6. Berkley
What's A WAG?
By the end of the following week, I was equal parts exhausted and exhilarated. I’d completed yet another semester of law school, passed all my exams with flying colors, and was one step closer to realizing my dreams.
Since I’d be away for Christmas, the girls and I planned to take the weekend and party our asses off in celebration, exactly like the old days.
Thursday morning found us spread across my living room, each of us in a different state of self-care. I was putting the finishing touches on my pedicure when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” I said, hopping carefully to my feet and waddling down the hall, toe separators still in place.
Rising onto my tip-toes to look through the peephole, I was met with a mass of orange. Tentatively, I opened the door to find a delivery boy holding an enormous bouquet of tulips.
“I’m looking for Berkley Daniels.”
“That’s me.”
Unceremoniously, he shoved the bouquet into my arms, bid me a good day, and disappeared toward the elevator.
“Who wa—” Kimber began, stopping short when I re-entered the living room.
“Who are they from?” Lexie asked, then held up her hand. “Actually, don’t answer that. They can only be from Brent.”
“Let me find the card before you get all annoyed over something I can’t control,” I snarked at Lexie, who only folded her arms over her chest and stared me down, a single dark brow arched as though daring me to prove her wrong.
“Dear Berkley,” I said aloud as I read the card. “I know they’re not peonies, but they were so gorgeous, I couldn’t resist. Just like I couldn’t resist seeing you one more time before you leave me for three weeks. If you don’t have plans tonight…you do now. XOXO, Brent.”
“What does he mean, ‘you do now’?” Amelia asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
I slowly opened the back flap of the attached envelope, somehow already knowing what I’d find when I peeked inside. I kept my expression neutral as I withdrew the tickets and fanned them out for my friends to see.
“Anyone feel like going to a hockey game?”
I could admit, I was nervous about seeing Brent again. Although I’d had a great time on our date, fancy, expensive, hella exclusive dinners weren’t exactly my thing. Being around him made the night magical, and I couldn’t blame him for not knowing I preferred hole-in-the-wall diners with greasy burgers and sticky booths. Places where the milkshakes were as thick as the scent of fried food in the air. Going forward—if this became a full-blown thing between us—I’d simply have to make sure he did.
And, God, I desperately wanted it to become a full-blown thing. More than I was willing to admit to anyone but myself.
We’d seen each other twice since that date—once in a rushed lunch between his morning skate and my classes, and another when he’d come over to watch a movie. All we’d done was make out a little, mostly because everything was still so fresh. I loved that he didn’t push me on it, that he didn’t ask for more than I wanted to give. It was refreshing to be with a man who respected my boundaries.
But damn, I was falling hard and fast.
By the time we’d arrived at the arena that night—my friends had to go home and change before meeting me back at my place, and I took forever and a day to decide what to wear—we were already running late. I’d ultimately settled on my replica Brent Jean jersey, hair in loose waves down my back, light-wash skinny jeans, and my favorite combat boots.
The entrance line snaking around the arena and moving at a snail’s pace didn’t help matters. When we broke free from security at last, Amelia and Kimber stopped at concessions to get beers while Lexie and I rushed through the concourse in search of our section.
I should’ve known Brent wouldn’t fuck around when it came to seats.
Still, I was shocked to discover we were seated right on the glass. I hadn’t studied the tickets all that hard before arriving, too caught up in the excitement of going to a game—which I hadn’t made time for in ages, despite being a lifelong fan of the franchise. I felt exposed here, as though anyone could take one look at me and know I hadn’t bought these seats, and the man who’d given them to me was the city’s most eligible bachelor.
Although…maybe not so eligible nor a bachelor anymore?
Mentally, I smacked myself in the head. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Daniels.
The Warriors were playing their division rivals, the Boston Golden Bears, and it was immediately clear that it would be an intensely physical game. The Bears’ self-proclaimed “enforcer” kept running into the Warriors’ goalie or showering him with ice well after he’d made a stop and the play was blown dead. Brent and his teammates became increasingly agitated; hockey players were protective in general, but more so of their goalies than anyone else. There were a few extra shoves and words exchanged after whistles, but the first period ended with neither team having scored.
The second period was more of the same. With about five minutes left, defenseman Chase Olsson was sent to the box for hooking, creating the first power play of the game for the Bears. Thankfully, the Warriors killed the penalty, and just as time expired, Brent sent a beautiful lead pass saucering across the ice to Chase coming out of the box. A heartbeat later, the lamp behind the net lit and the goal horn sounded.
Twenty seconds into the third period, a rival defenseman took a gnarly slapshot from the blue line that beat the Warriors’ goalie, tying the score at one. Barely a minute later, though, Brent put one top shelf on a perfect pass from Cole, which proved to be the game winner.
After he’d scored, after skating down the line, fist-bumping his teammates, Brent came back out for puck drop with his line. As the ref approached center ice, Brent skated to where my friends and I sat, tapped the glass with a fist and shot me a wink, mouthing, “Hi,” before returning to the game.
“Fuck,” I breathed.
“He’s so hot,” Lexie agreed, correctly interpreting my curse.
Before I could bask too much in the glow of Brent’s attention, whispers from behind us reached my ears.
“Who is she?”
“She’s gotta be some random puck slut.”
“Is that Brent’s girlfriend?”
“Brent Jean doesn’t do girlfriends.”
My fist clenched against my thigh, and Lexie said, “Relax. We all know better. Ignore them.”
“Easier said than done,” I grumbled.
As the girls behind us continued to talk shit about me, my rage grew, my hands clutching the hem of my jersey so tightly I felt like one wrong move would tear it down the middle, Hulk style.
Lexie, sensing my distress, came to my rescue by turning around and telling the girls to shut the fuck up.
Damn, I loved her. She would literally do anything for me, including making herself look like the bad guy to get some catty bitches off my back.
Though Brent did his best to get into a fistfight in the third and complete his Gordie Howe hat trick—a goal, an assist, and a fight in one game—he was unsuccessful, but the 2-1 score held up. I hugged my friends in celebration, cheering and dancing to the victory notes of “Don’t Stop Believing” followed by “All I Do is Win” as the Warriors saluted their fans. Since Brent had scored the game winner and notched an assist, he was named the game’s first star. I cheered as loudly as I could when his name was announced and he skated back out to center ice.
The entire experience had been surreal. Being here, his name on my back, with tickets he’d given me? It was beyond anything my imagination could’ve conjured. And when he once again skated along the glass, this time blowing me a kiss, I nearly melted into a puddle.
As I opened my mouth to ask the girls what they wanted to do next, if they thought I should wait for Brent or leave and let him come to me, someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned to find a woman in a smart grey pantsuit, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. “Is one of you Miss Daniels?”
“I am,” I said, giving a little wave.
“Would you and your companions come with me, please?” Without waiting for a response, the woman started back up the stairs toward the concourse.
Dumbstruck, I could only stare after her.
Until Lexie shoved me into the aisle.
“Hurry up or we’ll lose her!”
I did as I was told, scrambling to keep up, bobbing and weaving around the fans performing their mass exodus.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I inquired when we reached the concourse. “Where are you taking us? Did we do something wrong? If this is about those seats, I swear we have tickets. They were given to me by—”
“Yes, I know who sent them,” the woman responded. “I’m taking you to Mr. Jean’s suite, per his request.”
Per his request?
“What the fuck,” Lexie murmured, voicing my thoughts.
As we loaded into an elevator, my heart rate skyrocketed. Feigning calm, I discreetly wiped my clammy palms on my jeans and gave my friends a reassuring smile.
Honestly, I shouldn’t have been worried, but everything about this experience was so new to me. It was one thing to be handed glass seats to a Warriors’ game, tickets that ran upwards of three hundred dollars on a good day. It was entirely different to be collected by some arena attendant and brought to Brent’s suite. I knew he probably only wanted to see me, but…damn. All of this was going to take some getting used to.
At last, we arrived at suite level and approached a door with a plaque on it that read BJ 22. The woman ushered us inside, said, “Wait here,” and hurried away.
I turned on the spot, checking out my surroundings. The suite was tucked into one corner of the arena, the Zamboni entrance down to our right. A wall of glass offered a bird’s eye view of the stands, serving as the backdrop to a private balcony with two rows of ten seats, a narrow aisle separating them into fives. The walls inside were dark paneling and covered in framed photos depicting different generations of the Warriors’ team and staff. A beverage station sat against one wall with a short countertop, some cupboards, a sink, and mini-fridge.
We were also the only people here, which shocked me more than anything else that had happened tonight.
“This is kind of weird,” I said, finally voicing my anxiety. “He should’ve told me he was doing this. I seriously thought we were in trouble or something.”
Amelia laughed. “You should’ve seen the look on your face when we got in the elevator. Priceless.”
“Wait,” Kimber said, eyes wide. “Does this officially make you a WAG?”
I choked on a laugh. “Absolutely not. We’ve literally gone on one date and hung out a few other times. It’s way too soon for that.”
“What’s a WAG?” Lexie asked.
Ahh, dear sweet Lexie. The best friend I’d ever had, but not much of a sports fan.
“It’s an acronym,” Amelia explained. “It stands for Wives And Girlfriends.”
“Shit, Berk,” Lexie said. “Whether you guys have defined your relationship or not, this is pretty sweet. I’d milk it for all it’s worth.”
I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips. “Lex, how long have you known me?”
“Seven years,” she answered immediately.
“And what about me in those seven years has shown you that I need or want a man to buy my affection?”
Lexie’s expression slackened as she realized her mistake. “Absolutely nothing,” she said softly.
“Exactly.”
“I’d hardly consider this buying your affection,” Amelia said. “He wanted to see you and he made it happen. I appreciate the initiative.”
“He could’ve asked first.”
“Oh, stop being so fucking independent and enjoy yourself!” Kimber burst out.
“Kimber…” Lexie warned.
I put a hand on her arm. “It’s fine, Lex.”
It wasn’t fine, not at all. Maintaining my independence had always been one of the most important things to me. I never wanted to rely on a man—or anyone—for anything. I refused to be one of those women who couldn’t do anything for herself. Kimber knew that about me—all three of these women did. And while I may not have been the easiest to deal with sometimes, I knew the right man would accept me, all of me, for exactly who I was.
But now was not the time to remind Kimber of that. When Brent could walk through that door at any moment, I wasn’t about to cause a scene with my friends.
Kimber’s gaze remained locked on me, waiting for me to explode.
I simply offered her a fake smile and said, “You’re right, Kimber. I should enjoy myself.”
Kimber blinked, clearly confused, but I turned toward the bar before she could utter another word.
“You took it way too easy on her,” Lexie said, coming up behind me at the bar.
I withdrew a beer from the fridge, extended it to Lexie, and grabbed another when she accepted. We took them onto the balcony, far away from Kimber and Amelia—who stood at one of the bar-height tables inside, whispering conspiratorially—to wait for Brent to arrive.
“It’s not the time or the place to have that conversation with her,” I said to Lexie, finally responding to her last comment.
As much as we liked to pretend it didn’t, our group had a natural divide—us versus them, Lexie and Berkley versus Kimber and Amelia. It had been like that since the early days of our friendship. I’m not saying Kimber and Amelia weren’t good friends of ours, because they were, but Kimber had a bad habit of giving me backhanded compliments and treating me like I was beneath her. Amelia, on the other hand, was just spineless enough to follow her lead. I’d always gotten along better with Lexie because we were two peas in a pod—stubborn, outspoken, fiercely loyal, protective, and would take a bat to the back of anyone who wronged us.
I couldn’t say the same for Kimber and Amelia. And for someone who was building a career out of fighting for people who couldn’t do it themselves, I could admit: I’d become a bit of a pushover lately. I would say something to Kimber about what she’d just said to me—about the other times she’d spoken to me in a similar manner over the years, about her and Amelia letting themselves into my home uninvited, about the other wrongs I felt I’d suffered at their hands—but tonight wasn’t the night.
“I’m not debating that,” Lexie said. “But you have to do it eventually.”
“I will,” I promised.
“This is a hell of a view,” she commented, abruptly steering the conversation to safer ground. “I don’t know about you, but I could get used to this.”
Despite the irritation clawing at me, I couldn’t help but smile at Lexie. “Me, too.”
I might have been a little freaked out, but…I wasn’t above wishing for this. I wasn’t above praying that this would become the norm for me, for Lexie. That Brent would become a permanent fixture in my life.
As if I’d conjured him, his voice floated through the suite.
“Where’s Berkley?” I heard him ask Kimber, and she must have gestured instead of saying out loud, because a moment later, Brent appeared in the doorway to the balcony.
I stood to meet him, Lexie joining me.
“I’ll just let you two…” Without finishing her sentence, she disappeared inside.
As though it was the most natural thing in the world, I closed the distance between us and flung myself into his arms. Without missing a beat, he scooped me up into a hug and swung me around, planting a kiss on my still smiling mouth when he returned me to my feet. Happily, I leaned into him, letting him keep me circled in his embrace.
This familiarity between was…new, but not unwelcome. My heart pounded joyfully in my chest, and a sense of calmness settled over me. I tilted my head back so he could give me a more thorough kiss.
I hoped I never got used to the way he captured my lips, the way he applied perfect pressure, how easily we opened for each other, our tongues dancing together. I would forever crave the way simple kisses with this man had my toes curling in my shoes.
“You were amazing!” I breathed when we parted. “I’m so proud of you!”
Brent grinned down at me, his eyes bright. That stubborn curl sprung onto his forehead, still damp from his shower, and I reached up to push it back, my hand lingering on his cheek.
“I might have been showing off again,” he whispered, and I blushed. “I’m just sad I didn’t get my Gordie.”
“I’m not!” I said, pulling away to glare at him. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about how that Bears’ bastard kept running our goalie over, and I was sick of his shit!”
I continued to glare.
Brent cupped my face in his hands, running a thumb over my bottom lip, attempting to loosen my pout. “What happened to being proud of me?” he asked, voice low and husky. He dropped a kiss to my forehead, then my nose, then the corner of my mouth. When he leaned in to whisper in my ear, his warm breath on my neck rose goosebumps on my arms. “And has anyone told you how fucking sexy you look in that jersey?”
“Not lately,” I quipped, then sighed, giving in and wrapping my arms around his waist. “Next time, don’t be such a pest.” I tapped him on the nose. “I’d hate for someone to ruin that pretty face of yours.”
“Nah,” he said. “You’re the pretty one.”
I giggled. “Oh, my God. We’re becoming one of those nausea-inducing couples.”
Brent cocked his head to the side. “Is that what we are? A couple?”
Anxiety spiked my blood, and I—poorly—attempted to backpedal. “I mean…that’s not what I meant. We’re just hanging out, right? Nothing serious.”
“Riiiiiight,” Brent said, giving me a knowing smirk. “Tell me, Berkley. Are you seeing anyone else? Or, excuse me, just hanging out with anyone else?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be spending time with other people?”
“No.”
“Neither do I,” he growled. “I’m greedy for you, and only you. Can you trust me when I tell you this is a lot more than just hanging out for me?”
Greedy, he’d said.
I knew the feeling, and his words once again had my cheeks heating.
“Yes,” I said at least. “I trust you. I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t think—I wasn’t sure…”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said, wrapping his arms tighter around me. “I want you to talk to me if something is bothering you, okay? Especially if it directly concerns us.”
I tipped my head back to look at him, those depthless blue eyes boring into mine. “As long as you promise to do the same.”
“Deal.” He grinned and kissed me again, lingering long enough that gagging noises sounded from behind me.
Brent broke away with a sigh. “Hi Lexie. Kimber, Amelia. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Lexie said when I turned in Brent’s arms to face my friends. “Just wondering when you two cheeseballs are going to stop sucking face so we can start drinking.”
It seemed there was an unspoken agreement that we’d been spending the evening with the Warriors, a change of plans I was all too happy to accommodate. I fully planned to be glued to Brent’s warmth until it was time to go home.
Brent simply laughed indulgently, and I pulled away. Before I could follow my friends, Brent tugged me back.
“I have a question for you,” he said, and my hackles rose.
“There’s this party the organization throws every winter. It’s a way for sponsors and donors to rub elbows with us.”
“The Winter Gala,” I said. “I’m familiar with it.”
“Right,” Brent said, offering me a tight smile. Inexplicably, he seemed…nervous, and my palms clammed up in response. “It’s coming up this Saturday. I know that’s only two days away, and it’s really short notice, and I have no idea when you’re leaving for Traverse City, but I was hoping that maybe, if you’re free, you’d want to come with me.”
I blinked, shaking my head a little, then burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, frowning.
“You’re nervous!” I crooned. “That’s so fucking cute.”
“Berkley…” he warned.
“Sorry, sorry,” I said, collecting myself. “You want me to go to the Gala with you. Like, as your date.”
He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. “Yes, Berkley, as my date. Like I said, I know it’s short notice, but…I’d really love to have you there with me.”
“Are you sure that’s smart?” I blurted, unable to stop myself.
“I think so, yes.”
“What if people get the wrong idea?”
“And what idea would that be?”
“That we’re…together.”
“Didn’t we just have this conversation?” Brent leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear, yet again sending shivers skittering across my skin. “If people think we’re together…they’ve got the right idea.”
A thrill raced down my spine at the thought that this man wanted to be seen in public with me. I supposed if we were doing this, we might as well go full send.
“I’ll go with you,” I agreed at last. “But…that’s about as public as I’m willing to get right now. I still have to live here, you know? Finish law school. And we’re just getting started. So…one thing at a time.”
“One thing at a time,” he agreed, beaming as he kissed me again, both of us smiling against each other’s mouths.
“Come on, lovebirds!” Lexie called.
With a sheepish grin, Brent grabbed my hand and led us from the suite.