CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nerves form an unforgiving knot in my stomach. I gulp against the dry desert my throat has become while Ridge leads us closer to the imposing building. People swarm from every direction and create a funnel at the entrance. Sweat prickles at my neck as we approach the fluid stream that flows into the unknown.
What I focus on is the section of glass doors straight ahead. In the center is a circular opening that appears to have a spinning mechanism. That’s precisely where Ridge is steering us.
I slam on the brakes just as a gust from the whirlwind contraption hits my face. “What is that thing?”
He scans the general area as if searching for an invisible problem. “What thing?”
“That.” I point at the strange spiral device.
His gaze shifts from me to the object in front of us. “The revolving door?”
My mouth works silently for several moments. “That’s a door?”
“Yeah…” He drags the singular word through mud. “Haven’t you seen one before?”
“Is this a response from a person who sees them regularly?” I motion to my wide eyes and locked knees. “In case that isn’t obvious, I’ve never seen one before.”
He scrubs at his mouth, trying and failing to hide a growing smile. “You step inside, and it moves automatically. Think of it as a hands-free option.”
“Fancy technology,” I mumble.
“Nah, these have been around for ages.” Ridge no longer bothers to smother his grin. “Just wait for the elevators and escalators.”
The first is a recognizable term, but the second draws a blank. Not that I have personal experience with either of them. “Are they weird like this?”
“That depends on what you mean by weird. They’re fairly common in buildings with at least two stories, especially elevators.”
A memory clicks on in my mind. “Do they go up and down?”
“Fuck,” he chuckles. “You’re too adorable. Yes, they’re both motorized alternatives for stairs.”
“There’s still much to learn,” I mumble.
“Let’s just go this way.” He hitches a thumb at a regular door.
“Nope, I’m going through the spin cycle. The entire purpose of fleeing the compound was to experience everything I’d been missing, and that’s stating it mildly. But a revolving door is on the list regardless.”
Ridge’s stubbled cheek twitches with a renewed smirk. “I can’t argue with that.”
I pull in a deep breath until my lungs complain. “You won’t let go of my hand, right?”
“Wouldn’t if you begged.”
“Really?”
His expression turns smug. “I’d consider it, but probably not.”
“That’s what I thought. Okay, I’m ready.” I creep forward to what might be a torture chamber, or a time machine if I’m being fanciful.
Ridge takes charge of the situation. My feet are practically lifted off the ground as he casually strolls into a triangular enclosure that’s fit for two. He’s so tall surrounding me, like a protective shield. I hold my breath while the glass cylinder envelops us. We shuffle to keep pace with the lazy speed. The frantic thrash in my pulse slows. This isn’t scary. Well, not unless we get stuck. But we arrive on the other side without incident.
“That wasn’t so bad, right?” He guides me forward to allow those behind us to exit the rotation as well.
“Nope,” I chirp. But then I catch sight of the massive space we’ve stepped into. My shoes stick to the concrete while I gawk at the ceiling that appears sky-high. “Holy shit.”
Ridge chokes. “Did you just curse?”
“Can you blame me?” I fling an arm toward the curved wall made entirely of windows that stretches farther than I can see. Across from that impressive sight are display cases filled with awards and memorabilia that probably costs a fortune. The awe goes on from there. “This deserves an expletive. I wasn’t prepared for… all this.”
An amused rumble rolls off the man I’m glued against. “If the concourse gets this type of reaction, you’re gonna lose your mind once we get to the ice.”
Without releasing my grip on him, I turn in a slow circle. “That’s highly possible. It’s already surreal out here. My mother wouldn’t believe me if I told her,” I breathe.
He peers down at me. “I haven’t heard you mention her very often. Are you worried about how she’s doing since you left?”
“Yes, constantly. It’s hard to think about her. I feel extremely guilty for leaving her behind.” My chest aches as I wonder what she’s doing at this very moment. “But I’m trying to live a better life for both of us. That’s what she wanted. For the past year, I trained myself to shut off the pain from the past. I struggled at the beginning, but I won’t take her sacrifice for granted. Maybe one day she’ll get to explore beyond the limits of Billmoore. In the meantime, I’m trying to capture every moment in her honor.”
The reminder has me blindly grabbing for a one-handed grip on my camera. I aim the lens down the long corridor that’s bright with natural light. As the gears grind to spit out the film, Ridge stoops to my level.
“Should we take one together?”
“Of course.” I’m giddy with the possibility of another shot with him. If he knew how badly I want to fill an entire album with pictures of us, he’d probably never speak to me again. But a sideways glance finds his focus locked on me. On second thought, he might enjoy that.
“May I?” He holds open his palm for me to pass over the Instax.
There’s no hesitation from me to fulfill his request. His fingers release mine in order for him to loop an arm around my waist to pull me close. The motion is seamless, never severing our contact.
The height difference between us is laughable, but he doesn’t complain while bending lower. Our cheeks almost touch as we pose for the photo. I don’t have to ask if he’s going to look at the lens. It seems to be his signature style. Plus, I like the idea that he can’t look away from me. He presses the button while I smile from the inside out. The flash has spots dancing in my eyes that might as well be stars and hearts and—
“Can I be next, Crusher?”
My eyes scan for the owner of the feminine voice, finally landing on a beautiful blonde. Confidence practically shines from her flawless complexion. My own shrinks and cowers beneath a familiar layer of insecurity.
A loud buzz fills my ears as I begin scooting from the frame to let her replace me. It’s physically painful to separate from him, but the sting doesn’t get a chance to spread. Ridge’s grip on me doesn’t loosen. If anything, he holds me tighter.
“Where do you think you’re going, sweetness?”
“She wants to take a picture with you.” My whisper is weak and pathetic.
“Do you think I’ll allow that?” The steely edge in his tone gives me the answer.
But my pride is still wounded. “You should. She’s very pretty.”
“Is she? I didn’t notice.”
“How’s that possible?” A sideways glance confirms she’s hovering just beyond our previously intimate bubble.
“I only see you.” The devotion in his statement reclaims my full concentration. “Now that you’re really listening, I’ll ask you again. Do you think I’ll allow another woman to stand beside me?”
My swallow is thick. “No?”
“No,” he states firmly. “Especially after I promised not to let you go. Even if I hadn’t, it’s a known character flaw that I don’t do photos in public. Until now. You’re the only one who gets that from me.”
The breath whooshes from my lungs and I nearly sway into him. “Oh.”
His gaze drops to my parted lips for a moment before he returns his stare to mine. “Yeah, sweetness. You’re getting there.”
Before I can ask for clarification, someone bumps into my shoulder with enough force to knock me off balance. Ridge is there to catch my fall and set me upright. As I’m regaining my bearings, a menacing growl threatens to topple me in the opposite direction. I realize the noise is coming from the defender of vengeance who refuses to relinquish his hold on me.
“Apologize to my”—he pauses as if chewing on a suitable term to regard me—“girlfriend.”
The man stumbles backward and visibly pales at Ridge’s seethed command. “Shit, it’s Crusher. Sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He runs off before I can process what happened. Not that my concentration would’ve stayed on him long.The events spread over the past three minutes gathered a large following.
Everyone blends together as a cohesive unit. A sea of green and gold to support their beloved Trojans. Several pairs of eyes are aimed directly at us. Others are more polite, only peering over at curious intervals. A handful of bold individuals point and whisper within their social circles.
I look down at my jersey to see if it’s crooked. The garment drapes my figure evenly like a loose gown. A peek at Ridge reflects his stony mask that’s reserved for everyone but me. He doesn’t appear the least bit concerned about this extra attention.
“People are staring,” I murmur.
“They can’t help themselves. You’re a captivating beauty like the sun. They’ll go blind before averting their gaze.”
Even if I was vain enough to believe him, it’s obvious I’m not the target of their attention. “You’re a big deal, huh?”
“I’m somewhat recognizable.”
“Somewhat? Everyone is looking.”
He tugs the brim of his hat down lower to conceal the upper half of his face. “Not really.”
“Why are you hiding then?” I cup the side of my mouth and stage-whisper, “It’s because you’re super famous.”
“Only to hockey fans,” he relents.
“And you’re dating me?” My voice is a shrill squeak.
“It’s a shock to the system, huh? I’m aware that I don’t deserve you. It’s very generous of you to lower your standards for me.”
I scoff, which turns into a dry laugh. “You must be joking. If anyone is lucky in this scenario, it’s me.”
He shrugs. “Not the way I see it.”
It goes against my nature to argue with him, even if he’s acting delusional on purpose. “Agree to disagree.”
A piercing whistle interrupts us. “Woot, woot. Crusher is in the house!”
His nostrils flare as he assesses those fascinated by his presence. “Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.”
A gasp rattles me. “How can you say that?”
“People aren’t respecting you.” He signals to a girl who’s probably recording our exchange.
I squeeze his hand, which is securely fastened against mine again. “Would it put you at ease to know I feel very well protected while I’m with you?”
Ridge’s eyes heat and there’s a noticeable upward curve to his mouth that betrays his neutral expression. He tugs me forward before anyone else can witness the crack in his armor. “C’mon, sweetness. Let’s get to the suite before another dumbass decides to test your personal space.”
Staying true to his promise, I’m tucked safely into his side as we wade into the sea of bodies. An impenetrable barrier encircles us. He might as well be a shield against the crowd. I rely on his towering height to protect him. No harm will touch me while he’s here. That sense of safety allows me to ignore the lingering stares burning into my hunched form.
Ridge maintains a measured pace while steering me through the maze of this building. Our slow speed is most likely for my benefit. I’m grateful; it seems he knows what I need without me having to utter a word. The same goes for how he absently strokes the ruined flesh on my forearm with his thumb. It seems like he can’t stop touching me, which frees a dozen butterflies in my belly.
We climb two flights of stairs rather than take a risk on the escalator. That motorized alternative might eat my shoes.As we approach the third-floor landing, Ridge tilts his phone screen at a uniformed attendant. The man grants us access to wherever we’re headed. This corridor isn’t nearly as congested. A brisk stroll delivers us to a door where another security personnel waits. He barely glances at what I assume are electronic tickets on Ridge’s screen before allowing us inside.
Once again, my stride stumbles to an abrupt halt just as I cross the threshold. The room we’ve entered is immaculate. Leather chairs and polished tables are arranged on the left side. A long table occupies most of the right. Its surface is covered with an assortment of bowls and platters. Framed achievements from previous hockey games and other events hosted by this venue are hanging on the walls. But the massive viewing window straight ahead steals the scene.From what I can see just beyond the glass, there’s a private section of seats on a balcony of sorts. Those must be reserved for us.
“Welcome to our suite.” Ridge gestures at the upscale vibe.
I shuffle forward. “Consider my mind officially blown.”
“Totally called it.”
“We get this entire place to ourselves?” My slack jaw will collect flies soon.
“Yep, just you and me for the next several hours.”
“This requires proof for posterity.” In the next moment, I have my camera pointed at the elegant furnishings. I immediately aim in the opposite direction for another shot.
“Are you hungry? We have about thirty minutes until the game starts.” He redirects my attention to the variety of choices arranged in a buffet.
After a cursory appraisal, it appears the options include my favorite foods. The rich scents in the air confirm as much. There’s pesto pasta with toasted garlic bread. Ripe pineapple, strawberries, and peaches. A Greek salad with extra feta and olives. Bottles of unsweetened iced tea. Snacks and sugary treats for later. There’s an obvious theme to this spread, which sparks my suspicion.
“Did you choose the menu?”
“Is it that obvious?” He ducks his chin, almost appearing shy.
I squint at him. “Which of these options did you pick for yourself?”
Ridge peruses the choices. “I’ll eat whatever. I’m not fussy.”
“But what do you like to eat?”
His gaze feasts on me until he’s had his fill, and then he binges on a second serving. “Anything you’re willing to give me.”
I blink at the evasive response. “Um, okay. I’ll get you some of everything.”
“That won’t be necessary but allow me to serve you.” He begins filling a plate for me before I can protest.
A chiding look settles on me when I try swapping roles. I’m not allowed to lift a finger, other than to stay connected to him. He won’t hear me complain. That comfort from contact goes both ways.
We sit at one of the tables and dig into our dinner. An explosion of flavors pampers my tastebuds. I barely manage to stifle a moan around the next mouthful. Savory spices and rich sauces stir a pleasurable warmth within me. Every bite is better than the last.
To stop from licking my fork, I watch Ridge devour what remains of his meal. It seems only fitting since he hasn’t looked away from me as I thoroughly inhaled the cuisine. That trails my gaze to the secure grip he has on his own utensil. Then the muscles and thick veins in his forearms demand recognition.
I dab at my lips with a napkin. “You have a lot of tattoos.”
A teasing glint flickers in his eyes. “Are you just noticing?”
Fire blazes in my cheeks. “As if I could miss the colorful ink on your skin. I didn’t have the courage to mention them.”
“Until now,” he rasps.
“You make me brave.” I gulp as nerves threaten to bubble up. “It’s a new development.”
“That inner spark is shining through, sweetness.” He toys with my fingers that are once again weaved through his. “I’m honored to be the one fanning your flames.”
The smoky tendrils curling off his tone suggest that he’s referring to more than my newfound confidence. But I’m not sure how to broach the provocative context. Instead, I swerve back to where my interest often lands. Along with his willingness to talk about himself. There’s no resisting an open invitation like that.
“How many tattoos do you have?”
“I stopped counting years ago. There are at least fifteen combined to create this”—he points to the heavily-inked flesh on his right arm—“full sleeve design. The left one only has a half, but there are still plenty blended together. I have many others on parts not as visible.”
The potential of locating those alerts my belly to swoop and flip faster than normal. “Which one did you get first?”
“This.” He circles a hockey stick with a puck balanced on the wider end. “I added the jersey after the Trojans signed me from the draft when I was nineteen. Seems like ages ago.”
There’s longing in his revelation and those sad notes give me pause. I don’t want to pry. “Which is your most recent?”
Ridge smirks. “Roosters is written along my ribs. I included the cock den too.”
The urge to ask if I can sneak a peek dances on my tongue, but that would return us to inappropriate territory. “How long ago did you get it done?”
“After the bar opened, which was over three years ago.”
My brows lift. “Are you done getting tattoos then?”
“Nah, I have plans for another design. Already set an appointment.”
That intriguing strand tethers my concentration. “What’re you going to get?”
His chuckle is warm and gooey and very unlike him. “You’ll see once it’s done.”
“You won’t tell me?”
He shakes his head. “I’d rather show you.”
My smile wilts slightly. “I’ve heard that before.”
His focus slides to the arena center. “Should we go to our seats?”
I follow his gaze to see a countdown displayed on a large screen. A furrow creases my brow. We had half an hour not too long ago. Now only four minutes remain. “Time runs quick when I’m with you.”
“That means we make each second count.”
“Oh,” I exhale. “You’re being very romantic tonight.”
“Just tonight?”
I bite my bottom lip while forcing myself to hold his gaze. “No, it seems to be a regular occurrence.”
“Ever since I met you.” He winks and rises to his feet.
I’m struck still as he gathers our dirty dishes. After dumping them in the labeled tub, he refills my tea along with his water. My focus is fastened on his fluid movements. That leads me to appreciate how well his jeans fit him. The denim molds to his athletic build like the fabric was stitched just for his measurements.
He glances over his shoulder to catch me. “Like what you see?”
“Very much,” I blurt. My eyes widen at that bold statement. A fiery heat floods my cheeks as I wait for his reaction.
A pleased rumble rolls off his chest and he prowls to where I remain frozen in place. “Damn, sweetness. Do you have any idea what this does to me?”
I don’t breathe while his bent knuckle traces a warm patch that’s bloomed on my face. “Constantly blushing exposes me as innocent and shy. I’m embarrassed by how easily it happens.”
“It’s sexy,” he murmurs. “Especially when I’m the cause of it. You drive me to the brink of madness no matter what you’re doing.” His finger strokes a pattern into my flesh. “But when you’re flushed? I’m shoved over the edge into blind obsession. Consider me lost in you.”
My inhale hitches from his admission. Ridge is barely touching me, but it feels as if he’s delving beneath the surface to cradle my very essence. There’s a blatant need in his gaze that even I can recognize. That desire awakens something in me. I whimper as a spasm clenches in my lower belly. He must sense the change in me because his hand drops with a suddenness that’s startling.
“We need to get out there”—he motions to our empty chairs on the other side of the window—”before I take a liberty you’re not ready to give.”
I want to argue that he can have me, but the retort stalls on my parted lips. In truth, I’m not sure what that means. “Okay.”
With a palm notched at my lower back, Ridge escorts me to the front row of our sectioned-off box. I watch from above as people fill the stadium seating below. Green and gold covers the space. Soon the entire arena is full and neon lights pass over the crowd in an erratic sweep. Music blasts from hidden speakers. My breath catches as smoke spews from canisters attached to the plexiglass. It’s quite a spectacle. The pile of pictures beside me is growing rapidly.
“Welcome, hockey fans! I hope you’re in the mood for a great game. Tonight, your Minnesota Trojans take on the Chicago Grizzlies. We’ll see who comes out on top.”
The announcement comes from an unknown source. Not that it matters. We’re all focused on the ice as players enter and begin skating around. A few names are called out, which are recognized as the starters. I’m transfixed while many drop to their knees. The motions that come next are unexpected. Their performance threatens to scandalize me.
I scoot to the edge of my chair. “What’re they—?”
“This part isn’t important,” Ridge grumbles.
“Really? Everyone seems very interested.” In fact, the women in attendance appear glued to the act of several players stretching.
“It’s mostly for views. The routine is staged these days.” His tone is sour.
“Does that bother you?” Maybe it takes away from the authenticity of the sport.
“Other men trying to steal your attention by lewdly thrusting their hips? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I chance a peek at one in the center. His movements are especially vigorous. It almost seems like he’s imitating an intimate act. And once that occurs to me, I can’t unsee it. “Oh, my.”
“Do you like what he’s doing?” Ridge’s harsh exhale wafts across my neck.
I squirm in my padded chair as flames travel through me at an alarming rate. My brain misfires while I replace the player on the ice with the man beside me, and I’m splayed underneath him. The visual is vivid and graphic and I want more. I can almost smell carnal lust circulating in the air.
“Sweetness?”
“Um…” I stutter. It’s difficult to look him in the eye after imagining that.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I can’t.” The reply is a breathy rasp.
He straightens slightly. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No,” I blurt and blindly grab for him. “Our nearness is what calms me.”
His eyes flash in a passing streak of light. “Are you picturing something that involves him?”
My hair becomes a whip as I give a sharp denial. “It’s you I see.”
His fingers slide between mine and I trap a moan. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
I sag in relief that he doesn’t press for more detail. “Okay.”
“You’re getting ready for me.”
“Ready,” I mumble.
“Yes, you’re almost there. Soon, sweetness.”
A deafening buzzer shatters our moment. The puck drops on the ice and a flurry of movement immediately follows. I’m riveted by the intensity. The players move fast enough to become a blur before my eyes. My gaze sweeps from left to right in a pitiful attempt not to miss a moment.
Ridge must notice my struggle. “I usually try to focus on who has the puck. That’s where it counts.”
“Good tip.” And it works. My brain doesn’t hurt as I soak in each frenzied play.
The crowd goes wild when the Trojans score. We leap to our feet and join in the celebration. My usual meek demeanor melts away while I cheer until my throat burns. Ridge glances over at me. A wide smile brightens his expression. I return the gesture, squeezing our clasped palms. We collapse into our seats without losing eye contact.
Once the noise level lowers to normal, he bends toward me. “Are you having fun?”
“Um, duh. I’m on a date with my boyfriend.” I giggle at the sassy response. Just then, the action on the ice turns brutal. Two players collide hard enough to crack their helmets together. The resulting echo makes me wince. If that isn’t painful enough, the two begin punching each other. “It’s more violent than I thought, though.”
“You can hear the Grizzlies squeal for mercy from up here.” He leans forward as if he’s about to launch over the railing to enter the fight.
I think back to his shift in mood when talking about playing for the team earlier. “Do you miss it?”
He’s already nodding. “Every damn day. The adrenaline rush is addictive.”
My confidence wavers, but I scrounge up the courage to whisper, “What happened?”
Ridge blows out a heavy exhale. “It was like any other game. I just took a wicked hit and immediately felt the damage. There was a blast of fire in my shoulder. Completely blew the whole joint. I couldn’t move it. That type of injury ends a career. The scar left behind is gnarly.”
I cringe. “That sounds awful.”
“Don’t pity me too much, sweetness. I had almost seven complete seasons with the Trojans. That’s more than most get. I’m set to live in luxury thanks to my generous contracts.”
Money is a sticky subject to broach. It’s also none of my business. Instead, I decide to get an answer for a question I’ve been meaning to ask. “How old are you?”
“Wise beyond my years,” he jokes.
“Seems that way,” I quip.
“Just turned thirty-one last month.”
My heart lurches. “What? No way. I didn’t get you a gift.”
“You did.”
“I think I’d remember.”
“You’re the only thing I wanted.” His stare is heavy with meaning. “And here you sit.”
Before I can respond, there’s a break in the game. A cheesy tune blasts from the speakers and an eruption of excitement screeches from the audience. There’s a live feed of the packed arena, panning quickly across the seats. Then a cutout heart flashes on the oversized screen. Inside the shape is a title of what I assume is a scheduled segment for entertainment purposes.
“The Kiss Catcher?”
“It’s exactly as it sounds,” he explains.
On cue, the camera lands on a couple in the audience. They immediately embrace in a passionate smooch. The second pair engage in similar affection. Then, to my utter shock, Ridge and I are on display. I don’t move other than my eyes, which bulge to comical proportions.
Once again, my dependable boyfriend takes charge of the situation. He lifts our joined fingers and proceeds to pepper my knuckles with chaste pecks. Fireworks boom in my stomach as he repeats the action on my other hand. But the crowd isn’t satisfied.
“Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her,” is shouted as a unified chant.
The volume is thunderous, but I drown them out when Ridge dips toward me. He flips his hat backward in a fluid motion. His spicy pine aroma invades my senses and I suck in a deep breath. My pulse gallops into a sprint. I get dizzy as his warm exhale ghosts across the shell of my ear.
“Do you trust me?”
My nod is automatic. “More than anyone else.”
“I refuse to have our first real kiss be broadcasted for public approval, sweetness. But we’ve gotta give ‘em something.” Then he shifts until his lips press to my overheated cheek.
Our captivated audience roars. A quake vibrates the floor beneath my shoes. The announcer attempts to speak over the chaos. I ignore everything except the soft pressure from Ridge’s kiss.
He smiles against my skin. “I was wrong earlier. This was the best idea.”
My face turns into his. I’m certain he can feel the corners of my mouth curve upward into his stubbled jaw. This is a moment I’ll cherish forever. “I couldn’t agree more, boyfriend.”