Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Marie
“I have to say I like your outfit from Dean’s better.”
I jump, starting to turn, but I don’t get far before Jace is slipping his arms around me, his chest pressing to my back.
Male and spice and mine .
“You don’t like me sporting an Eagles jersey?”
“No,” he murmurs, lips pressing to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I just like a short, backless dress, with sexy underwear beneath it better than jeans and a hockey jersey.”
I spin in his hold, throw my arms around his neck, our bodies flush, desire blooming in my belly. “Would it help if I told you that I’m wearing sexy underwear tonight too?”
“It would definitely help.” He draws me closer, takes the chance to slant his lips over mine, not releasing me until my knees are shaking and I’m ready to blow off the game altogether. “We should go in, gorgeous. We need time to get your snacks before puck drop.”
My nose wrinkles, and he grins, taking my hand and drawing me toward the metal detectors in front of the arena.
“Would it help if you told me all the food you want me to buy for you?”
I grin. “Maybe.”
He passes over the tickets to be scanned, ushers me ahead of him. “Definitely popcorn.”
“Absolutely.” I step inside when the security guard waves me forward. “And Swedish fish.”
“Huh?”
“What?” I ask, glancing back over my shoulder at him.
“I would have thought you’d be a KitKat girl.”
“Oh, that’s on my list too,” I say. “Along with nachos and Buncha Crunch and a hot dog and?—”
He stops, eyes going wide as they drag down and up my body.
It’s not like when he’s eating me up with his gaze, his desire burning into me.
It’s…shock.
“You’re serious?”
I stop, brow furrowing. “If it’s too much, I can buy my own snacks, handsome.”
“I—” A shake of his head. “Obviously I can afford your snacks. Hell, cookie, I could buy everyone in here their snacks and not see a difference in my bank account. It’s just…”
“Just what?
“Where the hell do you put it?”
“I’m sorry?”
“That’s enough junk food for an entire hockey team, and you’re the size of my pinky finger, so”—he tugs at a curl—“where the hell do you put it, gorgeous?”
I swat his chest lightly, open my mouth to demand my snacks, but then I see Jean-Michel rushing out of the area where the owner’s suites are. “What the?—?”
“What is it?” Jace asks, teasing immediately leaving his tone.
“I just saw Jean-Michel—” I look again, but I’ve lost him in the crowd. “His face?—”
“What?” he asks, and I realize I haven’t finished the sentences, too lost in looking for my boss.
“Worried, I guess.”
I pull out my phone, but there aren’t any missed calls or texts from my boss. “I?—”
Jace cups my jaw then brushes his lips over my forehead. “I’ll grab snacks. You go check on him.”
My heart squeezes. “I’m sure it’s fine. He’ll call me if he needs?—”
“Cookie.” My eyes go to his. “ Go.”
I debate for one more second before I lift up on tiptoe and brush my lips over his. “Thank you.”
He presses my ticket into my hand and then he’s turning for the concession stand.
I hurry over to the box, greet the security guard by name—because as much as I don’t enjoy watching hockey, I know all of Jean-Michel’s security staff. “Is everything okay?”
He nods, and I push inside the owner’s suite, finding Chrissy and Rory inside.
And…then everything goes to hell.
The next hour is a mess.
A complete and total mess that ends up with me having to talk to another FBI agent—and this time it’s not just Attie, er Agent Phillips.
Because it’s agents, plural.
Because when it’s all said and done, Tiff, Jean-Michel’s Tiff , is caught up in the overflow of the FBI investigation into Angela Rosseau, Duarte, corporate espionage, and kidnapping and trafficking. Complete and total insanity that threatens almost everything Jean-Michel holds dear.
But Tiff…I exhale slowly.
She’s a survivor.
And Attie’s team is watching.
They get to Tiff in time.
But, unfortunately, Angela slips through the FBI’s defenses and has disappeared.
Again.
We’re all disappointed and frustrated—and terrified for Tiff.
Thankfully, she’s unharmed and she drags Jean-Michel back into the light. Literally . She survives a close call, calms him down, and then literally drags him back upstairs, just in time for puck drop.
And I remain below, handling the fallout, liaising with the investigative team, trying to handle everything so that Jean-Michel can just worry about Tiff and himself.
It works.
I get the corridors blocked off and the security footage to Attie. I keep the press and players and staff away…and in doing so, I don’t so much as look at my phone.
And I don’t make it up for puck drop.
And I don’t tell Jace what’s happening.
I just left him?—
“Shit,” I whisper, drawing the attention of several agents. Attention that really isn’t smart, considering what happened here tonight. “Sorry,” I say, hurrying down the hall and yanking my phone from my pocket.
Seeing a series of texts on the screen.
JACE: You good, cookie?
JACE: Text me and let me know all’s fine when you get a chance, okay?
JACE: The second period is about to start and I’m getting a little worried, gorgeous. Can you check in?
JACE: I just saw Jean-Michel. He explained. Take your time.
JACE: I know you’re in the zone, cookie. Take care of what you need to take care of then crawl into bed beside me when you’re done.
I still, my eyes burning, guilt rippling through me.
Because it dawns on me then.
That our whole relationship could be this, like tonight, like the last weeks have been—Jace taking care of me if only I let him in. Which, on the surface, doesn’t seem bad. The problem is that he does it without a second thought.
And I’m so used to protecting myself that I might not think of him, not in the same way he does for me.
Our relationship could be him looking out for me, bending for me, working his ass off to give me exactly what I want, his needs be damned. And he could be—not exactly forgotten like he was with all that complicated his and his mom’s relationship—but also not on the receiving end of the same care and affection as he gives to me.
It’s such a searing, painful realization that I know I need to do better.
To make sure he knows he’s seen.
That he’s not forgotten.
That…I love him.
Wherever you are feels like home.
I take a deep breath, make a promise to the universe and myself, and let go of my deepest darkest secret.
I finally picked right.
And I think I know exactly how to show Jace how much I love him.
So, even though I know she’s insanely busy after the events of tonight, I walk down the hall and wave down Attie.
“You’re good to go,” she says. “We’ll be wrapped up here in the next half hour.”
“That’s great. I just…” I falter, nerves me gripping tightly.
Her head tilts to the side, brown curls bouncing. “What is it?”
I push through my fear and say, “I need a favor.”