Page 72 of Never Dance with the Devils

“You’ll figure it out, honey,” Mom assures me. “You always do.”

MADDOX

Today has been rough, but I have zero room to complain. All I’ve done is talk to my agent, Coach, and the team’s legal department. Kayla’s been dealing with so much more and we still haven’t heard from her yet.

The urge to hunt her down is weighing heavily on me. I need to make sure she’s okay, that’s all.

Earlier, Kyle called Riggs back, informing him that things went pretty well at the office so Kayla headed home to talk to their parents. But that was hours ago and while the idea of tracking her down there sounded crazy a while ago, it’s starting to sound reasonable and completely sane now.

Thankfully, Riggs is here to stop me. And I’m here to stop him from doing the same thing. So in the meantime, I’ve done about a thousand pushups and bodyweight squats, just to have something to do.

“Hello?” Kayla’s voice calls out as the door of her condo opens.

“She’s home,” we both announce, hopping up fromthe couch and rushing to greet her as she sets her bag on the foyer table.

“Hey, how’d it go? Is everything okay? What do you need?” The questions tumble from my lips too fast before I can stop them. I have zero chill where this woman is concerned.

Riggs just opens his arms, annoyingly silent, and Kayla falls into his embrace. With her cheek pressed to his chest, he runs a hand over her hair, soothing her as her eyes flutter closed. Just seeing her here with us, safe and sound, relaxes the knot that’s been coiled in my gut all day. And when Riggs presses a kiss to Kayla’s forehead and then turns her to me, letting me wrap her in my arms too, I finally feel at peace.

Much more calmly, I ask, “How’re you doing?”

“Exhausted, but happy,” she says, pulling back to smile weakly at me. I can see the toll the day has had on her in the set of her shoulders and the shadows in her eyes.

“Want to tell us about it?” Riggs has noticed the stress too and runs his hands over her shoulders, massaging the tension away. It’s like we can’t stop touching her, needing to reassure ourselves that she’s come back to us and today hasn’t ruined everything.

“Yes, but I have an idea for that.” Through the exhaustion, a light sparks in her eyes. She doesn’t just have a plan. She has a strategy. One she’s spent a fair amount of time calculating, determining what her best move should be. “Let’s get dressed.”

“Are you sure about this?”I glance at her in the backseat, ready to call this whole thing off if I see the slightest hesitation from her.

She meets my eyes and lays one hand on my shoulder and one on Riggs’s before nodding. “I’m hugging the enemy. Let’s go.”

I have no idea what that means, but she is strength and power personified in the most beautiful package I’ve ever seen, so I’m happy to go along with whatever she wants. I just really hope we’re doing the right thing.

The valet opens my door, his eyes popping out of his head when he sees me and then somehow going even wider when he sees Riggs climbing out of the driver’s seat. Putting on a bit of an act and acting like a bodyguard, I reach for the back door, opening it and helping Kayla out.

Riggs meets us, both of us taking our places on either side of Kayla to offer our elbows. She lays a graceful hand on our arms, completing the perfect picture of our relationship, and with all of the swagger we, or at least I, can muster, we walk into the restaurant together. This is as much a performance as any game I’ve ever played in.

“Reservation for Harrington,” I inform the hostess, whose poker face is decidedly better than the valet’s.

“Right this way, please.” We follow her to a table in the middle of the room and take our seats.

This restaurant is nothing like the bougie, businessmen’s steakhouse of last night. No, this is a place to see and be seen. Where the food is as photographable as the diners. Especially when the diners are me, Riggs, and Kayla. I feel eyes on us and force an affable smile, the one I use when I’m dead-ass tired and being forced to do a press conference, even after a loss.

“People are looking at us,” Riggs grumbles. I swear the only reason he’s comfortable on the ice is that he’s wearing a helmet and eye shield that semi-mask his face.

“Let them look,” I quip. “I want them to see how beautiful Kayla looks with us on either side of her.”

Kayla lays her hand on Riggs’s and leans into him. “That’s the point,” she tells him with a soft smile, her eyes dancing from his eyes to his mouth like she’s going to kiss him any second. Riggs thinks so too, quickly licking his lips in preparation, and Kayla’s sultry smile says she knows exactly what he’s thinking, but she leans back, sitting properly in her chair. “Proud is one thing, but I am a lady,” she teases. “At the moment.”

“You were no lady last night,” he growls, a teasing smirk of his own twisting his lips.

They’re flirting hard, and quite obviously. Not for show, but because it’s real between us. There’s no doubt about what this is—a date between three people.

By the time our food arrives, four brave souls have stopped by the table to ask for autographs or photos with me and Riggs. I sign a couple of things, Riggs politely refuses as per his personal policy, and we pose for a couple of pictures. Everyone has been kind, talking up last season and wishing us well for next, while casting knowing glances at Kayla.

But once we have food, they leave us alone, watching from afar.

“Is it always like this when you go out?” Kayla asks. “Autographs and photos and adoration?”