13. Declan
DECLAN
“What plan for Friday?” I ask.
“Shhh,” she tells me, her eyes on Beckett. “He’s explaining.”
I hear the words ‘joust’ and ‘lance’ and ‘charge’.
I understand what’s going on now, but I still ask Astrid. “Why does it matter if I can skate?”
She covers her lips with her finger.
I prop my elbow on the table and lean in toward her. It’s a great excuse to get closer to my wife. After all, that will look good to all of the people looking on. Plus, she smells incredible. And I very much like the way her breathing hitches.
“Astrid.”
She finally looks at me. Our faces are only a couple of inches apart. She shrugs. “We need a few extra players. Some of them have to be out of town.”
“No.”
“They all have other jobs. Those come first. We can’t play short.”
“You definitely can. This isn’t real hockey anyway.”
She bats her eyes at me.
She fucking actually bats her eyes at me.
And God help me, it works.
But then she adds, “If Miles was here, he would do it.”
I make a soft growling noise without even meaning to.
And I’m close enough to her to see the way her pupils dilate slightly.
Noted.
“Miles knows how to skate?” I ask.
“He does. He plays for a beer league in Portland.”
I did not know that. How did I not know that?
“Actually, he plans to join the team when he gets here,” she adds.
“Bullshit,” I say. “That would’ve made it on the website.”
“He’s been saving it to make a big announcement after he’s here permanently.” She smiles. “I suppose that’s really fortunate considering he might need it to pull ahead of you in the polls by the time he gets here.”
I study her, my gaze bouncing back-and-forth between her bright blue eyes. I realize what she has known since she first came up with this idea—I’m definitely going to do this.
But what she doesn’t know is that I’m a hell of a skater, and I am going to give this my all.
I turn to the table. “I’ll do it if Astrid agrees to do our famous karaoke number with me.” I look at Astrid and then back to the table. “People will love it.”
I’m gratified to hear the choking sound from the woman sitting next to me.
“You have a famous karaoke number?” Beckett asks.
I drop my hand to Astrid’s thigh under the table and squeeze. It’s a warning squeeze. A warning not to out us.
Because…we do not have a famous karaoke number.
Yet.
We have never ever done karaoke together. We’ve never so much as sung happy birthday to a mutual acquaintance together.
But Friday night is going to make us famous.
I nod. “We do. I might be exaggerating with the word ‘famous’.” I shoot them all a charming grin—hey, I can be charming if I need to be. I just don’t need to be very often—and say, “It will be a huge crowd pleaser to get Astrid out there too, don’t you think?”
Beckett crows. “Oh, fuck yeah.”
“What’s the song?” Alex asks.
Alex definitely knows that we do not have a famous karaoke number.
“It’s a surprise,” I tell them. “But here’s how I see it. When I score to win the game, I skate to center ice, I start the song, and then Astrid comes out and joins me for the killer number.”
The rest of the table grins, and a few even applaud.
Their clapping covers Astrid saying, “But I don’t—”
I squeeze her thigh.
“Fuck, Nora’s going to love that,” Alex says enthusiastically.
“That’s the perfect way to announce yourself to the town,” Beckett agrees. “And getting Astrid out here? Oh, yes.” He grins at Astrid.
“Has Astrid never done any numbers?” I ask.
Now I’m the one feigning innocence. I know the answer. I’ve watched every game online. And if she had been a part of any performance at all, I would have rewound that over and over.
She’s been on the ice making announcements a few times and awarding a few prizes here and there, but she’s never sung or danced.
Until now.
“No, she hasn’t,” Alex says, grinning at his sister. “Everyone will love this.”
I finally glance at her. She looks like she just sucked on a lemon.
“Too bad we can’t get Miles here by Friday,” I say, lifting my glass for a sip, feeling very pleased with myself. “How much more fun would it be for us to play on opposite teams for this? Team Declan versus Team Miles?”
Her mouth is open, as if she’s trying to say something—a protest, I have no doubt—but nothing is coming out.
“Oh, damn,” Alex says. He pulls his phone out. “I’m texting him right now.”
“Seriously?” Beckett asks. “You think he could come?”
“Why not?” Alex asks. “He can use Declan’s plane. And Astrid is here and is his boss. What’s keeping him in Portland?”
Me.
I’m keeping Miles in Portland.
I know I can’t keep him there indefinitely. He’ll choose Astrid over me every time. But I want him to stay in Portland while I figure this all out, win over the town, and convince my wife that she’s going to stay my wife.
But… bringing him here for this is exactly the kind of spectacle that this town would love and, by extension, would make Astrid happy.
And…damn…I think it would make me happy too. I feel myself grinning behind my glass. It sounds ridiculous and, yeah, fun.
While I expected to have to fight Astrid’s resistance and work to win her over, I didn’t expect shenanigans. I didn’t expect ducks, dozens of people filing through her front door, her signing me up for bonkers hockey, and…
I underestimated her.
That was a big mistake.
I’m wondering if perhaps her grandfather underestimated her as well.
Does Astrid really need me to take care of her?
No. I don’t think so.
But does she need this town? Does she need all of this…silliness? Does she need these people who love to shine a spotlight on her and would love to do more of it? Who have made her a part of their drama, in a good way, at least in their estimation?
I’m starting to think so.
She’s been adored, admired, and had fans and followers all along. But none have been up close. None have been in her business. None have been on her front porch.
And that’s a good thing, of course. She doesn’t need stalkers. She doesn’t need fans showing up on her front lawn.
But these people… they’re not on her front porch because she’s rich or semi-famous or rubbing elbows with royalty and celebrities.
They want to bring her tomatoes, help her raise ducks, and take care of her grumpy cat.
If she was having a bad day, I have no doubt Nora, Sutton, and Andi would show up with milkshakes.
And they want to see her kissed at center ice. Not just for the fun drama of it, though yes, that too, but because they love her and they want her to be romanced and loved, and they want to see it. Hell, they want to be a part of making it happen.
So, yeah, I can do this.
She might not need me to take care of her, but do I want to be in her orbit?
Be an up-close, in-person witness to her life and light?
Experience what it’s like to have her lobbing challenges and sass at me on a regular basis?
Be one of those people on her front porch and letting himself in through her front door?
Fuck, yes.
I finally nod. “Text him. If we’re going to make this a spectacle, it’s gotta be a spectacle.”
“You know there will be cameras,” Lawson says. “A live stream and immediate uploads to social media.”
I’m counting on it. Not only am I calling Astrid’s bluff, but my grandfather is going to love this.
I came to Rebel determined to change the course of my relationship with my family and my marriage. Doing a karaoke number at center ice dressed as a knight? Could be worse.
I finally glance at Astrid. She is not swooning. She doesn’t look impressed. Or like she’s ready to tear her clothes off. Or even shocked.
She looks frustrated. Like I’m fucking up all of her plans. She’s also shaking her head as she chews on ice from her soda.
She looks like she’s plotting.
I don’t even try to hide my smile.
Yes, it could definitely be worse.
The guys spend the next few minutes planning things out in between bites of food and refills of their drinks.
I reach for the shrimp on Astrid’s plate and grab one before she does. She frowns as I pop it into my mouth and chew, judging its spiciness.
It’s a smoky, sweet barbecue sauce that's delicious.
“Good to go,” I tell her, with a wink.
With brows arched, she lifts one to her mouth.
“Sorry, did you want me to sweep you up and carry you out of here again tonight?” I ask. “Because that can be arranged without setting your mouth on fire.”
She coughs slightly and then swallows, reaching for her soda. But I know it’s not about the shrimp. I think deep down she liked my response to her distress last night.
Or maybe not so deep down.
I return to my jambalaya with a grin.
Conversation around the table eventually shifts to something more casual. Seemingly.
“So you landed an amazing woman, give me some advice,” Beckett says to me.
I have to swallow a bite of jambalaya before I answer, which gives me a second to come up with something other than ‘have her grandfather make her marry you’. “You’re trying to land an amazing woman?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Maybe not reminding her you’re a lot younger, calling yourself a kid, and asking her to adopt you would help,” Hudson tells him.
Beckett sighs. “I was just trying to lighten the moment.”
“Andi?” I guess.
Beckett nods. “And before you tell me she’s too good for me, I totally know.”
I look at Astrid. “Yeah, I know a little bit about that.”
She stops short of rolling her eyes, but I see it and nearly laugh. She can think this is a show I’m putting on, but she’ll learn in time that it’s all real. She’s stubborn. But I’m more so.
“How did he get you?” Beckett asks Astrid. “I mean, I know he’s rich, and he’s clearly a catch, but he doesn’t seem like the type to flirt. How did he first ask you out? What kind of dates did he take you on?”
Astrid snorts. I turn toward her, interested in how she’s going to answer this.