Page 50 of Overtime Goal (Buffalo Warriors Hockey #4)

RILEY

Two Years Later

Holy shit. I was really doing it. It was hard to believe things had come this far, that the day had finally arrived when I had to talk to him.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do it. Everything changed, sooner or later, and that included Logan and me.

After two years of trying our hardest to make things work, we’d come to a crossroads.

To be honest, I’d been waiting for him to say something, but he hadn’t.

Now, as hard as it might be, it was up to me to do what was best for both of us.

He would think it was best, right? The signs had been there for at least a year, and deep down, he had to know it.

He was twelve years older than me, and the coming season would be his last. Going into retirement meant he shouldn’t waste any more time.

Neither should I, honestly. At twenty-six, I should be getting on with things.

Thinking about it made my heart go nuts. It hammered like a warped drum solo on fast-forward. If I didn’t get this handled with Logan, the damn thing might implode. Great. Death by feelings.

Gabe and Brody’s driveway came up just in time. I swung in like a Formula 1 reject and screeched to a halt, at least by suburban standards. Really, I parked. I was still trying to catch my breath when someone knocked on the window. I rolled it down. “Hi, Gabe.”

“Riley.” He gave me an amused, good-natured smile. “Everything okay? You look like you’re ready to pass out.”

“Kind of feels that way. I was thinking things through.”

“What you’re going to do, you mean?”

I reached up to tug at my shirt collar, only to find it was wide open. So, I blew out a hard breath and broke into one of those stupid grins that looks like you can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “Yeah. You’d have thought I was psyching myself up to dump him.”

Gabe reached through the window and put a hand on my arm. “It’s okay, buddy, but try to calm down. I’ve been there, and believe me, you’ll live.”

I grabbed onto his hand like a lifeline. “Really? Because it’s hard to believe I’m about to do the craziest, scariest, most incredible thing of my life and ask Logan to marry me. Fuck, do you think he’ll say yes?”

As his smile grew into a grin, Gabe slowly shook his head. “You poor bastard. I’d say the chances are 99.9 percent. About the only way he’d say no is if he has a mental breakdown between now and tonight.”

I wiped sweat off my brow. That said a lot considering I’d had the AC on high all the way over. “Okay, thanks. This is just… you know… scary.”

“Yeah, yeah. Brody’s waiting with your last-minute instructions, so come on in and get your stuff.”

Ten minutes later, I had a cooler filled with food, a written version of the directions Brody had just told me, and the puck box.

I’d left everything with Gabe and Brody because I didn’t want Logan finding it at home.

Now, with only a few hours to go before the big event, it was time to take everything home.

Brody walked me to the door. “You’ve got this, bud. You cooked everything perfectly in our test run, so repeat what we did last weekend. Logan will be so impressed, he’ll be putty in your hands.”

Gabe came over and bumped my shoulder with his.

“When I was getting ready to ask Brody to marry me…” He gave Brody a fake glare, and then a grin.

“Before he beat me to it, that is, I was kind of a wreck. I don’t think there’s a cure for that, but try to relax enough to enjoy it.

This will be one of the most memorable nights you and Logan will ever have. ”

“I’ll do my best.” I looked at Brody, then at Gabe.

“You’re two of the best friends anyone could have.

Thanks for all your help.” Shit, I sounded more like a man on the way to the gallows than one who wanted to get married, so I exhaled and shrugged some of the tension out of my shoulders.

“Gabe, thanks for dragging Logan to the golf course on Saturday so Brody and I could practice.”

“Hey, you’re a good guy. I’ll sign on for covert missions with you anytime.”

Brody opened the door. “Let’s get you out of here so you can go cook dinner.”

“Drive carefully ,” Gabe said. “You’re a mess, and the way you careened in here, I don’t want you getting into an accident.”

Back home, I unpacked the cooler and barely got the puck box hidden before Logan came in. He kissed me, then looked around at all the food on the counter.

“What the hell, babe?” He held up the prime rib roast. “You know how much I love these, but I don’t know how to cook one.”

Feeling very proud, I couldn’t resist giving him a cocky grin. “Don’t worry. I know how. We’re having a special dinner.”

He set the roast down and studied me like a specimen from another planet. “You have trouble cooking burgers.”

“Trust me, babe.” I put my hands on his arms and looked into his eyes. “I know how much you like roast beef, and I want to do this for you.”

“All right.” To his credit, he was trying to sound convinced. “What’s the big occasion?”

I stepped back and tweaked his nose. “That, my dear Blue Eyes, is something to be revealed in due time. Meanwhile, go find something to do, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

Before getting to work, I checked Brody’s notes, making sure I remembered everything I had to do.

Garlic mashed potatoes, broccoli and bacon salad, and roasted asparagus would accompany the roast. I’d gotten rolls from our favorite bakery in the village, and Italian pastries for dessert.

Sfogliatellas and cornettos, just like we had every time we went to Positano.

I can do this!

I seared the roast in a big skillet exactly the way Brody and I had done on Saturday, thinking about the proposal the whole time. He’ll say yes, he’ll say yes, he’ll say yes. Right? Because if he didn’t, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. Say yes, Logan. Please say yes.

Once the beef was in the oven, I had a little time to spare.

Since I’d practically hyperventilated willing him to say yes, I needed to calm down.

Fortunately, I knew exactly what to do. I found Logan by the pool, looking good enough to die for in our favorite swimming attire: nothing.

Our eyes locked as I walked across the deck and kissed him, then sank to my knees, thankful for composite pool decking instead of cement.

Logan carded his fingers through my hair and held on while I blew him. With dinner to cook, I didn’t have time to pull out all the stops, but I soon had him moaning like a suffering man. Fortunately, there were no neighbors close by to hear him yelling when he came.

He collapsed onto a chaise and caught his breath while I sat on the edge and rubbed his belly. When he had his wits about him, I gave him my best hopeful look. “Return the favor?”

It didn’t take thirty seconds to get my shorts and underwear off, and I sprawled on the chaise while he got on his knees beside me.

“Make it quick,” I said. “Got to get back to the kitchen.”

He shot me a wicked grin. “Then I’d better get to work.”

A few minutes later, I was wrung out in the best way, still lying down while I waited for my heart rate to return to normal. I’d heard good sex beat the hell out of tranquilizers, and it must have been true because I felt much calmer when I headed back inside.

I ran through my speech while working on the side dishes.

Me, with a speech. Like I’d ever been good with words.

That’s why I’d written the damn thing out and drilled it into my head like a new addition to the Warriors’ playbook.

As bacon sizzled, I muttered the lines under my breath, tripping over half of them.

This would be the most important thing I’d ever say, and Logan deserved better than me sounding like a drunk auctioneer.

Keeping one eye on the roast, I put the salad together and mumbled through my speech again.

The next fifty years flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t stop picturing what might happen.

Before I knew it, the potatoes were done, and it was time to pull out the roast. Fuck, yes.

Perfect. Golden brown, juicy as hell. I was proud of making Logan’s favorite meal and acting like a normal, competent adult.

I slid the asparagus into the oven. Quick cook, no problem. Enough time to set the table on the deck and pop the wine. I’d saved the Barolo we’d bought the last time we were in Positano. Tonight was going to be romantic as hell. Everything was lined up and perfect.

And then the universe laughed. A godawful shriek split the air. What the fuck? The smoke alarm?

“Oh God!” I yelled, sprinting back into the kitchen. The food looked fine, thank Christ, but the smell hit me: smoke. Shit, the asparagus.

I yanked the oven door open and jumped back like it had growled at me. The goddamn thing was on fire. Actual flames.

Shit goddammit fuck, what the hell do I do?

I grabbed the big measuring cup off the counter, filled it, and hurled the water into the oven. Boom. Flames exploded like Mount Vesuvius, shooting out and catching the kitchen towels on the counter. Perfect. Just perfect.

Shit! Shit shit shit! I had one job. Cook a halfway decent meal, light some candles, get Logan on the deck, and deliver the big romantic speech I’d practiced a thousand times.

Should have been easy. Except apparently, I can’t be left alone in a kitchen.

One second, I have a beautiful meal ready, and the next, whoosh! Fire.

Need to call 911. Definitely. But where the hell is my phone?

I spun in circles like an idiot until Logan burst in like he was on a breakaway. One look, and he had the whole situation clocked. He headed for the sink.

“No, I already put water on it.” I shrieked, sounding like some damsel from a black-and-white disaster flick.

He ignored me, yanked open the cabinet, and pulled out the fire extinguisher. Oh, right. That thing. How the fuck had I forgotten we owned one?