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BLAKELY

The white coat draped over my arm is far more than what it appears to be. It’s a gift, a confirmation that I’m still able to access my passion despite ignoring it these past few years. I always knew I had it in me to do great things with my love for cooking. It was never a way for me to kill time or just a means to eat every day.

It’s something I’ve truly loved since I was a little girl. When I dropped out of school, I gave up on my dreams to be a professional chef. There are always ways to climb to the top of any ladder without a degree, but the means to do so were never available to me.

Not until Jamie.

And he doesn’t even fully understand the value of what he’s offered me. While I’m not going to be working at a five-star restaurant alongside decorated chefs, it’s the opportunity that I’ve been needing to climb that first rung of the ladder to the top.

My husband did that for me. Not because he wanted something in return but to make me happy. To give me something that nobody else has before.

A genuine chance.

I don’t know what to do with that right now .

“Do you think we could pick Nate up from school on our way home? We’ve still got an hour, but we could entertain ourselves until then,” Jamie says, checking his watch.

Our hands are swinging between us as we walk through the back lot to where he has the SUV parked. There aren’t many other cars left, but since we stayed late to help clean up lunch, that doesn’t shock me. Everyone was already gone when we finished up.

“I’m sure he’d love that. Public buses don’t have much on expensive SUVs.”

He brings our hands to his mouth, kissing my knuckles before pressing them to his chest. “The parking lot is empty enough for some quick lessons if you’re up for learning.”

“To drive?”

“The sooner you know how, the sooner I can get you a car. Then neither of you will have to take the bus anymore.”

“You’d really do that right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve just been at practice. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

He envelops the back of my hand so it’s sandwiched in both of his. “I can sleep later.”

Emotion swells and rocks inside of me, filling me to the point of spilling. Jamie’s not making anything easy on me, and we still have a month and a half of our marriage to get through.

“Fine. You can give me a few lessons, Pretty Boy.”

“That’s the spirit, gorgeous.”

My pulse doubles in speed. “What’s the first one?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls his keys free. With a grin, he unlinks our fingers and drops the keys into my palm.

“Unlock the doors and slide into the driver’s seat.”

“Shouldn’t I do a walkaround of the vehicle? I saw that online once.”

He huffs a laugh. “I stand corrected. A real teacher would make you do one of those, so have at it.”

Maybe it’s a stalling tactic. Maybe .

The sooner I get into the vehicle, the faster I’ll want to scream at being trapped in such a close space with him. Usually, I can put up a wall between us to keep from pouncing into his lap and kissing him, but today? After everything?

I fear even my iron will isn’t strong enough to withstand the draw.

Turning my attention to the SUV, I slowly make my way to the back. The entire vehicle is in pristine condition, not a dent or scratch to be seen. I drag a finger along the glossy black paint, picturing him doing this same check every night to make sure he doesn’t have anything to buff out or fix before bed.

“Are you Blakely?”

I jump at the female voice, jamming my elbow into the side of the SUV.

“ Fuck ,” I groan, rubbing at the bone and where it aches.

“I’m so sorry!” the stranger squeaks while Jamie comes barrelling into view.

“Blakely? What happened? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, continuing to rub at the sore bone as he tries to take over for me. “I hit my elbow. It’s fine.”

“Who are you? Do I need to get security?” he barks, completely focused on the young woman gaping into her palm a few feet away.

His arm is rock-solid with strain when I place my hand over it and slide my body in front of him, chest to chest. I’ve never seen him angry before, but this move is almost more for me than it is him.

The protectiveness that’s vibrating off his skin right now is an aphrodisiac. I’m struggling to catch my breath because I’m turned on by him, not because I’m scared he’s going to unleash hell on this innocent woman. He’d never do that.

What I would like him to do, though, is spread me out on the hood of his SUV and grind the hard dick pressing against my belly between my legs .

“I hurt myself, Jamie. She surprised me, and I fell back into the SUV,” I murmur, running a finger up and down his chest.

Slowly, the blue in his eyes lightens. He clears his throat, cheeks paling when he glances at the woman, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her as I spin, resting my back against his chest.

She blinks quickly and lowers her hand. “Oh! Don’t be. I get it. I can only imagine the kind of people that come up and try to talk to you. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You knew my name, so I assume you’re a football fan?” I ask.

“I am. But I didn’t come here to see Jamieson. No offense or anything!”

My husband chuckles. “Call me Jamie. And no offense taken. Blakely is the real star between us, anyway. I just catch the balls.”

“Well, in that case, I wanted to come and see if you were still here so I could say thank you,” the woman says, her words coming out so quickly I can hardly keep up with them.

“Thank me for what?”

Surprise loosens the woman’s features, yet that doesn’t stop her from explaining.

“The interview from earlier. There’s a video online, and when I saw it, I just knew that I had to say thank you for standing up for women. I’ve never dated a pro athlete, but I do work with them, and I think your message was important. Women are judged on every single thing they do, and no matter how badly we try to prove ourselves, it hardly seems to make a difference. The world has become programmed against us in too many aspects of everyday life. So, thank you for being brave enough to speak up about it. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

Jamie brings his steady comfort to me with a hand to my lower back. “The interview with Sports Weekly is already up?”

“Yeah. It looked like it was shot from a few yards away from someone watching you,” she explains.

“What’s your name?” I ask her .

“Giana. Giana Mitchell.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Giana. I’m Blakely.”

She tips her mouth into a smile. “I didn’t mean to accost you in a parking lot. I always pass the stadium on my way home, and once I saw the video, I figured I’d see if you were still here. I’m apparently lucky today.”

“You should stop somewhere and buy a lottery ticket while you’re at it,” I suggest, half joking.

She tucks the stray brown hairs blowing in her face behind her ears, exposing more of the freckles sprinkled all over her nose and cheeks.

“Maybe I will, actually.”

Unsure what to say next, my anti-socialness kicks into overdrive. It’s not a purposeful thing. Just a very annoying, natural one.

“ Sports Weekly is full of sharks waiting for their next sniff of blood, Blakely. I’d keep an eye out now that you’ve handed Bobby his ass and the video of it has gone viral,” Giana adds, reading the vibe between us.

Jamie steps in now, his interest piqued. “You have experience with them?”

“Not me, but I work with the Warriors, so . . .”

“Say no more,” Jamie mutters.

“Or do say more. What does this guy have to do with the Warriors?” I ask, brows lifted.

Considering the Vancouver Warriors NHL team plays in the arena across the street, it makes sense that Giana would be passing here to go home, driving home the conclusion that she isn’t a creepy stalker.

“There was a lot of shit that went down with them and my cousin Maddox a few years back. It’s old news, and the reporter who was working there at the time has long since been fired,” Jamie explains.

I nod, leaning against him. “So, there’s still bad blood.”

“For the entire team, really. But I’m going to stop myself before I get myself fired too,” she rushes out, smiling apologetically. “I should head home, anyway. Thank you for talking to me, Blakely. I meant what I said.”

“It was nothing.”

She shakes her head, her smile turning sad. “No, it wasn’t. It was important.”

“Then I guess you’re welcome.”

Raising a hand to wave, she starts retreating. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

She hops over a cement barrier and walks with a strong sense of purpose out of the parking lot while I watch, a part of me wishing I’d had the nerve to ask for her number or something.

“That was interesting,” Jamie notes, slipping the keys from my palm and unlocking the SUV doors. “She seemed nice, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, she was. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come up to me today.”

“We’ll have to look for this video once we get home. I need to know what we’re up against here.”

“Don’t you want to do that now?” I ask, brows dipping.

He holds my shoulders and turns me to face him and the now open driver’s door. “We already had plans, Bandit. Hop in, and we can get started.”

I do, and twenty minutes later, Jamie’s clutching onto the door for dear life while shouting for me to slow down.

“This isn’t Formula One! You don’t have to go so fast!”

“But it’s so fun to see you scared,” I poke, stomping the gas so we lurch forward again.

“Blakely, I swear to Go?—”

The tires squeal when I give a hard turn to the steering wheel and send us careening to the left. “What was that?”

“It’s like you want me to sit you in my lap and guide you.”

With my heart soaring with freedom, I can’t help but tease him. “Are you offering? ”

“I’m warning you, baby. If I get you in my lap, the main driving lessons are over. And there’s nowhere for you to run this time.”

His stare is intense, demanding, and I meet it with one of surrender. It feels so fucking good to give in to him.

My belly tightens. “Teach me some more first.”