14
REECE
I bump shoulders with Aurora. “What’s wrong, princess?”
She’s fidgeting in her seat more than usual, crossing and uncrossing her long legs. The team is winning and Jackson is killing it, but as the clock counts down, she grows increasingly anxious.
Perhaps I’m making her uncomfortable. I’ve been careful not to violate any boundaries, though the mere sight of her triggers vivid memories of a dream I can’t erase.
Even days later, I swear I could smell her in my bed, feel the phantom weight of her body on mine, hear her soft moans. It drove me fucking mad.
“I didn’t know we’d be sitting up here with the other team.” She lays her hand on her stomach, something she does when nauseated or anxious. “I had the twins find me one of Ethan’s old jerseys. I was planning to surprise him.”
Ethan arranged these seats. We’re in a suite with a handful of Boston fans, sitting outside the box, overlooking the ice. I’ve noticed a few people eyeing us, but no one has approached. Besides, she hasn’t removed her jacket; only the bottom half of the oversized jersey is visible.
“You’re nervous about wearing his New York jersey to a Boston game?”
She has Jackson’s bedazzled name and number on the back of her jacket—it’s clear who she belongs to. I’m not familiar with hockey etiquette, but I’d think being the wife of the visiting team’s captain would be more troubling than sporting the coach’s old jersey.
“Well, I couldn’t wear it to the New York game. I would’ve been cheering for the other team, and it was Jax’s first game back. I thought maybe it’d cheer Ethan up tonight.” She hangs her head. “It was dumb.”
I still don’t understand. “What are you worried about exactly?”
“Boston is his former team, owned by his ex’s family.
If someone sees what I’m wearing, he’ll be angry.
I won’t see him for days—if he even allows me to travel with him again.
” She wraps herself tighter in the jacket.
“He doesn’t like attracting attention. It was a stupid idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Is that why Ethan has been staying away from her? Because she attracts too much attention? He’s dating a gorgeous, twenty-two-year-old Sports Illustrated model who’s also his star player’s supposed wife. He’s bound to be in the spotlight.
“No, it’s not stupid. Why would supporting him be stupid? It’ll be okay. You’re with me, and we’re leaving once the game is finished.”
“Oh,” she mumbles with a hint of disappointment.
The pieces are falling into place. Ethan needs her here to appease his lead scorer, since Jax is a mess without her, when he’d rather she be safe at the hotel. No media. No distractions. He wants complete control.
I take her hand, and our fingers intertwine in their familiar dance.
A jolt of adrenaline floods my veins, my skin prickling, hypersensitive to her touch.
I breathe deeply, trying to calm my racing heart, but instead, I inhale her intoxicating scent.
God, she smells amazing, and I nearly groan as arousal slams into me.
Focus, idiot.
What were we talking about? I clear my dry throat and stretch my legs to adjust my pants discreetly.
“How’s work?” we both ask, then grin.
“No work—for me. Ethan doesn’t want me working, but technically ,” her golden-brown eyes light up, “I’m still representing the brand, and they’re sending me the spring line. Don’t tell him.”
So Ethan might’ve been telling the truth, and she actually traded work for me to be here. I refuse to believe it. “Your secret is safe with me, but that means you have to attract the paparazzi, have your picture plastered everywhere. He might not approve.”
“True. True.” She nods. “It just feels strange not working, not having an income, like I’m forgetting something important.”
I know that feeling all too well. Not the lack of work, but the fear of missing some critical detail. “No worries, angel. You have a solid team. We won’t let anything happen.”
“Thanks.” She smiles softly and lays her head on my shoulder. “Are you sure you wanna be my glorified babysitter?” She peers up at me. “ And my bodyguard? And my nutritionist? And my driver? And my therapist?”
She acts as if being with her is a burden, but it’s an honor. I have the privilege of serving her, protecting her—my dream girl. That blows my mind.
“Who else is gonna make you nap when you’re cranky?”
Our eyes remain locked. I desperately want to kiss her, but knowing my luck, it’d be broadcast on the Jumbotron, and her husband will beat me to death with a hockey stick while his bestie stomps my skull in.
The roar of the crowd becomes deafening, and her attention snaps to the game. Jax is on a breakaway, and she gets to her feet. He scores, and she throws her arms in the air, cheering. After bumping heads with Killian at center ice, he searches for her, points his stick, and she blows him a kiss.
She takes her seat, face flushed, and I realize something.
“Jax does that to you.” I gesture toward the goalie. “That forehead tap.”
She tilts her head, brows furrowing, then she gasps. “Holy crap, he does!” Her cheeks flush deeper, her expression adoring. “Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet,” she coos.
I roll my eyes, and she playfully knocks her shoulder into mine, giggling. I don’t fault her for who she loves, and I don’t fault either of them for loving her. After everything we’ve been through, we all deserve to love whoever the fuck we want.
“There’s food. Do you want anything?” I ask at intermission.
She twists in her seat, glancing behind her at the buffet in the center of the suite. “No thanks, but you can go ahead.”
“Will you at least have a snack? They have cheese and sparkling water.” I wag my brows suggestively.
She smiles at my antics. “I might eat some cheese.”
“I know you’ll eat cheese. Come on.”
The moment she sees a couple standing at the food counter, she abandons me to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. She’s not fond of social situations and will avoid people if she can, but knowing she’ll share with me, I load up my plate with her favorites.
She’s gained a bit of a sweet tooth while pregnant, and when she walks by to return to our seats, I ask, “Should I grab these chocolate-covered strawberries?”
That gets her attention. She leans in, and her eyes widen with a serious case of food lust. “Yes,” she mouths with ferocity.
I can’t help but chuckle. God, I wish she’d look at me like she does chocolate.
The man across the buffet faces us. “You must be my special guest,” he says to Aurora, wearing a well-practiced grin.
He appears to be in his late thirties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp gray suit. Next to him is a blonde woman, about the same age. Until now, their backs had been to us as they chatted and sipped wine. I caught him sneaking glimpses at Aurora, but that’s expected.
“Aurora Embers.” She gives him a charming smile. “Nothing special, I promise.”
The woman’s head snaps around, her mouth agape, eyes burning with unmasked hostility, and Aurora practically burrows herself into my side.
Gray Suit extends his hand, seeing only Aurora. “Trent, agent and friend of Coach Blackwood, and I highly doubt that.”
Coach Blackwood. Not Ethan, meaning he failed to tell Trent who Aurora is to him. You know, the mother of his child and girlfriend.
Aurora sets down the bottle of water and gracefully takes his hand. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for allowing us to use your suite.”
“Not a problem. Coach said you’d be as quiet as a mouse, but he didn’t mention how stunning you are.”
She presses her lips together and shakes her head in amusement.
“I bet you get that a lot, though.” He winks.
The scoff that escapes me is louder than intended and full of annoyance. “She isn’t the one, not unless you wanna eat a hockey puck traveling at a hundred miles an hour.”
He forces a laugh. “Oh, I know all about her husband.” He smirks at Aurora. “And you.”
Somehow, I doubt that, not with the way he’s flirting.
The blonde scrutinizes Aurora’s outfit, and her lip curls. “Who are you?” Her Boston accent is as thick as molasses.
Aurora squares her shoulders, no longer charismatic or amused. “I’m a model and Jackson O’Reilly’s wife.”
Oblivious, Trent snorts. “She’s being modest. She was on the cover of Sports Illustrated and featured in Maxim’s Hot 100 this year.”
I’m starting to hate this guy.
The woman gives Aurora another once-over, paying close attention to her rounded stomach, and sets down her wine glass.
“You’re married?” Her brows rise. “This is a joke, right?” Her shrill words hang in the air, the room going silent.
“Did he really think putting you in his agent’s suite would hide you from me?
” She enunciates each word with clipped precision, her voice seething with barely contained fury.
“Oh, I’ve been waiting for the day he tried to show off his whore. ”
My muscles tense, a coiled spring ready to snap. “Excuse me? I don’t care who you are—don’t threaten her, not even slightly.”
Trent puts an arm between us. “Whoa, hold up.”
Blondie’s furious glare shifts to him. “Did my ex put her in here?”
“Yeah? She’s a guest of mine. Is there a problem?”
Aurora embraces me, her eyes wide with panic, her hands gripping my shirt beneath my leather jacket.“?Nos vamos?” she whispers. “Please?”
She wants to leave. I have no idea how she suspected I understood Spanish. I know what I need to communicate effectively on the job, but I’m not fluent by any means.
Behind her, Ethan’s ex continues to rant. “Only that she’s carrying my ex’s lovechild .” Her voice rises for all to hear. “Speaking of…how far along are you exactly? Far enough to force him into a divorce? Is it even his?”
Aurora’s eyes well up, and she swallows hard. Forgetting all about the food and stellar conversation, I guide her out the door.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Ethan’s ex follow us. I dip my head, my hand on the small of Aurora’s back. “Don’t answer. Don’t engage.”
We get to the elevator, and the blonde opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“I’m not only her security detail, I’m also a federal agent. Keep talking, and I’ll have you charged with harassment. You touch her, I’ll personally escort you out of this building in handcuffs, and it won’t be pretty.”
She raises her hands in mock surrender. “No harassment.” An ugly grin plays on her lips. “I thought Aurora might want to exchange addresses for Christmas cards. We’re family, aren’t we? Considering her child and I will share a last name.”
I should keep my mouth shut, but I can’t. “Wow. I see why he divorced you.”
“Because he got someone pregnant, obviously.”
She has reason to be bitter. Ethan was still married when he met Aurora. I don’t need the entire story, but I wish the fucker would’ve given me a heads-up.
Right or wrong, I don’t protect Aurora because it’s my job. I protect her because it kills me not to, and I have the mental scars to prove it.
“No, because you’re repulsive. You don’t even compare. Now take your shit to Ethan.”
The elevator slides open, and thankfully, it’s empty—the game must be in play. We step inside, and I position myself in front of Aurora, shielding her. She wraps her arms around me, her head resting on my back—another realization: her love language is physical touch, and she needs my comfort.
The doors shut. I turn to her and lift her chin, but her gaze remains downcast, fixed on the floor.
She won’t look at me, and I can tell by the faint quiver in her lips she’s struggling to suppress her tears.
I’m struck with the powerful urge to hold her, let her fall apart in my arms, but I know she doesn’t want that right now. She’s trying to be strong.
It’s probably crossing a line, but I kiss her forehead. “Just breathe. We’ll be out of here soon.”
Her breath shudders, a ragged sigh fighting its way free. “I didn’t even get a chocolate-covered strawberry.” She attempts to joke through her tears, but in no time, her lip pouts, and her body shakes with sobs. Covering her face with her hands, she cries, “I hate her so much.”
I take hold of her wrists and lower my head until her gaze meets mine.
“She doesn’t matter. These arrogant assholes do not matter.
No one matters but you and the baby.” I wipe away her tears and smeared makeup with my thumbs.
“I’ll get you some chocolate-covered strawberries.
Now, the doors will open any minute. Chin up, princess, and straighten your crown. ”