Page 11 of Slap Shot (Blades Hockey #5)

Daisy

¨So, is this officially our first date?〃

Westonˇs question is so unexpected that I fumble the nacho on the way to my mouth and end up with guac and cheese smeared across my cheek. Itˇs warm and kind of gooey. My stomach revolts at the sensation as I grab a spare napkin to wipe my dinner away from my face. ¨Ugh, warn a girl first, would you?〃

Bathed in the cool tones of dusk, Westˇs eyes crinkle with humor. ¨Thought proposing to you was all the warning you needed.〃

¨Touche. But here I was thinking that all you needed was a little bit of time to realize that we really, really donˇt need to get married. I mean, itˇs me and itˇs you . Weˇre friends, and friends donˇt〃

¨If Iˇm marrying anyone, Hall, itˇs gonna be you.〃

Do you hear that? Itˇs the sound of my stupid heart flopping around like a beached whale inside my chest.

Itˇs dreadfully unfair that I didnˇt fall for an insensitive asshole who canˇt be bothered to even acknowledge my existence. No, I just had to fall head over heels for Weston Fucking Cain, the single most romantic human being to ever existeven when heˇs not even trying.

I shove another nacho into my mouth and chew grumpily.

After West called about takeout, he made a quick run to his favorite restaurant in my neighborhooditˇs one of the few places that he feels comfortable eating from on the night before a gamewhile I headed home to grab my picnic blanket as well as a few odds and ends for our meal. The green space near my building isnˇt so much a park as it is a gardenitˇs narrow and winds down the street with benches and artfully arranged patches of grassbut we always make do.

Lifting my gaze, I take a moment to watch West while heˇs otherwise preoccupied.

Heˇs beautiful.

Itˇs not even his looks, exactly, which are more ruggedly handsome than anything else, but just him his essence, aura, whatever you want to call it. Ask West and heˇll say that he can be anti-social, which I guess is true, but itˇs only because heˇs not one to play games anywhere but on the ice. Iˇve always figured that his blunt approach to life is a side effect of spending too many years trying to parse out his parentsˇ intentions through all their bullshit. West is nothing like them. If he says something, itˇs because he believes it with his entire being.

Which means that heˇs not just blowing steam up my ass about the marriage thing. And thatˇs a crazy thing to think aboutthat he actually wants to do this.

Softly, I ask, ¨What if you regret it?〃

West stops twirling his pasta around with his fork to peer up at me through thick blond lashes. ¨I could never regret you, Daisy.〃

¨You could, though.〃 Pushing my takeout container out of the way, I bring my knees into my chest and wrap my arms tight around my shins. Thereˇs a crisp bite in the air tonight and I forgot to grab a jacket from my apartment. ¨You could meet someone a month from now. Really fall for them, you know? And then, whoopsie, suddenly you remember that you have a wife waiting for you at home.〃

West pushes his own container aside. Lifting both arms, he takes hold of the nape of his sweatshirt in one firm hand before drawing the material up and over his head. My heart thuds way too loudly in my ears when he offers me the hoodie. ¨Here,〃 he murmurs. ¨Youˇre cold.〃

Heˇll never get it back if I put my greedy paws on it.

My closet is spilling over with clothes that Iˇve commandeered from West over the years. T-shirts. Sweatshirts. Even a pair of sweatpants that I need to triple-roll at the hips. Because heˇs not a dick, he never mentions the fact that Iˇm a desperate, little thief. And yes, fine, I admit itsometimes I like to pretend that he lets me keep whatever I want just so he can see me wearing his clothes.

Still, I hesitate for a beat. ¨Are you sure?〃

His gaze is unwavering when I tentatively dance my fingers over the soft fabric. ¨Take it, Hall. I know you want to.〃

You have no idea what I want .

With a tight swallow, I accept the offering and drop my knees into a cross-legged position. The moment I draw the material down over my head, Iˇm enveloped in his woodsy scent. Clutching the neck of the sweatshirt in my palms, I bury the lower half of my face in the fabric, breathing him in. We can pretend that the shiver twining its way down my spine is from the chill in the air, canˇt we? Only I need to know the truth.

Looking none worse for wear, despite the fact that heˇs now in only a thin T-shirt, West leans his weight back on his hands and stretches out his long, jean-clad legs beside our food. Dark blond hair falls messily across his forehead as he gets comfortable. ¨Back to the conversationI would never say whoopsie .〃

I roll my eyes. ¨Okay, fine. I take it back.〃

¨Also, I would never need to think about my wife waiting at home because sheˇd be right there with me.〃

¨Are you really suggesting a threesome right now, West? Weˇre not even a twosome yet.〃

Itˇs his turn to roll his eyes. ¨You know the problem with marrying your best friend? I know all of your tells, which means that I know you only revert to sarcasm when youˇre feeling off-kilter about something.〃

My throat goes dry. So okay, yeah, heˇs not exactly wrong about that. Pathetically, I try to move the conversation along. ¨But Iˇm always sarcastic? If you think about it, itˇs kind of my natural habitat.〃

¨Daisy.〃

I bury myself in the depths of his hoodie. ¨Yes, Weston?〃

¨Donˇt hide from me.〃 The fading light slides over his frame as he shifts his weight, his knees falling open as they press into the blanket, his ass in those well-worn jeans resting back on his heels. His big hands drop onto his spread thighs. With him down on his haunches like that, heˇs suddenly taller than me again and I have to lift my chin to meet his gaze. ¨Weˇre in this togetherhave been in this togetherand thereˇs nothing I wonˇt do for you. You want me down on one knee? Iˇll do it. You want me to never mention this again? I wonˇt. But youˇve got to give me something. Tell me whatˇs running through your head.〃

I love you.

I love you so much and the idea of you down one knee for a proposal might end me.

¨We need rules,〃 I blurt out.

He tilts his head. ¨Rules for what?〃

¨Marriage. Because itˇs not real, you know?〃

His brow furrows in confusion. ¨If we get to the part where we say, ˉI do,ˇ then itˇs pretty fucking official.〃

¨Yes, but . . .〃 Releasing my grip on Westˇs sweatshirt, I reach for my phone. I have no idea what the plan is until Iˇm pulling up my reading app and typing ¨marriage of convenience〃 into the search bar. Satisfied with the results, I thrust the device at him. ¨Think of it like a prenup.〃

¨We donˇt need one of those. Whatever is mine is yours.〃

I donˇt know whether to laugh or cry, and the end result is a weird bubble of sound that gets stuck in my throat. ¨Itˇs not really a prenup about money or possessions, itˇs more like . . . Like a contract that protects our friendship.〃 Worry winds itself into a knot, and I swallow, hard, to make it disappear. ¨If we do this, that comes first. It has to or I wonˇtI wonˇt say yes, West. You mean too much to me.〃

¨You mean everything to me, too.〃 With his head still bent, he scrolls through the list of romance novels. Iˇm not sure if he actually stops to read any of the blurbs but after a minute or so, he sets my phone down beside his abandoned pasta bowl and folds his arms across his chest. ¨Okay. Fine. Rules to protect our friendship. Whatˇs first?〃

¨No kissing.〃

Somehow, his brows tick even higher, arching toward his hairline. ¨You came up with that one fast.〃

A furious flush creeps into my cheeks. ¨I thoughtI meanI just think that we shouldnˇt blur any boundaries.〃

His gaze drops to my lips . . . and he doesnˇt look away.

No, he watches as they part on a shivery breath, and he gives me his undivided attention when I subconsciously bite down on the plush cushion of my bottom lip. I want to pry into his mind and unravel all of his thoughts because for the life of me, I canˇt tell what heˇs thinkingif heˇs wondering what I might taste like or counting his lucky blessings that he wonˇt ever need to press his lips to mine.

But then he murmurs, ¨A kiss on our wedding day,〃 and my pulse somersaults into overdrive. In the failing light, his mossy green eyes look nearly black as they meet mine. ¨Rule number onewe kiss on our wedding day but not again after that.〃

I can barely feel my fingers theyˇve gone so tingly with shock.

Kissing West .

One kiss. Just one. And then never again.

¨Should I be writing these down?〃

He doesnˇt acknowledge the new rasp in my voice, just lifts one shoulder in response. ¨Depends on how many rules you think we need.〃

¨Not that many.〃

He gestures to my phone. ¨Those books said something about ˉonly one bed.ˇ〃

Yes, they probably did, and now I would like nothing more than to fling myself off the nearest cliff. With any luck, Iˇll die from fright before I even hit the water. ¨Weˇll sleep in separate rooms.〃

¨Hate to break it to you, but your place doesnˇt have separate rooms. Itˇs got one room with one bedunless you want me sleeping on that tiny loveseat you call a couch.〃

The banter is familiar, and I grab onto the olive branch as if itˇs a lifeline. ¨It is a couch. Just because youˇre too tall for it doesnˇt mean that it isnˇt part of the couch family tree.〃

¨A good friend would have bought something bigger.〃

¨A better friend wouldnˇt make me feel guilty that the couch I purchased is as big as I could fit in my living room.〃

His dark, husky laughter sinks into my bones. ¨Youˇll stay with me, then? So, I donˇt need to sleep on the floor since sharing a bed is off the table?〃

¨Yes. Iˇll stay with you.〃 I wonˇt be giving up my lease, though. Not anytime soon. ¨New rulewe set an end date.〃

More than the kiss, more than the one bed, itˇs this rule that seems to shake something loose in him. He reaches up to adjust his ball cap. Only when his palm collides with the top of his head does he seem to remember that he took it off before we sat to eat. With a self-deprecating chuckle, he ends up raking his fingers through his hair, his gaze pinging everywhere but landing on me.

Knowing what I know about how he deals with eye contact, I place a careful hand on his leg. ¨Or not,〃 I say softly, squeezing his knee once before pulling away. ¨Maybe we take it day by day, feel the situation out as it unfolds. Make that decision whenever it seems right.〃

¨What if itˇs never the right time?〃 His voice is strangely hoarse, reminding me of when we first met and discussed the terms of our friendship. He cracked open the door to his heart that day and let me peer inside. In nine years, heˇs never once locked me out. And sometimes . . . Sometimes I wonder if Iˇd be this hopelessly in love with him if he wasnˇt so determined to always be an open book. Itˇs that openness that guides him now, that instinctual need he feels to share everything with me, even when it exposes the soft underbelly of his soul. ¨What if getting married to you just feels right, and I donˇt want to let you go?〃

Would I stay in a platonic marriage with West over a sexual one with some random, faceless stranger?

Yes.

Always.

Forever.

Marrying West will hurt, but maybe the pain will fade one day. Or maybe it wonˇt. Maybe the hurt will grow like the gnarled branches of a tree, old and weathered by time but stronger from the roots buried deep beneath the soil. And maybe one day, years in the future, Iˇll look back on this moment and know that I made the right choice in marrying Westbecause even when Iˇm in freefall, I know that heˇll always catch me in the end.

¨So, we stay married, then.〃 Rolling his sleeves down over my fingers, I let my hands hang between my splayed thighs. ¨I mean, you did sort of promise me that weˇd end up old and grey together.〃

¨Youˇre right, I did.〃

My breath catches as he leans forward to rest his weight down on only one knee, and then I stop breathing altogether when he reaches for my hand. The soft glimmer of moonlight slants across his handsome face as he carefully pulls back the sleeve of his sweatshirt to expose my wrist, my fingers, my palm. Our fingertips meet in a gentle brush of skin against skin.

¨If our one kiss is saved for our wedding day, should we shake on it?〃 he asks. ¨To seal the deal?〃

I nod jerkily. ¨Yeah, okay.〃

He slides his hand into mine. ¨Daisy Daisy-belle Hall, in the name of hockey and friendship, I promise to only kiss you once, to never share your bed, and maybeitˇs currently undecidedto let you go at some undetermined date in the future. Will you marry me?〃

As far as proposals go, it could certainly be better. But Iˇm laughing, and my heart is racing, and Iˇm holding the hand of the boy I love. Most of all, it feels like us .

¨Yes, Weston Cain, Iˇll marry you.〃

¨Giving away your heart is a terrifying prospect.

In hockey terms, itˇs a bit like rushing down the ice on a breakaway

when the clock is running out. You either make the play and win one for the team

or you trudge back to the dressing room with the knowledge that you failed.〃

 Confessions of a Puck Bunny