Page 139 of The Wildest One

“Make everything perfect.”

I leaned into her neck, inhaling her vanilla-amber aroma that I’d never seen her put on once tonight, but it smelled as thoughshe’d just sprayed it over her skin. “I cannot wait to show you off.”

“Show me off?”

“Yes. As mine.” My lips lingered on her cheek before I pulled back. “The team knows, the staff knows, our families know. Ginger too. All the important people have been covered. Now it’s everyone else’s turn.”

“You mean the women who get all hot and bothered by your stretching memes?” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait to see how they’re going to react to the news.”

“The longer you’re with me, which I intend to be forever, you’re going to learn one thing that’s extremely important.”

“And that is?”

“We don’t give a fuck what any of those people think. They don’t matter, Jolie. What matters is us.”

She put her hand over the side of my beard and whispered, “You’re right.”

The SUV pulled up in front of the restaurant, and there were several paparazzi stationed by the stairs near the entrance. Since the property was directly on River Walk, with a pedestrian sidewalk that sandwiched the water and our eatery, I assumed there were more paparazzi stationed there.

Which meant, tonight, we would be surrounded by cameras.

Jolie wasn’t just wading in; she was going face-first into the middle of the ocean.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Remember, it’s just us. No one else matters.”

She nodded.

I got out of the SUV first, and the flashes from the cameras immediately hit my eyes. I held out my hand, and Jolie clasped my fingers, and I helped her climb from the back seat. Once her heels were on the ground, I didn’t let her go.

“Tough loss today, Beck,” one of them said. “How do you feel about going into the Detroit game in a couple of days? Think the Whales will restart their winning streak?”

“The Whales will be in the finals this year—mark my words,” I replied.

“What about those rumors that Landon is getting traded to Philadelphia?” another one asked.

I repositioned my hand over the small of Jolie’s back and led her toward the stairs. “That’s a rumor I haven’t heard.”

And that was all it was—a rumor. Mark wasn’t trading Landon; he was the best goddamn goalie in the league.

“Do you want to tell us who’s on your arm?” I was asked next.

I stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around to face the small crowd. “You mean who the love of my life is?” I rejoined our fingers, and she squeezed them so tightly. “This is Jolene Jameson, the head of marketing for the Whales.”

“The owner’s daughter?” one of them asked.

There was no reason to hide her identity. The second these photos were posted, the speculation would start. It was best to put out the fire with my own voice rather than someone else’s.

“Yes,” I responded. “And she finally agreed to date me after almost three years of begging her.”

“Three years?” one of them yelled. “That’s a long time to make someone wait.”

Jolie gave the camera a smile. “He had to earn me.”

I chuckled at her perfect response and brought her inside, the doors closing behind us, and I could tell Jolie was finally breathing again.