Chapter 17
OLLIE
I get a flurry of congratulations in the locker room after practice.
It’s nice. And when I think of having to leave at the end of the season, I get a little…
I don’t know…indigestion? After my shower, I rub my aching chest and look for the bottle of Tums I usually have in my bag when Nick calls me into the training room.
“Hey, man,” he says in a low, serious voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you and Phoebe were a couple. I wouldn’t have hugged her and stuff this morning if I knew.”
I nod. I don’t know this guy at all. He seems okay, and the Devil Birds are such a quality organization, I don’t think they’d have an asshole on staff.
“It’s okay. And thank you,” I say. This is so uncomfortable. I start to dry off my arms to give me something to do while I’m standing here with a towel wrapped around my waist.
Nick leans in close, which really isn’t cool. I’m a big fan of personal space in general. But especially when, you know, I’m mostly naked and surrounded by men. If you’re not Phoebe, I don’t want you this close to me.
“Nothing happened between us when we went out. We kissed, but that was it. We’re friends—nothing romantic.”
I nod. I appreciate him telling me. I guess. Sucks he got to kiss her before I have, but at least I’m not wondering if they had sex. I think that would drive me insane.
I finally escape and lean back into my stall a bit to get some breathing space. Space in general.
Lindy shakes his head like a wet dog instead of the bear shifter he is, water from his shoulder-length blond hair spraying everyone in a few-foot radius and causing grumbles.
Alvarez snaps his towel at Lindy, turning grumbles into laughter.
If this was the Sasquatch locker room, there’d be punches thrown.
I don’t know if things were abnormally toxic in Spokane or if it’s insanely positive here in Atlantic City.
I finish getting dressed and give a general, “See you tomorrow,” as I leave the locker room. Pulling out my phone from my jeans, I pull up my text thread with Phoebe.
Me: All done. Where are you?
Phoebe: In the coffee shop, I’ll come meet you.
Me: No, stay. I’ll come to you.
Phoebe: Okay.
I double-check the directory for the pier because I’ve only been to the rink area so far.
The coffee shop is on the second floor, so I jog up the stairs and grin when I see Phoebe sitting at a table outside the shop.
I don’t think I’m imagining that her face lights up when she sees me walking toward her.
I’m not that creative. On impulse, or maybe instinct, I press a quick kiss to her cheek.
“What are you drinking?” I ask as I scan the menu board.
“Peppermint white chocolate hot cocoa.”
I glance down. “Really? Is it good?”
She holds her cup up. “Taste it.”
There’s a lid, so I turn it to the opening, which means putting my lips right where hers have been. Who cares about tasting the cocoa? This is the closest I’ve gotten to kissing her. But I can’t stand there like a creep making out with a paper coffee cup, so I take a sip. Oh, it’s good.
I hand it back with a nod. “I’m going to get one too. Do you want anything else?” I see they have baked goods too.
When she doesn’t answer, I glance down.
“Come here,” she says, waving me toward her.
I bend down. Is this it? Is she going to kiss me? I don’t care if she makes the first move. Obviously whenever I try, it’s interrupted, so if she can make it happen, more power to her. She reaches up and wipes my mouth with a napkin. That’s so not how I wanted her touching my lips.
“You had a whipped cream mustache,” she whispers.
“Oh. Thanks.”
Straightening, I stride into the coffee shop and get in line to order.
After ordering my hot cocoa and a cinnamon roll, I step aside.
I’m idly reading the board because I don’t know where else to look when I sense someone standing next to me.
I glance down to see a blond-haired boy around ten staring up at me.
“Ex…excuse me. Are you Oliver King?”
I nod. “I am.”
He turns to a lady at a table near her. She’s in her mid-thirties, if I had to guess. “Mom! It is!”
She smiles encouragingly, nodding, watching us.
The boy turns back and stares up at me.
Okay. “Hi…” I say.
Nothing.
“Say hello, Tyler.” His mom waves him closer to me.
“Hi,” Tyler repeats.
Ugh. I hate these kinds of interactions. I don’t want to be an egotistical jerk and offer an autograph or to take a selfie like I think I’m someone important. Tyler continues to stare up at me. His mom sighs and comes over.
“Mr. King, sorry to interrupt your day. Would it be okay for Tyler to get a picture with you?”
“Of course! I’d be happy to.” I bend down so we can fit in the frame together. The mom takes a couple of pictures and thanks me.
“Do you play hockey, Tyler?” I ask as his mom goes back to her table.
He nods. “I do! I’m on the Devil Birds junior team.”
“That’s great. What position do you play?”
“Forward, like you.”
“Do you like it?”
He nods eagerly. “Yes! I want to play for the Devil Birds when I grow up. I’m a grizzly bear shifter. My uncle keeps trying to get me to play rugby, but I like hockey more.”
I chuckle. “Good choice.”
My order is set on the counter for me to grab. I retrieve it, thanking the barista. “It was great meeting you, Tyler. Good luck with hockey.”
Tyler’s mom thanks me as I walk by, and I smile and nod in return. As much as I don’t enjoy talking to people, I love it when I can interact with kids.
I take my seat and scoot it next to Phoebe’s chair. It will be easier to share the cinnamon roll this way. Yeah, that’s it.
“Do you have experience with kids?” I blurt out as I hand her the second fork I grabbed.
The look she gives me makes me laugh.
“Okay, that was random,” I admit. “I realize we could be asked to watch Finn and Shelby’s kid. Made me curious.”
Her eyes widen. “No! Oh shit. I’ve never changed a diaper or made a bottle or anything. What are we going to do?” She reaches out and grabs my arm in desperation. I lay my hand over hers reassuringly.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it. I babysat a lot when I was younger and was a manny my freshman year of college. I can do diapers and bottles and all that stuff.”
“So when we have kids, you’ll take care of them?”
A smile spreads across my face as a flush spreads across Phoebe’s. She didn’t mean to ask that, but it was on her mind. And that’s one step closer to us being together.
I move her hand from my arm, place it on my heart, and cover it with my own. Hopefully she can feel the way my heart beats for her.
“Phoebe,” I say gruffly because suddenly there’s a lump in my throat.
The truth—my truth—needs to be said, whether she knows I’m serious or thinks I’m playing a part.
“I would do anything for our kids. Change diapers, middle-of-the-night feedings, protect them, love them. Anything.” I don’t say that I would protect and love her too.
It’s too soon to say that and have her be ready to hear it, but one day, I will.
I can’t be this close and not kiss her. Not go down on one knee for real and ask her to be my wife.
So, I uncover her hand so she can remove it from my chest when she wants to and pick up my own fork to take a bite of the cinnamon roll.
One day, I won’t have to break these moments.
I’ll be able to step forward and take her into my arms and kiss her.
We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the cinnamon roll and hot chocolates and being together. As much as being around other people exhausts me, I never feel that way when I’m with Phoebe. I feel peaceful.
“That was good,” I say, setting down my fork after my last bite of cinnamon roll.
Phoebe shrugs. “Yeah, but mine are better.”
“You’ll have to prove it,” I say with a wink.
“I’ll make them when we get home,” she promises.
Home. I’ll be coming home to Phoebe and a place we share. What I’ve always wanted. Almost.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin, and Phoebe scrunches her nose.
“What? Did I miss something?”
“No,” she sighs. “You got it all. But you had a smear right here”—she points to the corner of her mouth—“and I figured I could help you with it.”
Oh. Oh. A flush sweeps up my face, and I grasp around for a change of subject. “Let’s do something! I mean, uh, what do you want to do? For fun. Now. Anywhere you want to go in the complex?” I push back my chair and stand up so I can clear our table.
Phoebe stands too. “No, I’m good. We can get the stuff out of the car and put it in your room, if that’s okay? Maybe walk around the casino?”
I nod. “Okay.”
We grab our cups so we can finish our cocoas as we walk, and somehow we end up holding hands.
I don’t know if I reached for her, or she for me.
Maybe our hands were magnetically attracted to each other.
As we leave the pier and walk across the Boardwalk to Devil’s Den, I realize we’re attracting attention and people are taking pictures of us with their phones.
That’s the bad part of being almost seven feet tall and a professional athlete. I don’t blend in.
Phoebe squeezes my hand. When I look down at her, she holds her cup to her lips to hide her mouth.
“People are taking pictures of us,” she says quietly. Thanks to my shifter hearing, I could make out what she was saying.
“Mm-hmm,” I agree without opening my mouth.
“Are you okay with it?”
I shrug. “Hmm…”
We enter the casino, and I lead us to the elevator.
People are noticing as we walk along, but judging from the comments that reach me, it’s mostly from my position as the newest Devil Bird and not because of our engagement.
We’re alone as we ride up to the eleventh floor.
I use my phone to unlock the door and gesture for Phoebe to enter first.
Housekeeping visited, so the bed is made and everything is tidy. Phoebe looks around and smiles at me from the window where she’s overlooking the beach and ocean.
“Are you sure you want to move into my place? This is much nicer than my condo!”
I shake my head. “This space is nice, but the company is better at your condo.”
A lovely pink blush blooms over her cheeks as she smiles and shakes her head.
“Make yourself comfy,” I say. “I’ll go down and get our stuff out of the car.”
She turns fully from the window. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, stay here. I’ll only be a few minutes.
” I exit the suite and take the elevator down to the main concourse.
There are shops and…bingo…a jewelry store.
I don’t know Phoebe’s ring size or style preference, so I’m not buying anything now, but I wanted an idea of what’s out there.
I’ve never seen an engagement ring without a stone, but maybe a band would be something she could wear while working without getting dough in the nooks and crannies.
My plan was to take things slowly, but I feel like that horse may have bolted, so I want her to wear my engagement ring at least, even if I never get to put a wedding ring on her finger.