Chapter 6 #3
Smaller than the private fitting suite, but spacious all the same.
I stripped off my jacket and sweater, thought about Stellan waiting just outside, acting like I was just another customer.
Straightening clothes, maybe. All easy smiles and professional charm designed for public consumption—a subtle, restrained version of him, just like the cologne I’d noticed when he’d brushed close a minute ago.
It made me want to pin him to a wall so I’d get the private truth.
Instead, I pulled the emerald knit on.
And… yes. It worked for me. Close enough through the shoulders to have shape, room through the body without sagging. The color brightened me, hiding the tired shadows under my eyes, as if I’d slept more than five restless hours in a hotel bed made for a small army.
I straightened my back. The fabric moved with me, smooth and beautiful.
Okay. Yeah.
I pushed the curtain aside and stepped out. “You were right,” I said. “Again.”
Stellan looked up, his attention immediate and open, briefly unguarded before he tamped it down. “Yeah, I was.” He came closer, not touching, just circling slightly to get the full picture. “The fit’s right. It shows you off a little, but not in a way that looks like you’re trying.”
My mouth curved up without permission. “You sound very pleased with yourself.”
“That’s because I am.” He glanced over his shoulder at the empty line of fitting rooms, then lowered his voice, eyes bright with humor. “It takes a certain genius to frame a masterpiece.”
I stifled a laugh. “Do you hear yourself?”
Both dimples popped—real, not just a sales trick. “Learn to take a compliment.”
I inhaled, my amusement fading into something gentler. The air around us felt warm, a hush in this part of the shop, the murmur of voices sounding far off. I looked past him, toward the corridor and the curve of the floor beyond. “Are there cameras in this area?”
His focus snapped like a whip. “No,” he said. “Not here.”
“Good.” I grabbed his shoulders and kissed him.
Quick and hard, too much of the week in it. Too many flights, too many hours of holding myself in check, of pretending I didn’t want this—his mouth parting under mine, his harsh intake of breath before he kissed me back like he’d been waiting, too. One of his hands dug hard into my waist.
Just a few seconds that knocked something wide open. Then I peeled myself away because I had to.
“Right,” Stellan whispered, a little stunned, pupils blown wide and obvious. I doubted I looked much better.
“Sorry about that,” I said, and he snorted.
“No, you’re not.”
I should be. But yeah, no. I grinned. “True.”
He glanced toward the rest of the shop, then back at me. “Okay, so. When?”
“I can’t do tonight.” My voice came out a little too rough. “Got a thing with Reid, and he’d never let me live it down. Then game tomorrow. So… Tuesday?”
“Yeah, yes. Tuesday’s good. I’ve got the day off.” Almost eager, and it lit something in my chest.
“Afternoon?”
He nodded. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
That could have been it. Except…
“You want to come to the game?” I asked before I could filter myself, and—whoa, okay. Hadn’t meant to say that. But also, maybe I had.
Open surprise washed across his features. “I mean—uh. You sure?”
No.
It would drag Stellan from the fringes of my life right into the middle of it.
That was a problem. But I got two free tickets per game, and I’d given them to friends before, to acquaintances, sometimes to fans who’d stopped me on the street and seemed nice enough.
So what if I offered them to Stellan, let him bring a friend if he wanted?
So what if he might be seated next to other players’ friends and family? So fucking what?
Truth was, watching Stellan in here, all charm and earned confidence, made something low and stupid kick in. It made me want to show him what I looked like in my own element. Made me want to impress him, just a little. Stupid. Possibly dangerous. Reid would hate it.
Still.
“Yeah.” I gave him an easy nod. “It’s no big deal. Player allotment, so I’ve got two tickets no one else is using. You could bring a friend, if you want to.”
Totally casual. Either you or some random guy off the street. So… makes sense, right?
Stellan looked at me, warm light playing over his face. Then his mouth tugged up into something quietly pleased. “Yeah,” he said, slightly too soft. “That’d be cool.”
Cool.
I nodded like this was normal. Like I hadn’t just blown a hole through my own plan to keep him separate from the rest of my life, neatly tucked away. “If you text me your email, I can send them over.”
“Okay. Great.” He shook his head and smiled, still looking a little off-kilter from the kiss. It suited him—suited him in a way that made something in me go hot and tight.
I made myself take a step back. “I should probably try the rest on.”
“Probably,” he agreed, and yeah, right. Only my pulse was still a little too loud, the taste of him on my tongue. But—no. Not here. Once had been a risk, twice would be foolish.
So. Tuesday at my place.
Tomorrow, Stellan in the crowd.
Terrible idea.
Yes.