likes dark romances, and that’s a pretty common scene.”

“She wouldn’t . He wasn’t included on her orgy list!”

“I’m missing something,” Hudson says.

“You and I are on Emmy’s orgy list. There was something about a dream,” I tell him. “I didn’t get any details.”

“Don’t ever tell me them if you do. Em is like my sister—I don’t need to be thinking about her like that.” Hudson grimaces. “No offense, Mav.”

“Same,” I add. “I also don’t need Mavvy kicking my ass. I’m not as fast as I used to be, and there’s no way in hell I can outrun him.”

“The only one who needs to run is Grant fucking Everett.” Maverick stands and shoves his chair back. “I’m going to kill him if he touches her.”

Hudson and I watch him storm away, and my former defense partner laughs.

“How has he not figured out Emmy does this on purpose?” he asks. “It’s so funny to watch.”

“He’ll learn one day.” I scan the room and my eyes immediately fall on Lexi. She’s like a goddamn magnet for my attention. She’s standing in the middle of the dance floor, arms above her head while she moves to the rhythm of an upbeat song playing from the DJ’s speakers. “I might go grab a drink. You want anything?”

“I’m good.” Hudson’s eyes follow mine, and he hums. “Maybe you’ll find your way to the dance floor. Rumor has it the DJ is easily persuaded to put on a slow song if you slip him some money. At least, that’s what Liam and Maverick told me.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know, Mitchy. Why would you?”

I watch Lexi spin, that goddamn dress a flurry of tempting gold and sparkles and weakening self-restraint, and I leap out of my chair as fast as my leg will let me.

“I’ll be back,” I say.

“No, you won’t,” he answers with a smirk. “Have fun.”

I dodge a group of our top-tier season ticket holders who look like they want to ask me a dozen questions. I autograph a team photo for someone who tells me they’re going to auction it off to raise money for the Boston Marathon and bump my knuckles against Ethan’s. I only stop to slip the DJ a wad of cash—it could be a hundred dollars or a thousand, I’m not paying a lick of fucking attention—and make my way onto the dance floor just as the beat slows and the lights dim.

“Hey,” I say, and Lexi spins to face me, a smile pulling on her lips.

“Hi,” she says. “I thought you might’ve left.”

“Not yet. I figured I needed to cash in on that dance you wanted me to save you.”

“Perfect timing. You didn’t have anything to do with the song choice, did you?”

“Me?” I touch my glasses frames and shrug. “No. I’ve been with Hudson and Maverick this whole time.”

“Interesting. Guess it’s fate then.”

“Guess so.” I offer her my hand. “My leg is killing me from standing all night so I can’t promise any good moves, but I’m going to do my best.”

“We can just stand here.” Lexi’s fingers fold around mine. Her other palm rests on my shoulder and I drop my left hand to her waist, my fingers bunching in the soft material of her gown. “I’m not picky when it comes to ballroom dancing.”

“Good to know.” Shooting pain races up my right thigh, but it’s easy to ignore when she closes the distance between us and smiles from ear to ear. “Have any other drunk finance bros bothered you?”

“Why is it always finance bros?” She laughs, her head dropping back and her shoulders shaking. “Why can’t it be a… a scientist? Or a meteorologist? Someone interesting.”

“Do you know a lot of meteorologists?”

“I follow this woman down in Florida who has a weather show. She’s been in tornadoes and hailstorms, and she’s a total badass.”

“I didn’t know you had an affinity for weather, Lex.”

“I don’t. Just women who are breaking glass ceilings.”

I stroke my thumb over the curve of her hip and her breathing stutters. “I meant what I said earlier. You look fucking gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I’ve always liked dressing up. I try to find ways to make what I’m wearing cute—even if it’s team-issued gear—and I love that more and more clothing companies are designing sports jackets and game day outfits for women that go beyond a simple T-shirt.”

“You pull off team-issued gear well. Meanwhile I’m over here in a long-sleeved Stars shirt looking silly.”

“You do not look silly.”

“I kind of do.” I smile. “I didn’t mind dressing up for games, but now, it’s a pain. Pants are difficult to wear these days because my prosthetic makes my right leg a different size from my left. And don’t get me started on shoes.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a whole thing with my feet.”

“I like feet,” she says.

“I didn’t know that was a fetish of yours,” I tease, and she smacks my shoulder. “Kidding. My right foot is smaller than my left.”

“It is?”

“Yup. And it doesn’t bend and flex like my left foot does. I’ve had to rebuy the shoes I love in a half size down so my foot doesn’t slip out.”

“What do you do with the shoe you don’t wear?” Lexi asks.

“Nothing. I can’t bring myself to throw them away, and donation centers won’t take a single shoe. It would be cool if there was a foundation for amputees that let you find the sizes you need without wasting the other half of the pair.”

“Maybe you can start one,” she suggests.

“I don’t have a ton of free time.” I laugh. “My plate is kind of full right now.”

“True.” Lexi’s hand moves from my shoulder to my back, and she rubs her palm down my spine. “You just grimaced. Are you hurting right now?”

“A little. I don’t want to lose out on my dance though.”

“We could’ve danced in the chairs.” She pauses and giggles. “Okay. That makes it sound like we’re at a strip club.”

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve never been.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Not my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

You.

Naked and on top of me.

“Somewhere that’s not so, ah, public?” I clear my throat. The tips of my ears are on fire, and I shrug again. “I’m selfish, I guess. I want things that are just for me. I want to know I’m special.”

“Such a romantic. You are special, Riley. I hope you know that.”

“So are you,” I say.

Comfortable silence nudges its way between us. We keep dancing, and at some point, she rests her head on my chest. I wrap my arm around her when she shivers, trying to warm her up, and her sigh is content and on the cusp of happy.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” she whispers.

“So am I. You would’ve had to dance with Ethan, and that’d be a travesty.” I press my thumb into her nape, rubbing the tension I find there, and Lexi sighs again. “Are you staying in DC for Christmas?”

“Yeah. My mom has a cruise booked with some of her girlfriends, so I’ll be ordering Chinese and watching It’s a Wonderful Life all day. What about you?”

“I’ll be in town. I’m nervous to fly commercial for the first time during the holidays to Chicago to visit my parents. I’m going to set off all sorts of alarms, but my dad says that’s the best part. The look in people’s eyes when he tells them he has to be pat down because of a metal leg is always priceless.”

“Wait. Your dad has a prosthetic leg too? What happened?”

“What are the odds, right? He used to be a firefighter, and he was severely burned after rescuing a family from their home. That was, hell, fifteen years ago? Maybe twelve? Being an amputee is second nature to him now, but I’m still learning.”

“And you’re doing a damn good job.” Lexi pulls away and puts both hands on the center of my chest. “He’s going to be so proud of you when you see him next. How could he not be?”

Compliments from her mean more than they do from anyone else. It might be because she doesn’t give them out freely; she’s not Piper, who is a constant a ray of sunshine and loves to be nice to everyone.

Lexi is tougher to crack. She’s a little jaded, sharper around the edges, and it’s becoming more and more clear she has walls up to protect herself because of a situation that’s happened in the past. There’s something holding her back, and I doubt I’ll ever figure out what it is.

“Thanks,” I murmur. “I thought about not coming tonight. Lots of people, lots of physical activity. But I’m glad I did.”

“Why’s that?” she asks.

“Because I got to see you,” I say, and her eyes meet mine. “I’m always glad when I get to see you.”

“Has today been a good day?”

“Yes,” I say without thinking. The word comes naturally when she’s around. “It has.”

“I’m glad. You deserve all the good days, Riley.”

We dance together for another song, only pulling away when the pain in my leg becomes distracting. After, we sit at a table and laugh at my teammates, trying to gauge who’s had the most to drink and who will be the one to shut the party down. When Piper invites her over for a sleepover, Lexi squeezes my shoulder and tells me she’ll see me on Monday for another one of our sessions.

I watch her go, a single thought echoing in my brain.

Funny how all my good days include her.