Page 96 of The Wildest One

She rubbed her lips together and glanced away. “Why does it seem like every time I blink, you’re here—in some way or another?” Her voice was slightly above a whisper, but not by much.

I chuckled. “Trust me, I feel the same.” A memory of this morning and that raging fucking hard-on was haunting me. “What is this? Another poster of me?” My teeth skimmed my bottom lip, and I nodded toward the box. “I’m just taking up all your walls, aren’t I?”

She stared at me silently for a few seconds. “No, I?—”

“I was joking.” I smiled.

She nodded. “Of course you were.”

“Come on. I’ll carry this to your office. That’s where it’s going, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to?—”

“I know I don’t have to.”

I started walking and heard the sound of her Jeep lock, and she rushed to catch up to me.

“So, funny story,” she began as she reached my side. “Ginger and I ended up at Toro last night for dinner. Beck, I’ve got to say, it was amazing. We couldn’t stop raving over everything we ate.”

Our seafood and raw bar was one of our newest concepts, and it had exploded in LA, becoming one of the most popular restaurants here.

“And you didn’t tell me you were going …” I eyed her down, those red locks softening me. “I’m disappointed in you.”

She smiled. “It was girls’ night.”

“I wouldn’t have come.” I laughed. “I would have sent over a round of drinks or my favorite dish.”

“Next time.”

We reached the elevator, and the doors opened.

I nodded at the entrance. “After you.”

She stepped in and hit the button for the executive-level floor.

I stood against the back wall, holding the box against the front of me. “Listen, since becoming the captain, I host a little get-together—or whatever you want to call it—every year after the season opener. It’s going to be at Musik, and most of the team will be there, I’m sure. The coaches will be invited and your dad too. You should come if you’re free. Bring Ginger if you want.”

Her arms were folded around her stomach, and they seemed to tighten once my question lingered. “I’ll ask her, but I’m sure she’ll want to go. Thanks for the invite.”

A reply that told me Jolie was going regardless.

Interesting.

The elevator opened, and she got off first, making her way down the corridor that had a direct view of the rink. The ice had just been cleaned and smoothed out by the Zamboni, andonly a few lights were on, the stands, monitors, and scoreboards completely dark.

“I love seeing the arena like this.”

She looked at me over her shoulder. “Yeah? Why?”

“I like the quiet before the storm.”

“You are the storm, Beck Weston.”

I laughed and followed her into her office. “Where do you want this?” I set it directly where she pointed and turned around to face her. “Do you need help hanging it?”

She lifted her bag off her shoulder. “No. I’m going to bribe the maintenance department to do it. Meaning I’m buying someone lunch if they say yes.”

“Jolie, if you have a hammer and a nail, I can do it for you right now.”