Chapter 21
JORDAN
Spending the day with Libby doing meetings and team stuff was a relief.
Emphasis on was. Sure, we had to act like a couple, but we could be subtle about it since being embarrassingly in love would look unprofessional.
I could tell that Tessie, the director of Libby’s show, wanted more kissing, but Libby didn’t give in when Tessie asked for more “affection.” I tried not to grin at the way Libby told her this was her place of work and she was a professional.
Libby’s assertive side is attractive as all get-out.
Maybe that’s why the skating lesson got intense.
I couldn’t resist her anymore. Thoughts about how I would like to be making out with her in some back closet at the practice facility hung around all day.
I liked, too much, having her fingers laced with mine.
It’s one of the most comforting things I’ve ever felt.
It makes it seem like Libby is actually mine.
That’s why I went down to the ice to skate, to burn off some energy because I can’t keep on like this, hiding my feelings for her and finding release in any little way I can touch her as we fool people.
So I went and held her against me while we skated.
And that worked out well.
If worked out well means that by the time we headed back to Ellie’s house my insides were a mess from everything I’m holding back.
It feels like I’m lying to her. Or worse, like I’m using her. I need to tell Libby the truth about my feelings, ask her on a real date—as absurd as that sounds, considering we’re already married.
But we won’t have alone time until we go to bed tonight. Given how long I’ve been holding this in, a few more hours shouldn’t be that difficult—even if the time we spent skating makes it feel urgent.
I want to drag her off for a walk around the neighborhood after dinner—truly delicious tacos—but Kat and Emmeline insist that Libby play Mario Kart with them after dinner.
She was their fun aunt when they lived in Houston and spent tons of time with her.
They couldn’t care less that she’s married to me. She belongs to them.
So I don’t get to have her to myself until we go to bed.
I’m grateful that the guest suite is large, with a comfortable couch in one corner.
When Libby and I retreat there after her nieces go to bed—our nieces, that’s hard to remember—I stretch myself out on the couch while Libby goes into the bathroom to start her nightly routine.
She leaves the door open as she washes her face and brushes her teeth, meaning that I can watch her.
And she can catch me staring as she rubs cream on her face. She turns to me. “What?” she asks.
I want to tell her how beautiful she is or how I could watch her do anything because I’m falling for her.
Seeing her in action today, being the boss, her professionalism and leadership with her new staff, her natural poise on camera, like they weren’t even there—it was electrifying. I am completely smitten by her.
But my admiration of her is outside of the rules we’ve set, and I don’t need to put her on her guard before I have a serious talk with her about my feelings. “Intrigued by the process,” I excuse.
“You’re intrigued by moisturizing cream?” She glares at me playfully.
Mostly just by you, I think. A couple other flirty comments threaten to come out too, like is that what makes your cheeks so soft?
I can’t help thinking about cupping them in my hands again like I did right after the meeting today, when we were in her office chatting, and the general manager and COO walked by and peeked in.
She suggested I kiss her lightly, which I immediately obliged, but I barely even touched her lips, even though I wanted to press mine to hers and deepen the kiss.
“Of course,” I finally say.
She tilts her head, confusion in her expression. “You okay?” she asks.
“It’s been a long couple days,” I excuse.
It’s the truth. Traveling, all the meetings today and time at the facility, then time with Ellie and her family—it’s a lot.
And we’ve had to be on for every second of today.
In front of the cameras, it was especially stressful for me.
I felt like a newbie all day, which was weird when I was inside a hockey arena.
Acting like I love Libby is easy, but figuring out how to do that while still making sure she’s okay has my brain on overdrive all the time.
“It has.” She turns back to the mirror, picking up another tube from her makeup bag and dabbing a few drops on her cheeks. “Facial oil,” she explains to me.
I laugh. “Good to know.” I pull out my phone to distract me from staring at her while she finishes up, but it’s hard to keep my focus on sending a text to Baylee when Libby starts brushing her long, dark hair.
I will not imagine brushing her hair myself and getting to run my fingers through it.
Jordan
I’m going to tell Libby tonight that I have feelings for her.
Baylee
Is that a good idea? What if she doesn’t feel the same?
Jordan
Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Baylee
You two have to stay married. This could make things really awkward. I’m just trying to make sure you’ve thought this through.
Jordan
Honesty is best. I want to make sure we’re communicating.
If she doesn’t feel the same, I’ll understand.
Baylee
She’d be crazy not to already be head over heels for you.
Jordan
Now you’re just patronizing me.
“Okay, your turn,” Libby says brightly as she steps out of the bathroom. Her hair is braided, and I’m sad I missed that part.
I shove my phone in my pocket. “Can I talk to you about something first?” I ask.
She sits on the edge of the bed, facing me, and pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged. “My brain can’t hold any more hockey strategy tonight, Jord.”
I love it when she calls me Jord. It’s a sign of real friendship between us, and though I want more than that, it’s the most important foundation to our relationship, whatever that ends up being.
“Not about hockey,” I say with a chuckle.
“Okay.” She leans her elbows on her legs and props her face in her hands, giving me her full attention. “What’s up?”
I pull my legs from where I had them sprawled the length of the couch and sit up, facing her too.
I draw in a breath. I’m not even sure how to start this conversation.
Compliments, probably. Mama has always said that hard conversations start best on loving footing.
I can’t count the times she had to correct me on something and would start out with, “I love you, Jordan, so much. You’re always taking such good care of your sister…
” And then she’d gently drop in that interrupting her when I disagreed was dismissive of her feelings.
“I think our partnership is working out really well,” I say. “You’ve made all of this easy, and you’ve given me a dream opportunity. I can’t thank you enough for that.”
She gives me a small, grateful smile. “Thank you. I can say the same for you. The way you’ve respected me and the things I need in this unorthodox relationship has meant more to me than you can know.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, my voice husky.
It feels good to know that she’s felt safe with me.
It’s a promising start to this conversation.
“I have to be honest with you,” I go on, leaning forward.
Her eyes widen at that start, and she sits up, her expression turning the tiniest bit fearful.
“Nothing bad,” I quickly promise. She nods, but she doesn’t relax back into the comfortable position she was in before.
Her hands are clasped in her lap now, and her shoulders are ramrod straight.
“Okay.” She draws the word out uncertainly.
“I have feelings for you,” I blurt. She blinks in surprise.
“I will continue to respect any decision you make about us, but I needed to be up-front about that. You’re amazing and kind and a powerful force I keep standing in awe of.
I want to take you on a real date. I’d like to see if this chemistry I feel between us could be more than an act. ”
“Jordan…” she whispers, her voice sounding unsure.
“I … I don’t know what to say.” Her cheeks are the most delicious-looking pink.
I want to kneel in front of her and take them in my hands, show her, with just the two of us, the heat that simmers between us constantly.
We were dangerously close to something like that happening on the ice earlier.
“I know this totally breaks the no-flirting rule,” I say instead, ticking up a half smile.
“Definitely,” she agrees, giving me a rueful smile of her own.
That’s a good sign, right?
Then tears well up in her eyes. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met,” she says.
I’m so confused. Are the tears a good thing? I move to the bed automatically, sitting next to her. She initiates the touch first, reaching for my hands and grasping them in hers. “Libby?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “But I can’t trust you,” she whispers. “I can’t trust anyone. Not after what happened with Grayson.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if Libby Bennet thoroughly vetted me before marrying me, especially after what she told me about her friend Caleb.
I should have done the same—not a background check or anything but at least gotten myself up to speed with her life.
Researching the White Wolves and figuring out the best strategies to run the team was much more fun for me.
But Libby is looking at me like I should know who Grayson is, and I don’t.
I wish I did. I wish I could track him down and break his nose like I did Mitchell Hurst’s back in high school. It’s clear by Libby’s broken expression that whatever Grayson did shattered her.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like a failure. How can I tell her that I’m falling for her when I don’t know anything about the men in her past? When I didn’t bother to look—and it would have been so easy, given who she is? “I don’t know who Grayson is. Is he an ex?”