Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
tyler
He’s across the room in an instant, falling to his knees beside her.
He cradles her cheeks in his hands and dips his thumbs beneath her glasses to swipe at the wetness.
Black mascara smears across her creamy skin.
He hates this. It’s not the first time he’s dried her tears, but it is the first time he’s known with a hundred percent certainty that he’s the cause of them, and it breaks his fucking heart.
The producers have been playing him like a goddamn fiddle. They still are. He can feel them hovering behind him, capturing the scene they shoehorned him into making on film.
Every day he demanded to see her, and every day they responded with empty promises as they paraded some other woman in front of him.
Six times he’s shown up to the mini-dates, expecting her to be waiting, and six times they’ve denied him.
They excluded her from the group date, they canceled the stupid cocktail party where he could’ve pulled her for a conversation, and he knows they were the reason she showed up to the rink forty-five minutes after all the other girls.
For the past six days, he and Winnie have been separated by nothing more than a hundred yards of grass, but the guesthouse might as well be Alcatraz.
They tell him where to go and when. He has no control, no say, no input. And it’s past time to mount an escape.
He’s done.
Tyler captures her gaze. “I’m getting you out of here.”
It’s the exact wrong thing to say.
Pain lances through her eyes before her gaze drops to her suitcase.
“I know, Ty. I know. That’s why I was packing. It’s time for me to go home. I get why you didn’t, but you should have just been honest with me the first day. It would have hurt less. I was prepared for the rejection. I—”
“No, Win.” He grips the back of her head and tugs on her hair to angle her face up, forcing her to look at him. “I meant you and me—we—are both leaving. Together. We’re having a one-on-one date.”
“A one-on-one date?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s the puzzle ceremony.”
“I don’t give a shit.”
“I don’t understand.”
Tyler drops his forehead to hers with a groan, wishing she could just for one second peek inside his brain and understand everything he’s been feeling for the past few days, the past few years, the past decade.
But she can’t. So he finally has to find the words to tell her, right here, right now, before he loses her forever.
“I love you,” he blurts, the words so trite, so inadequate, he’s frustrated with himself.
“I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been waiting to say that to you, but now that I have, it sounds so lame.
I wish I was the type of guy who could write a sonnet for you, who could explain this to you in the way you deserve, with beautiful words that would convey every ounce of how I feel.
But I’m not. And I can’t, so I won’t even try.
I’ll just say it again, because it feels so fucking good to finally say it out loud.
I love you. I am so in love with you, Winnie.
I’ve thought it a thousand times, and I thought about telling you a thousand more.
And I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to say.
I have so much to explain, but I don’t want to do it here, with everyone watching.
Which is why I want to leave, on a one-on-one date, if you’ll agree to come with me. ”
Winnie searches his eyes, hesitant, as though she misheard. “You love me?”
“So much,” he whispers, running his thumb along the edge of her jaw as he tightens his grip on the back of her head, trying to convey without words. “You have no idea how much.”
“I…” She shakes her head, for once in her life at a complete loss for words. “But I’m in sweatpants.”
The edges of his lips quirk. “I love you in sweatpants. Some of my dirtiest dreams involve you wearing sweatpants. Of course, I’m usually taking you out of them, but—”
“Ty!” She gasps. A blush floods her cheeks.
God, he wants to press his lips to her skin and taste that heat. “What? I have nothing to hide anymore. Please, just come with me.”
He slides his hand down her arm to entwine their fingers, relieved when she squeezes back.
“Where are we going?” she asks, looking down at her outfit—a cropped white T-shirt displaying a tantalizing two inches of stomach above a pair of worn purple NYU joggers. “I look like Barney. These are my guilty pleasure pants. They aren’t supposed to see the light of day.”
“I’m pretty sure that ship has already sailed,” he answers wryly, slipping his gaze to the camera blinking from four feet away.
She wrinkles her nose, then gestures at his formal black suit with an air of desperation. “I can’t go on a date looking like this, when you look like that.”
“So I’ll change into my sweats, too.”
“You’re an athlete.” She scoffs. “That’ll just make you hotter.”
He stands and pulls her roughly against his chest so he can slide his fingers around that sliver of bared midriff he can’t stop thinking about as he murmurs, “If you’d rather I be naked, you only have to ask.”
She snaps her head back to stare up at him with eyes as wide as saucers. All at once Tyler realizes that while being in love with Winnie Rusu has been fifteen years of sheer torment, wooing her is going to be another thing entirely.
“Who are you and what have you done with Tyler Briggs?” she asks with utter disbelief.
He slips his thumbs under the hem of her shirt and traces the contours of her ribs, just to watch the heat in her eyes flare. “I’m the Tyler Briggs who’s done pretending he’s not absolutely head over heels for you.”
“I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for this Tyler Briggs.” She swallows thickly as a shiver trembles through her. “Where are we going on our date?”
“I haven’t gotten that far.”
He looks past the film crew crowding the doorway to the producer standing in the shadows behind, her Cheshire grin practically gleaming through the dark.
Nina’s been waiting for this—waiting for him to break.
It’s obvious now that she wanted this dramatic moment.
That she was torturing him and Winnie both, playing them against each other.
Maybe her initial threat was an empty one.
Maybe it wasn’t. He’ll never know, but he will have to live with the fact that it worked so well for so long.
“Where are we going on our date?” he asks the producer. Not Can we go on a date? Not Will you let us go on a date? But where, because that’s the only choice she’s got left.
Nina dips her chin as if to say, Deal, then pushes off the wall.
The rest of the crew parts like the Red Sea to let her pass.
“We weren’t planning to leave the property tonight, so we don’t have any off-location filming rights established.
We could set up a cabana by the pool. We could empty one of the rooms downstairs.
We could lay something out on the grass. ”
Hard pass.
The last thing Tyler wants to do is have this conversation in front of the other women. Whatever strings production has been pulling have undoubtedly already done enough harm. He doesn’t need to give them more fuel to light a fire under Winnie’s ass.
It needs to be somewhere more private, more intimate.
He doesn’t want to do this in some tacky spot, surrounded by fake rose petals and plastic candles, on some gaudy-ass silk couch while a violin screeches in the background.
He wants it to be real.
To be them.
He wants it to feel like…
“Home,” he announces, knowing it’s right the moment he says it. “We’ll do it at my house. I’ll sign whatever film release you need.”
“You bought a house?” Winnie leans back in surprise. “When?”
He looks down at her with a self-satisfied grin. “When I signed an eight-year, ninety-million-dollar contract.”
She gulps. “Right.”
“Is it furnished?” Nina asks, lips pursed in thought.
He rolls his eyes. “I’m a hockey player, not a heathen.”
“You’re a single man.” She arches a brow as she studies him, still unconvinced. “Did you decorate it?”
“My assistant hired someone.”
She nods now, somewhat placated. “Does it have a view?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Trish?” Nina asks into her headset. “What do you think?”
“I can’t believe you own a house,” Winnie whispers, drawing his attention back to her. She examines him thoughtfully, as if seeing him in a new light. “I don’t even have a lease.”
“I heard about that.” He turns to her fully and resettles his hands on her hips, unable to believe he can actually hold her like this now, possessively pressing her up against him, leaving no room for doubt. “Did you really leave New York?”
“Yup.” She takes a deep, uneven breath. “Quit my job and everything.”
“For the show?” he asks, unable to completely cover the worry laced through his words, harkening back to old fears. He doesn’t want to be the cause of her regrets. It’s why he didn’t stop her back then, and why he can’t help but ask now.
“No,” she assures him quickly, adding a dismissive little shrug. “It was just…time. The city won’t be the same without Sam, and my business really started taking off after this new commission. I was ready for a change. And—”
“That’s enough of that,” Nina cuts in. “This is a TV show. You’re both under contract. And there will be no more talking until cameras are rolling. Agreed? Or we can cancel this impromptu little outing right now.”
Neither of them answers.
Nina raises her brows. “Well?”
“Fine,” he seethes, at the same time Winnie murmurs, “Okay.”
“Now, I need footage of you leading her out of the house. Then we’ll take two separate cars to the location. Tyler, you’ll go in ahead with us to give us a quick tour. And when we’re done setting up, we’ll start from the beginning while you bring Winnie inside. Understood?”
“Understood,” they respond in gruff unison.
The cameraman repositions them back into the same spot as the last usable shot.
One of the assistants feeds them a few different lines to say to explain the new date twist. It’s all so fake and contrived, he wants to scream.
And that’s before the crew parades them through the house, over and over again, filming the exit from every possible angle.
He’s holding Winnie’s hand, but they may as well be miles apart.
Every time he meets her eyes, he feels her impatience, matching his own.
They’ve been waiting years to have this conversation, and every extra wasted second feels like a lifetime.
The anticipation builds to a literal buzz beneath his skin.
He fidgets on the car ride over, knees bouncing as he taps his fingers on the leather seat.
Nina fills the silence. “You still have to film the rest of the season.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“You have to go on dates with the other women.”
“I know.”
“You have to kiss them.”
“Jesus,” he snaps. “Can I just get one fucking night for myself? One fucking night with Winnie without you pestering me about all this other shit that doesn’t matter? One night!”
“One night,” Nina agrees. “But you’re mine come morning.”
Tyler crosses his arms over his chest and stares hard out the window.
They don’t speak again until they reach his house, and even then, it’s the bare minimum required to give a quick tour of his place.
While the cameramen set up, he paces around the foyer.
The minute he gets the okay, he charges back outside to the second black SUV parked in his driveway and practically rips open the door.
Winnie stares up at his house with wide eyes.
It’s not huge but it’s brand new and ultramodern, a stark reminder that he’s come a long way from the boy in the trailer park. She gapes as though it’s the Taj Mahal.
“Oh my god, Ty, this is like a house house.”
He fights back a smile. “As opposed to…?”
“You know what I mean.” She gives him a little shove, somehow managing to roll her eyes while still surveying every inch of his property.
“You have a gate. You have a garage. You have hedges! Did you plant those? Obviously, you didn’t plant them.
What am I even saying? I just mean, wow.
Theoretically, I know you’re successful.
I’ve been to your games. I’ve heard your name over the loudspeaker.
I’ve heard the accompanying screams. But, dang. You’re rich. Like, rich rich.”
“Don’t say that.” He grimaces. “You know how much I hate rich people.”
“But you are.” She laughs. “And it’s amazing! Seriously. It’s…incredible. You’ve really made so much of yourself. I don’t know if this is weird to say, but I’m proud of you. I really am.”
“Okay, Little Miss Private School.”
“My parents are rich.” She tosses him a pointed glance, then takes a deep breath. “I, on the other hand, am a twenty-five-year-old freelancer who needs to go back on their health insurance for the next six months because I can’t afford to pay CObrA. Big difference.”
“You’re running your own company,” he counters.
“I know, I just…” She trails off, biting her lip.
That’s enough of that, he decides, taking matters into his own hands. Her praise is one thing. Her insecurity is another. And if one night is all he has with her, he sure as hell isn’t spending another minute of it out here watching her spiral.
“Come on.” He takes her by the hips, lifts her out of the car, and tosses her over his shoulder.
“Ty!” she shouts indignantly. “I can walk.”
“I know that. But if you were walking, I couldn’t do this.” He takes the opening to run his large hand up the back of her petite thigh and palm her ass. God, she feels fucking amazing. He’s dreamed of doing this for so long, he can’t quite believe it’s real.
“You’re freakishly strong,” she grumbles.
He just grins—because she didn’t tell him to stop, she hasn’t pushed him away, and if anything, she’s angled closer.
He looks at her over his shoulder with a promise. “You’ll thank me for that one day.”