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Chapter twenty-seven

Nate

“ P lease tell me this place serves more than kale chips,” I grumble, stepping inside with James right behind me.

"Don’t knock kale chips. They're rich in fiber and disappointment," James fires back, tugging at his collar. "And besides, you’re the one who scarfed two burritos before the game. What more do you need?"

"I need a steak."

"Yeah, me too." James says as we walk into the restaurant.

No more cameras. No more gear. Just the team and their people, packed around long tables that radiates warmth even from across the room. My shirt’s wrinkled, my legs are still humming from the game, but none of that matters. We won. We are in the Stanley Cup Finals and Mandy is here.

My eyes sweep across the dining room, and then I see her.

She's perched between Grace and Haley at a long table, talking to Coach Stephens and Lizzie like she belongs there. Her eyes light up when they find mine, and I cross the floor without looking away.

I lean down, kiss her head and whisper. "You really were the good luck charm."

Her cheeks flush, and I swear the rest of the room fades.

Grace moves down a chair and I slip into the empty seat beside Mandy, nodding greetings to the guys already there. Connor, Parker, James, Alex, Nina, and even Coach and Lizzie are with us. It's a full table of our people.

Dinner kicks off in true Acers style, rowdy, hilarious, and heartfelt. Grace is teasing Parker about his second-period revenge hit.

"He launched that guy into next week," she says proudly, raising her glass.

Parker shrugs. "Guy had it coming. You check me into the boards like that, you're getting planted."

Connor grins. "You looked like a human freight train. I think you left a crater."

James leans forward. "Connor, did you see your meme yet? It's all over Insta. You mid-fist-pump with your mouth open like you're about to inhale the whole arena."

Haley pulls out her phone. "Here it is!"

Laughter explodes around the table.

Mandy covers her mouth, laughing. "Okay, but it kind of looks like he’s trying to eat the puck."

"That was my warrior face," Connor says defensively. "It was intense. You try scoring under pressure while looking hot."

"Impossible for you," Parker deadpans.

We’re all howling when the server comes over to take drink orders. Mandy slides her hand into mine under the table.

Across from us, Allison and Ben are quietly sipping their drinks. I offer a warm smile as I lean across a bit. "Hey, Allison. It's been a while. You look great."

She returns it, maybe a little hesitant, but kind. "You too, Nate. This is my husband, Ben. Ben, this is Nate. We grew up in the same town."

Ben offers a handshake. "Good to meet you, man. Congrats on the win."

"Thanks," I say, shaking his hand firmly. "Appreciate you being here tonight."

It’s the first time I’ve seen Allison since high school. I let Mandy take the lead from there, the conversation light and easy as we ease into this new dynamic.

After the initial greetings and awkward pleasantries, conversation flows around them.

"He’s grown up a lot. He's different," Allison says quietly.

Mandy doesn’t flinch. "I have as well. And I’m not just your little sister anymore."

Allison nods, the corner of her mouth lifting. "I know. You’re better."

The two of them reach across the table and squeeze each other's hands, and something unknots between them. Closure. A long time coming.

James chooses that moment to raise his glass like a conductor with a champagne flute. "Alright, alright. Before we start throwing breadsticks at each other, I have a toast."

We all lift our glasses, bracing.

James clears his throat dramatically. "To the Acers! To sweat, blood, blocked shots, broken sticks, delayed flights, sketchy hotel pillows, and to Parker’s eyebrows, which somehow survive every game without moving."

Laughter erupts.

Parker deadpans, "They're insured."

Connor stands next, lifting his glass. "To the people in this room. To the ones who show up, even when they don’t have to. To the women who keep us grounded and make life off the ice worth something more."

Haley pretends to wipe a tear. "That was almost poetic. Who helped you write it?"

He kisses her cheek in reply.

Alex is next. He stands with his glass, tossing a wink Nina’s way.

“To the Acers, for being the most stubborn, ridiculous, lovable group of guys I’ve ever played with.

To Coach, for yelling at us just enough to scare us straight.

And to Nina, who somehow manages to fix our heads without smashing them in.

I don’t know what kind of wizardry that is, but I’m pretty sure it involves caffeine, patience, and blackmail. ”

Laughter ripples through the table, and Nina rolls her eyes with a fond smirk. Alex continues, a little softer now, "Seriously though, thank you for keeping me sane this year. This team wouldn’t be where we are without you."

He raises his glass higher. “To good people doing hard things, and who make it look easy.”

Coach Stephens gets up next, glass in hand. The tables quiet.

"This team has fought through hell this season. I’m proud of every damn one of you. Enjoy tonight. You earned it."

A round of heartfelt applause, clinks and murmured cheers follow.

Then it’s my turn. I push back from the table and lift my glass.

"To unexpected turns... and the people who make them worth it."

My gaze lands on Mandy. She smiles, eyes shining.

"Cheers," the table echoes.

Connor tips his glass toward me and says, "That was solid, Jones. Maybe you’ve got a future as a motivational speaker."

"Doubtful," I reply with a smirk, settling into my seat.

Grace is already halfway through a story about Parker getting stuck in a too-small jersey before the game. "He swore it shrunk in the wash, but I swear he just grabbed the wrong size. His biceps were trying to break free like the Hulk."

Haley nearly spits out her drink. "Please tell me someone got a picture."

"I did," Nina says calmly, holding up her phone.

Connor groans. "Group chat. Now."

Laughter swells again as phones buzz with incoming photos. Parker throws up his hands. "It was compression fit!"

"It was circulation cut-off fit," James quips. "I'm surprised you're still upright."

The server arrives with another round of drinks and a massive appetizer platter of wings, sliders, and some fancy-looking flatbread no one touches. The table leans in, arms overlapping, stealing bites and swapping stories.

Mandy leans close and murmurs, "This is wild. I’ve never seen anything like this."

"Team dinners after big wins? It's part roast, part therapy, and part feeding frenzy."

"You forgot full-contact comedy hour," she adds, just as Parker tries to reenact his hit on the boards using Connor as a prop.

Connor shoves him away, laughing. "Get off me, caveman. Save it for practice."

Across the table, Nina and Lizzie are talking about playoff beards and how most of the guys look like castaways.

"Mine’s distinguished," Alex says, stroking his chin. "Rugged. Mysterious."

"Yours looks like a raccoon gave up halfway through," James says.

Everyone bursts out laughing again.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Nina says, grinning. “It’s growing on me.”

“Good,” Alex fires back. “Because it’s definitely growing on me.”

More laughter. More teasing. More of everything that makes this crew a family.

I look around the table, Connor with his arm around Haley, Parker sneaking fries from Grace’s plate, James telling Lizzie a completely fabricated version of tonight’s game, and Mandy beside me, glowing from laughter.

This is a perfect night.

***

She doesn’t even make it two steps into the hotel room before I shut the door behind us and pin her with a look.

“You’ve been teasing me since dinner,” I say, stepping into her space.

Mandy lifts a brow, smug. “You mean breathing? Wearing jeans?”

“Yeah, those jeans and that sexy top,” I growl, brushing the back of my fingers against the curve of her hip, “should be illegal in public.”

She laughs softly, but her breath stops when I lean in, mouth at her ear.

“I spent the entire night imagining what you’re wearing underneath it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she breathes, tilting her head like she’s daring me.

I smile, slow and sharp. “Oh, I’m about to find out.”

She backs toward the bed with that little intentional sway in her hips. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“I don’t remember giving you permission,” she teases.

“Good,” I murmur, stalking after her. “Because I’m not in the mood to ask.”

Her knees hit the edge of the mattress and I step between her legs. My hands find her waist, then slide up her sides, thumbs brushing the edge of her bra beneath that shirt.

“Unless you're too tired,” I say, voice low.

She looks up at me, eyes dark and gleaming. “Not a chance.”

I dip my head and kiss the corner of her mouth, barely. A tease. Her lips part, but I pull back, grinning.

“You always this quiet when you’re turned on?” I murmur.

She narrows her eyes. “What makes you think I'm turned on?”

I grin and lean in close. "You really want me to believe you're not turned on right now?"

She lifts her chin, defiant but breathing a little too fast.

"That flush on your cheeks? The way your chest is rising like you just ran a mile?" I trail my fingers lightly down the front of her shirt. "And don’t even get me started on what’s pressing against this fabric, practically begging me to notice."

Her lips part, but she doesn’t say a word.

"Yeah," I murmur, brushing my thumb just beneath her collarbone, "I know exactly what you want."

She surges forward and grabs my shirt, pulling me down into a kiss that hits like a match to gasoline.

There’s nothing careful about it. It’s just heat, hunger, and the kind of raw want that makes you forget everything else.

Her hands are in my hair and I kiss her back just as hard, pushing into her until the only thing I can feel is her body, her mouth, her fire.

God, this girl. I press her down against the bed, hovering over her as I kiss her deeper, my tongue thrashing with hers, until we’re both breathing like we just finished a sprint.

I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes. “Let’s get naked.”

She grins like she’s been waiting for that line all night. I yank off all my clothes in one rough, eager motion and fall back onto the bed, bare and ready, with a cocky grin. "Your turn."

She starts slow, pulling her top over her head with a little shimmy that makes my blood roar. Her jeans come next, hips swaying as she peels them down her legs. She tosses them at me, and I catch them without breaking eye contact.

She’s down to her bra and panties, and holy hell, I’m gone. I prop myself up on my elbows, stroking myself slowly as I watch her with hooded eyes. "You have no idea what you do to me," I growl, my voice rough with need.

With a sultry smile, she unhooks her bra and lets it fall. My eyes are glued to every teasing move, every curve she reveals. Then she hooks her thumbs into her panties, dragging them down slowly, putting on a show just for me.

I growl, low and primal. "You’re gonna kill me."

She climbs onto the bed with a wicked grin. "Good. Then die happy."

Before I know it she takes my length in both her hands and strokes me without breaking eye contact.

I think I'm about to explode!

To keep myself from finishing before I get started, I flip her over and kiss her again, deeper this time, more deliberate. Then I start to move lower. Her neck. Her collarbone. Her chest. Her stomach.

"You like teasing," I murmur against her skin, "but so do I."

I kiss my way down her stomach, lingering at her hips, and glance up with a wicked smile.

"Tell me you want this," I murmur, my fingers already sliding lower, teasing just above the place that’s flushed and hot for me. "Because your cheeks say yes, your breathing screams yes… and what’s pressing against my hand right now? That’s begging for it, sweetheart. "

She writhes beneath me, breathless, impatient. "Nate..."

I finally give her what she wants. Soft, slow strokes with my tongue that make her hips lift off the bed. I build her up, then back off, then build again, keeping her just on the edge until she’s shaking.

When I finally let her fall, it’s with a cry that shoots straight to my core.

I rise up and grab a condom from my wallet on the nightstand. Her eyes are on me as I slide it on. Still breathing heavy. Still glowing.

I climb over her and kiss her hard, lining myself up and pressing inside slowly, inch by inch.

She gasps and clutches at my back.

"Deeper. Keep going.”

I move over her, taking my time, letting her feel everything. She wraps her legs around me, urging me deeper.

We find a rhythm that makes her cry out again. And then, just when I feel her tightening around me, I flip her onto her stomach and guide her up onto her knees.

“Nate,” she breathes. “Oh my God…”

I thrust into her from behind, gripping her hips and groaning her name like a prayer. She moans, wild and breathless, until she unravels for the second time.

I pull her up against my chest and turn us again, laying back so she’s on top.

“Your turn,” I rasp. “Ride me.”

She does. Slowly at first. Then harder. Her hands on my chest, her body a perfect rhythm over mine. Her breasts bounce with every movement, a hypnotic rhythm that makes me lose my damn mind. I watch her fall apart again with her head thrown back, skin flushed, and mouth saying my name.

I grip her hips and let go with her, every nerve on fire, every muscle tight until the only thing that exists is us.

Breathless. Tangled. Completely wrecked.

And as she collapses on top of me, her heart racing against mine, I realize one thing:

This girl…she’s it.

"You feel that?" I murmur, still breathless, my lips brushing her ear. "That was more than just sex. That was mine claiming yours."

Mandy smiles, lazy and satisfied. "Yeah. No going back now."

"Good," I say, pulling her closer with a smirk. "You think you’re getting away from me, Little Fields? Not a fucking chance."